Chapter Twenty
Flynn
Life is good right now.
The team made it to the conference finals—we’ve been practically undefeated this season.
We’re going up against New York on our home field in just a few days.
Every time I think about it, the adrenaline pumps through me.
This season, it feels like I’ve fallen back in love with football again.
I felt old last year, run down, stuck in my routine.
Something about this season has completely changed the way I’ve been playing, the way I’ve been seeing the game.
I have no doubt that the something is more of a someone with blonde hair and blue eyes.
Katie sits next to me, my arm draped over the back of our booth seat, my fingers fiddling with a piece of her hair. I never expected the harmless flirting on that eight-hour plane ride to Italy last summer would end in me finding the love of my life.
Sure, she has no idea I love her. Nor do I think she quite understands exactly how much her presence affects me, but she’ll get there.
I’m learning very quickly with Katie that things will need to be slow.
There’ll be no ring within six months. No kids within a year.
She’s only just decided that she wants to take on the official role of venue manager for the bar.
I suspect this will be our lives for a while.
If she agrees to stay. Getting her to agree will require me actually asking her, though. Something I have chickened out of doing about once a day since we had dinner at her parents’ a week ago.
Instead, I’ve let her distract me with sex and football.
The two go well together. I fuck her before practice, I have a killer day on the field, then I get to fuck her again when I get home. I have been playing at my best, and Katie is a huge part of that.
“When are you getting your suits done?” Ivy says from across the table. There’s this twinge of panic that sets into her voice every time we speak about the wedding now, and it gets more and more prominent as the date they’ve chosen gets closer.
“Baby, relax,” Scott soothes, his hand snaking over her shoulders. He tugs her closer to his side and smiles down at her. “We will get them after this weekend. We’ll either lose and be done for the season, or we’ll be on a bye before the bowl. It will get done.”
“Promise me you’ll go next week?”
“Promise.” Scott leans down and kisses her. Katie makes a gagging noise, and I snigger into my water glass.
“You two are no better,” Scott growls, glaring at me for laughing along. He asked me for help today with keeping Ivy’s stress levels down, but as Katie has already said, they will get worse. Then, she’ll likely have a big cry to get all the emotions out before she snaps out of it.
“We aren’t nearly as gross as the two of you.
” Katie scoffs. I tug on the piece of hair that’s tangled around my finger, warning her not to go too hard on my friend.
The man is under the most intense amount of pressure with leading the team right now, and while I think the banter between them is hilarious, Scott’s fuse is shorter than normal.
“My wedding dress is ready, but they’re only open during the week. Who only opens a bridal boutique during the week? Do they think people don’t—”
“I’ll pick it up, Ives. Send me the address and just let them know. I’ll collect it.”
“Oh.” Ivy slumps in her seat. “Are you sure?”
“Of course. Anything you need.” Katie reaches across the table and pats her friend’s hand.
“Thanks. You’re the best.”
“Are you getting excited? Or just too stressed to think at the moment?” Katie smiles knowingly.
I tangle my fingers further into her hair, finding the back of her neck and massaging lightly.
I love touching her. The moment I feel her skin, her hair, the moment I kiss her lips, a calm settles over me.
I smirk when she shivers under my touch.
“Too stressed.” Ivy rolls her head against Scott’s shoulder, closing her eyes. “I can’t wait, but also, I kind of just want it to be over.”
“Just what I want to hear from the woman I’m marrying. She can’t wait for it to be over,” Scott murmurs, a smile playing on his lips as he looks down at Ivy.
She slaps his chest. “Oh, hush. You know what I mean.”
His reply is cut off as Justin appears and drops a few plates of food onto the table. Ivy leans forward. “Oooh. New menu?”
“Uh-huh. I sat down with Roscoe the other day, and he’s already started ordering ingredients for it. Try the blue cheese sauce with the wings. It’s probably the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”
I raise an eyebrow at her, turning in my seat. When she looks at me, her eyes shine with mischief, and I squeeze the back of her neck where I still hold her.
“I said what I said,” she says, winking at me. I pull my hand away from her neck and dig my fingers into her waist. Katie squeals and laughs. The sound sends a jolt straight to my heart. She swats my hands away and faces Ivy again. “What will you wear to the game on the weekend?”
“Uh—” Ivy shrugs. “What I normally wear. Jeans and a jersey. Why, what were you thinking?”
I rub my palm over Katie’s thigh as she shrugs. “I thought we could dress up. I know heaps of other girls make a big deal out of it.”
“You want to dress up?”
“Why not?”
“You haven’t wanted to dress up in, well, forever,” Ivy says carefully.
Katie only smiles, dipping one of the wings into the blue cheese sauce. “If you’re up for it, it could be fun?”
“Whatever gets you out of your black hoodie, I’m in.” Ivy laughs.
Justin brings over a few burgers, and we dig into the new menu items that Katie designed with Roscoe.
Everything is classic bar food, but, unsurprisingly, it’s fucking delicious.
Even Scott moans when he takes a bite of the burger.
We’re laughing, going over details for the wedding, and completely distracted from the game coming this weekend, when I look up at the entrance and my blood starts boiling.
I’m out of my seat in a flash, my hand slipping off its permanent position on Katie’s thigh as I head for the man who just walked in.
“Leave,” I snarl.
Grant puts his hands up. “Whoa. I promise I’m not here to make trouble. I just—” His gaze drags behind my shoulder to where Katie is sitting.
“No way.”
“Come on, man. I just want to apologize,” he pleads. I widen my stance, my arms crossing over my chest as I place myself firmly between Katie and this piece of filth. I feel a small, warm hand press gently between my shoulder blades and, when I look down, I see Katie coming to stand at my side.
“I really don’t want to have to order anymore glassware, so if you could leave without smashing up half the bar, I’d appreciate it,” she tells him, her words dripping in venom.
“I’m sorry—”
“It’s a bit late to apologize.”
“Yes, even so, I am sorry.” Grant takes a step forward. My hand shoots out, hitting the middle of his chest and causing him to step back in surprise.
“You had no right to barge back into my life. Not after everything you did to me.” The hand still on my back squeezes the fabric of my shirt into her fist. “You cheated on me so many times, I think I lost count. You told me time and time again I was too much and too loud, so I dampened myself for you, and you still cheated, still hurt me. You fucking slapped me, Grant.”
He flinches, and I have to hold back a smile. Fuck, but I’m proud of her right now.
“I was selfish and wrong to come here the other day.”
“Yes. You were.” Katie nods. “This is my family’s business. This is my workplace. You caused distress to my staff—you berated them and scared them. You threw a tantrum because I didn’t answer your fucking phone calls. How fucking childish are you?”
“I know—”
“You could have just left it. I walked away. I didn’t ruin your life by pressing charges for slapping me, and I didn’t tell all your friends about the cheating.
I didn’t even tell your mom, who kept calling me for weeks, asking what happened to the two of us, by the way.
I let you off, for free.” Katie releases her hold on my T-shirt and steps forward.
She’s only a little shorter than Grant, but right now, you’d think he was about two feet tall.
I step back, standing behind Katie as she gets in his face.
“You should’ve just walked away. Instead, you did something even worse.
You told someone about something that wasn’t yours to tell. ”
Huh? I look at her. She’s seething. Anger is written all over her face. Grant gulps, taking a step back and putting his hands up. “I was drunk. I’m sorry. I really am—”
“It’s too late. You ruined it. You took yet another thing away from me, and this wasn’t yours to take.” Katie launches forward, but I catch her around the waist and pull her back. Her back lands against my chest, and I grunt. “Let me go, Flynn.”
“Uh-uh. No way, Rockstar,” I say against her ear. “You’ll hurt your hand and your license if you get caught fighting.”
Katie fights against my hold, but I keep my arm locked around her waist. “You had no right.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“They’re going to expose the channel. My safe space.”
“I’m sorry, Katie. I am.”
“You—” Katie struggles, then goes still. Silence fills the bar, and I feel myself holding a breath. When she hiccups, a sob falling from her lips, I spin her around in my arms.
“Katie, baby.” I grasp her cheeks, watching her eyelashes soak with tears as they leak from her eyes. “Talk to me.”
“I can’t apologize enough.” I glance up to see Grant retreating, heading for the door. He gives Katie one last, apologetic look. “I’m sorry.”
What the fuck is going on?
She didn’t cry last time he was here. She barely batted an eyelash when he called her a slut or admitted that he hit her in front of her staff. He comes back—sober, thank god—and starts apologizing again, and she’s brought to tears?
Fuck, I’m confused.
I tuck her into my side, walking her to the back corridor.
Ivy watches us as we pass, blocked in her seat by Scott, who, I’m guessing, was caught between getting up to stand behind me and keeping Ivy in her seat so she didn’t get up and stand beside Katie.
I get it. If the roles were reversed, I would’ve kept Katie in her seat, too.
I shake my head at Ivy, silently asking her to stay in her seat.
Another sob rolls through Katie’s body, and I tighten my hold on her.
When we’re out of sight of the main room, I gently release her, leaning her against a wall and crowding her in.
Before she can hide her face in her hands, I cup her cheeks, using my thumbs to wipe her tears.
“Hey, hey,” I say softly, catching what I can as they fall down her cheeks. “You’re okay.”
Katie shakes her head, her eyes jamming shut as if she’s physically trying to stop the tears. “He sent them. Every single one. He had no right.”
“I don’t—” I take a deep breath and restart. The last thing I want is to sound panicked or push her. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me what you mean. Is this about what happened the other night when Grant was here?”
“No,” she says, her voice trembling.
“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong? You don’t have to.” I swipe her cheeks again. “We can just wait here until you’re ready and then go back out and pretend everything is normal.”
Katie huffs, and when she looks up at me, even with a few stray tears still running over her cheeks, she gives me a watery smile. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
“I—” Katie looks down the corridor. There are a few doors, the bathrooms, and the door leading into the back alley. “Can I show you something?”
“Yes. Of course, you can.” She hesitates but only for a moment before she takes my hand and leads me down the corridor. There’s a fancy code lock on the door, and she taps in four digits. It beeps, and the door clicks open.
The room isn’t bright. Katie switches on the light overhead, but it’s dull, likely in need of a change. I expected it to be an office, and maybe she was going to show me her plans for the bar. It’s all she’s been talking about since we came home from her parents’ house last week.
Instead, it’s full of musical instruments and recording equipment. There’s a laptop on the desk, a camera, and a microphone plugged into a sound board. There are wires along the ground, connecting the keyboard and the two different guitars on stands in the corners.
“What the—” I step into the room behind her, taking it all in. “So you do play more than occasionally?”
I smirk, snaking a hand around her waist and pulling her back against my chest. She sniffles but lets me.
“Yes. More than occasionally.” She taps my arm, and I release her. Moving over to the music station, she lifts the lid of the laptop and, once it loads, steps aside to show me the screen.
It’s a YouTube page. Not just any YouTube page, but the one I showed her the night I called from my hotel. The one that’s been posting all my favorite love songs.
“But that’s—” I look over at Katie. She’s wrapped her arms around her middle like she’s protecting herself from whatever my reaction is going to be. “Is this you? This channel?”
She nods.