Chapter 1 #2
And just like that everything changes.
I feel her eyes on me before I even look her way.
“Shepherd Haynes…” she whispers to herself like she’s heard the name a hundred times but can’t quite place me. Then something clicks. Her eyes widen slightly, and I see the exact moment when she puts it together.
Football.
Portland Rush.
Starting quarterback.
“Oh,” she says flatly. “That Shepherd Haynes.”
Usually, when people recognize me, there’s excitement, maybe some stammering, definitely selfie requests. But her expression hardens, like I’ve confirmed something disappointing. The drunk guy is still staring, his mouth hanging wide open.
His buddy tugs on his sleeve. “Dude, we should go,” he mutters.
“But it’s Shepherd fucking Haynes,” the drunk guy protests. “QB1! Can I get a—”
“You can get out,” the bartender cuts in, her voice like steel. “Like I said before the interruption.”
Well shit.
Was I the interruption?
The guy looks between us, clearly torn between wanting to fanboy and not wanting to piss off a professional athlete. Self-preservation wins out, and he fumbles for his wallet, throwing down some bills.
“Sorry, man,” he mumbles to me. “Big fan.”
I nod but don’t engage further. My attention turns to the bartender, her posture rigid, her expression closed off completely. She takes one look at me and rolls her eyes. “Of course, you’re Shepherd Haynes,” she states the obvious as she shakes her head. “Fucking Christ, and I just—”
“You didn’t say anything wrong,” I tell her gently.
Her cheeks burn red. “I literally called your entire profession useless.”
“And that we wear expensive pants!” Killian adds, chuckling from his spot in the booth. “That was great by the way.”
She bows her head, holding her forehead in her palm. “Fuck.”
I shrug. “Some days, you’re not wrong.”
Killian snorts. “Truth.”
Bishop shakes his head.
Sebastian looks like he wants to crawl under the table.
“Great. Just…great.” She exhales, embarrassed, and flustered, and very, very human. “Also, I didn’t need your help,” she says flatly. “I handle guys like that every night.”
“I know you didn’t,” I say, because somehow, I do know. She looks like she’s been handling herself for a very long time. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want them to hurt you.”
She studies me for a beat too long, and I feel it, the way her eyes rake over my body from head to toe. She’s seeing the jersey, the stats, the highlight reels…
The money.
Like everyone else.
“Well,” she says finally, “I suppose I should thank you for not signing an autograph for the guy sexually harassing me. Low bar, I know, but congratulations on clearing it.”
Bishop coughs to hide a laugh behind me. Kill doesn’t even try to hide his.
“Wow. I don’t know what to say.” I can’t help but smile. “You’re welcome?”
She shakes her head slightly and walks away, disappearing back to the bar. When she returns a few moments later, she’s carrying our beers on a tray. She sets them down without ceremony, one after another.
“On the house,” she says.
“Thanks, but we’ll pay our tab,” I say, because I don’t want her to feel obligated. “You don’t owe us free drinks.”
She studies me again, like she’s trying to read between lines that aren’t there. “I know I don’t, but my boss is a big football fan and he’ll be pissed if he finds out the Shepherd Haynes was in his bar and I didn’t give him a free beer.”
“That’s not just Shepherd Haynes,” the rando guy at the next table explains to her. “You’ve got the whole trifecta sitting at that table.”
“Trifecta?” the bartender asks, narrowing her eyes at my brothers before looking back at me.
Another guy sitting at the bar points at Killian. “Yeah, that there is Killian Haynes, starting pitcher for the Portland Lagers, and his brother, Bishop is the team’s star catcher. See? The Haynes Triplets…we call them the Haynes Trifecta around here.”
“The Haynes Trifecta,” the girl repeats, her brows shooting up like she’s pretending to be impressed. Then her eyes slide to Sebastian. “So, if these guys are the famous trifecta, what does that make you?”
Sebastian gives her a sympathetic smile. “The one who didn’t want to spend ten to twenty years of his life putting his body through head-on collisions every weekend.”
“Fair.” The girl nods and actually smiles albeit only briefly.
I shake my head, playing off the fact that some fan just sold us out right here in the bar. “Look, honestly, we’d rather be regular customers,” I tell her, gesturing to my brothers. “It’s why we come here. So we can be, you know, normal guys in a bar. You don’t owe us anything. Promise.”
She tilts her head slightly. “No such thing as normal when you’re famous, you know.”
Bishop snorts. “He’s just trying to be nice.”
“It’s not nice if it comes with expectations,” she fires back.
Killian whistles low. “Damn, she’s got you there, Shep.”
I shoot him a look that says shut up, but I can’t deny she’s right. The weight of who I am follows me everywhere, changing how people see me, how they act around me. It’s exhausting sometimes, never being the guy nobody notices. It’s even worse when we’re all together. The famous Haynes brothers.
“Fair enough,” I concede. “But there’s no expectation here whatsoever other than a bill to pay when we’re done.”
She nods once, a small victory in her expression. “Fine. Let me know when you want food. I’m assuming you didn’t come here to drink yourselves under the table.”
Killian burst out a laugh. “God, if only.”
I glance at the menu on the wall. “How about loaded nachos. And wings. Whatever’s spiciest.”
She actually smirks at that. “Brave.”
“Or stupid,” I counter with a smile.
For just a second, I catch something in her eyes—amusement, maybe—before she locks it down again. “I’ll put that in.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“That’s right,” she says, walking away from me. “You didn’t.”
She walks herself straight into the kitchen, not looking back at me even once, and I laugh.
Because that’s when I know I’m in over my head and so totally fucked.