Chapter 28
Josephine
The vibe is alarmingly tense this morning, as proven by the way both the Lake Chapel Crusaders’ and South Chapel Sharks’ quarterbacks are aggressively shaking their blender bottles on opposite ends of the kitchen island while giving each other haughty looks.
Worrying my bottom lip, I look from Decker to Greedy and back again, willing my heart to settle.
“They’re fine,” Locke quietly assures me, claiming the barstool beside me and sliding a plate of scrambled eggs my way. “Their heads are just in the game already.”
Makes sense. But the conflicting energy rolling off them is so thick it’s hard to breathe in here.
Kendrick slipped out of my bed around six this morning. He must have texted Greedy to coordinate movements, because just as I was coming back from the bathroom, Hunter crept into the room.
My coquettish grin was enough to tell her exactly what happened the night before.
Waggling her brows, she whispered, “Good for you, girl. But you’re out of your pretty little head if you think I’m about to crawl into your love nest and bask in those sex sheets.”
I snorted, only to be caught by surprise by a yawn.
“You need more sleep,” Hunter lectured, circling the bed and rummaging through the bedside table she’d laid claim to.
“Will you be okay if I sit on the balcony and read?” she asked, holding up her Kindle.
With a false confidence she could no doubt see right through, I gave her a nod and a small smile. Unburdening myself of my darkest secrets admittedly lightened the weight on my chest, but flashes of Sunday night still haunt me, and in turn, they spark visions from that night five years ago.
The semiconscious moments are the worst. When I’m almost asleep or just starting to wake, visions cloud my mind, and the intrusive thoughts play out on repeat. I know I need sleep, but I hate the idea of having to awake again.
“I’ll keep the door cracked, so just holler if you need me.”
I crashed for a few hours, only to wake up in a stupor. The fog of confusion was far more preferable to one swimming with panic, but I struggled to rouse myself. Then I had to hustle downstairs to catch the guys before Decker, Locke, and Kendrick had to leave for the game.
“You didn’t have to make me breakfast,” I chide through a yawn. Although the eggs and toast in front of me look delicious. “You have to get your head in the game, too, Emo Boy.”
His dazzling smile hits first, followed by the cock of his pierced eyebrow. “Maybe this is my favorite game, baby. Just because I’m a team player doesn’t mean I can’t make big plays.” He stabs a huge bite of egg on his own plate, then shovels it into his mouth.
Decker has barely acknowledged my existence this morning, which is par for the course for QB1 on game day. He’s laser focused and in the zone, already locked in and mentally preparing to dominate, despite having to share the kitchen with his biggest rival.
Speaking of…
Greedy and Hunter packed their bags last night.
When they leave for the game today, they won’t be coming back to the Crusade Mansion to stay.
My friend has done more for me over the last few days than she could comprehend, and my state of mind is far less fragile than it was even forty-eight hours ago, but anxiety still simmers just below my skin, threatening to spike when I think about falling asleep without her beside me.
“Hey.” Locke brushes his tatted hand up my thigh, teasing precariously close to the hem of my sleep shorts. “You’re not hungry?” He nods at my untouched plate.
It’s not that I’m not hungry. I’m just convincing my body—specifically, my brain and my stomach—that I’m safe, and that there’s no need to fear any sort of spiral today, despite the potential of coming face-to-face with members of the South Chapel football team.
I’ll be with Kylian, and if I know him the way I think I do, he won’t leave my side. But I’m still sapped from all I divulged last night—metaphorically raw and bleeding out of the wound I’ve cauterized ten times over throughout the years.
“I’m just not looking forward to the game,” I confess.
Locke frowns in concern, the glint of his eyebrow piercing catching my attention momentarily as he assesses me.
Shuddering, I wrap my arms around myself. “I want to watch you guys play, of course. But knowing I’ll be in such close proximity to the game, right there for all the Sharks to taunt or jeer…”
I trail off, only to feel every eye in the room on me.
Great.
Another captivated audience for my emotional trauma.
An awkward silence buzzes between us. Thankfully, Greedy clears his throat and takes one step closer before I melt off the barstool into a puddle of humiliation.
He looks from Decker to Kendrick, then tips his chin at me.
“They won’t come anywhere near you, Joze.
The three stooges from that night will be on the bench the entire game.
” He pulls his lower lip between his teeth and squints.
“Actually, one of them might not even be there today. Injury, last I heard.”
The guys involved are all second-string players, so that makes sense.
Still.
His assurance doesn’t calm the roiling in my stomach or the dread pressing against my ribcage.
There’s no guarantee they won’t get called up, or that they won’t make a point to hassle me or get under my skin from the bench. I’m not sure I’d even recognize them. The panic from that night and then the sedation at the hospital have made all the images I can conjure hazy.
“You’re okay,” Kendrick whispers in my ear from behind, startling me so severely I almost slip off the barstool for real this time. Bringing my hand to my heart, I focus on steadying my breathing, only to have him wrap his arms around me and engulf me in his soothing, masculine scent.
I lean back, going soft in his arms, and bask in his comfort as best I can, willing myself not to worry about what I can’t control.
“We took care of it, Mama. Decker, Greedy, and me. While Nicky and Kyl were taking care of you in the Nest a few nights ago, we were out there taking care of you, too.”
The words are whispered in my ear, the sweetest murmur. They’re a reverent oath and a quiet confession.
“What—”
“We took care of it.” Kendrick’s tone is stern, effectively cutting off my questioning.
Gulping past the dread over any of them risking their safety or reputations for me, I crane back and meet his gaze. “Thank you,” I mouth, too vulnerable to trust my voice not to shake if I spoke the words aloud.
K cups my chin, kisses my forehead, and retreats to the other side of the island.
This time when I look around the kitchen, no one is watching me. The guys are conspicuously busying themselves with finishing their food and packing up for the game, and Hunter has her head buried in the fridge.
Sighing, I turn to Locke and find his hazel eyes on me.
“You’ll be okay, Hot Girl.” This time, I’m tempted to believe his assurance. “Plus, you’ll be with Kylian. Just like always.”
I scrunch my nose and try to quell my anxiety. “I know. He has a job to do, though.”
I leave it at that. Every person in this room knows how hyper-focused and fixated Kyl can be during a game.
“Move,” Kylian demands, brushing past Greedy and Hunter and shooing Locke from my orbit so he can have my full attention.
Swiveling the barstool so I’m facing him, he cups my face in his hands and levels me with an intense look I’ve come to crave. For several long seconds, he’s silent, inspecting me from behind his glasses.
“You think I can’t do my job and keep you safe,” he finally says. It’s not a question. It never is with him. It’s an observation, and maybe a bit of an accusation. “You don’t think I notice every move you make when the guys are on the field?”
He smirks, then bows lower, brushing his nose with mine in an adorable way that’s so unlike him.
“Baby, you underestimate just how well I can compartmentalize. Don’t think for one second that I’m not tuned in to you every second you’re on the bench by my side.”
He releases my face, his fingertips tickling down my neck until his thumbs brush my jaw, and tilts my head back, holding me at the exact angle he wants me.
“I see you. Every movement. Every reaction. The way you squeeze your thighs together when offense runs off the field and the boys hustle over to the sidelines.”
My cheeks flame at the callout. There’s no way I do that.
“The way you yelp and jump in your seat when Locke takes a hit, even though it’s his damn job to be ready for impact. The way you can’t stop cracking your knuckles on third and long, despite witnessing K find his route more often than not.”
Kendrick scoffs across the kitchen and lifts his chin. “You mean almost always.”
Kylian side-eyes him without turning his head. “I manage the stats, K. More often than not is nonspecifically generous by design. It’s certainly nowhere close to the realm of almost always.”
Greedy snickers where he’s propped up against the counter near the stove, eliciting grumbles from the rest of the guys. But then Kylian focuses on me again, and all distractions around us fade away.
The thumb that was just brushing my jaw traces my lower lip.
“The way you bite your lip when you hear me call play action, because you know more than one of your guys is going to be involved.”
I suck in a breath. I had no idea I did that.
“The way you glance over at me an average of twenty-six times per quarter, your gorgeous eyes searching my face and reading my body language to check on me. Always concerned, always right there. Even though I can’t give you the attention you deserve.”
My heart stutters in my chest, and my bottom lip quivers.
I do check on him. Remind him to breathe.
Bring him water when I think he needs it.
I wouldn’t put it past him to not notice, but what I didn’t realize was that not only does he notice, but he’s so in tune with me that he’s calculated the average.
“I see you, baby. Always. You’re safe by my side. Nothing and no one is getting to you ever again.”
Kylian pulls back so fast I nearly fall forward. On instinct, I catch myself on his chest, then right myself on the stool. When I’ve found my balance and lift my head, I discover that we have a rapt audience.
My cheeks flush with embarrassment—again. I was so transfixed by Kyl I didn’t register that he was talking loud enough for anyone else to hear.
Whatever. They’re all aware of the tangled relationship dynamics we’re braiding together anyway.
The alarm on Decker’s phone sounds, and the guys throw back the last bites of food and dredges of protein shakes.
As the crowd shuffles out, Greedy swings by and snags my attention.
“Kendrick told you we handled the three guys from last weekend,” he murmurs low, keeping the conversation private.
I nod, my heart panging with appreciation.
“In case you need an extra layer of defense, I left something for you upstairs.”
Confused, I purse my lips and peer over at Hunter. Maybe she can clue me in. She shrugs and shakes her head in response, though. Looks like whatever Greedy’s up to was his idea alone.
“Think of it as my parting gift, Joze.” He squeezes my shoulder.
I’m more than grateful for all he’s done. A parting gift is unnecessary, but he continues before I can insist that I don’t need anything else from him.
“You’ve been through hell. I’ve never seen someone fight that hard to pull themselves back from the brink, but you fucking did. More than once. You’re scrappy, and I admire that. Plus, you’re an amazing friend to Hunter.”
A little uncomfortable with the praise he’s lavishing me with, I open my mouth to discount his claims, but he raises his eyebrows and cuts me off at the pass.
“You don’t need any more help, but if you want an extra layer of armor, it’s there for you. As soon as you put it on, the message will be clear: you’re a Crusaders girl, but you also have my respect and protection.”