Chapter 1
RYKER
Lou Holtz once said, “Life is ten percent what happens to you and ninety percent how you respond to it.” Remember that, boys, and respond like your life depends on it—
because one day, it will.
—Advice from Sebastian Beneventi to his sons, Ryker and Maverick
Two hours ago
Hendrix pushes a beer my way as he slides into the booth. A literal lifetime of friendship means he knows I’m over this scene without having to say a word.
Post-game celebration or not, it’s been a long-ass day.
The pregame adrenaline and the battle we fought during the game itself were more than enough.
And there’s no arguing today was a bigger battle than we expected.
Never the way you want a game to go. Add in the media madness before and after, especially after .
. . Because that’s what happens when you’re favored to win by fourteen and barely bring it home by three.
Thank God for a last-minute Hail Mary with seven seconds left on the clock.
It’s safe to say today’s been a fucking shit show.
And while the crowd at West End pulses with excitement from tonight’s Kings win, my fucking brain just hurts.
Maybe from the game.
Maybe I took one too many hits.
Who knows?
Maybe I’m just getting too damn old for this shit.
“Thanks,” I murmur, shaking myself out of my funk as I take the beer from Hendrix and tap my bottle to his. “It’s good to have you home, man.”
“Not sure if it’s good to be home yet. I’ll get back to you on that,” he says and signs quickly, knowing even with my hearing aids turned all the way up, it’s virtually impossible for me to hear anything in here.
Hendrix was one of the first friends I had who learned sign language after my accident.
Pretty damn sure he took to it faster than I did. Always the book-smart one.
He leans back in the booth, stretching his arms out along the soft leather, and a slow grin creeps across his face as he lifts his chin and nods toward the bar, making sure he’s still in my line of sight.
Hendrix knows reading lips is as second nature for me as signing is.
Sometimes it’s just easier. “So you gonna tell me what the story is there? Your eyes have been glued on the hot new sister for the past hour.”
“Fuck you,” I laugh. “She’s not my sister.” I force myself to take a pull of my beer before my eyes go back to Delaney as if drawn there like a goddamned magnet. He’s right. I’ve been looking at her all night, because it’s the one thing I can do. Look. “And she’s got a name.”
It really is good to have him home.
I mean, what’s a best friend if not an asshole who knows you better than you know yourself?
“Yeah . . . I know.” He laughs, and I flip him off.
“Listen, I’ve been home for five days, dickhead.
Do you know the shit I had to put up with at the game?
My entire family was there, and you know what that’s like, but I still went to see you on that field,” he signs, and sips his beer.
“I left my kid at home with my sister’s feral brood.
The least you can do is tell me why you’re staring at your roommate’s new wife’s little sister. ”
“My roommate is your cousin, asshat, and speaking of family, half of yours is on the team. Your dad is my head coach, and your uncle is the QB coach. Your other uncle and cousin are two of the goddamn captains. So don’t tell me you were there for me, asshole.
” I shake my head, laughing. “And don’t blame me for your sister’s kids.
It’s not my fault they’re feral. I swear to God, one of the triplets forced her brother to eat a fucking bug at the preseason picnic.
She sat on him until he opened his mouth to yell at her, then shoved a ladybug down his throat.
It was brutal, and kind of hilarious. They look all sweet and innocent with their big blue eyes and cute blonde curls, but they’re vicious little devils in tutus. ”
“What can I say? Good twin got the bad kids.” He lifts a brow and waits, not dropping his Delaney question.
Like I said . . . dickhead.
She’s still standing at the bar. Her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, catching in the dim light, and her head thrown back, laughing at something Jamie just said.
The tiny woman has made it hard to look anywhere else since she came into our lives two months ago.
Her sister Ashton and she are carbon copies.
It’s hard to believe they have different moms. At barely five foot two, she’s tiny but fucking beautiful and about as closed off as they come.
“There’s noth—” My fist tightens around my bottle as some asshole crowds her from behind.
He’s trying to act like he wants the bartender’s attention, but the hand he just touched her ass with should be broken for thinking he had the right to get that close.
When I turn back to Hendrix, his grin’s gone from funny to deranged.
“Looking awfully possessive for nothing to be going on, Ryker.” He adjusts his glasses, and I want to wipe the cocky look from his face.
“Do you remember me telling you about that girl from last spring?” I ask, forcing my eyes to stay trained on Hendrix and not back at the bar. He shakes his head, and I get it. He’s had a hell of a bad year. “The one who worked at the bar in Sugar Hill. The one—”
His eyes narrow as it registers. “The one who shot you down?”
“Why are we friends?” I ask.
“You’re my kid’s godfather. You kinda have to like me.
” The fucker shrugs. “She’s the reason you spent the entire spring drinking too much, while you sat at that shithole bar, trying to get the pretty girl to go out with you.
And she spent the whole offseason saying no, right? ” Of course he’s enjoying my pain.
“It wasn’t like that.” It kind of was, but I’m not about to tell the smug bastard he’s right. Losing the battle, I give in and look back at Delaney.
The first time I saw her, I’d spent the day working on the house I’d been fixing up on Sweet Water Creek and stopped at the bar for a beer and a burger on my way home.
And there she was, wiping down the counter.
A loose, white, V-neck tee giving a glimpse of perfectly tanned, toned skin, her hair piled in a messy bun on top of her head, and denim shorts that made her tiny legs look a mile long.
She was fucking beautiful in the most unassuming way I’d ever seen.
And she didn’t want a damn thing to do with me.
“What was it like, then?” Hendrix pushes, looking past me to the bar. “Because I’ve seen you looking at her, but your girl over there hasn’t been looking at you.”
“She’s a cool girl, but she’s not my girl.
” Not for lack of trying on my part. I thought there was something there.
Something worth trying. Turns out, I was wrong.
“I don’t know. She was there one day, then she wasn’t the next, and I didn’t see her again for three months.
Not until she showed up on Jamie’s doorstep with information on her sister,” I tell him and watch her smiling with Ashton.
Jamie’s moved in behind the girls, blocking them from the handsy asshole.
“It was also before she started spending all her spare time at the house with Ashton.”
“So she shot you down, and now what, you see her every day and act like you don’t know her?”
Fuck, I wish he was wrong.
“Pretty much.”
“And you’re what, going to just let her go?” He fucking pushes harder. “The universe just placed this woman in your lap for a second time, man. Maybe don’t be so blasé about it. You might not get a third chance.”
“The universe?” I laugh. “More like karma.”
“Yeah well, karma’s a whore.” Hendrix cocks a brow. “Have you tried talking to her?”
I peel the wet label from my bottle, feeling like I might just be the bitch now. “I’ve been busy with preseason.”
“What a bullshit excuse, man. Seriously? What’s it been?
Two months? Three? Have you guys talked at all?
” His head swivels back to Delaney, and I might fight the urge to hit him over the head with the damn bottle to wipe the smug smile from his face.
“Bad news. Looks like karma just stuck Baltimore’s offensive tackle in her path tonight anyway. ”
I turn around and bite back a curse. The asshole I just spent an entire game going up against slid into the spot Jamie and Ashton just left.
Oh, fuck no.
Delaney
Why do men think it’s okay to crowd you?
Just because they’re bigger and look like they can bench-press a bulldozer, they feel like it’s their right to get in your space and force you to either be touching them or make yourself smaller.
Newsflash—99.9 percent of the time, I’m going to make myself smaller because I don’t want some creep touching me unless I’ve invited him to.
And I didn’t invite him to.
I should have gone home with my sister and her husband when they asked.
Damn it.
Quickly, I glance over at Kaleigh, dancing with some hottie from the team.
She’s one of the small group of women I now call friends in Kroydon Hills, even if that’s not something I’m exactly used to just yet.
She and I came together tonight, and I’m pretty sure girl code says if you come together, you leave together . . . right?
The girls like to tease me that they forced their friendships on me, and truthfully, they’re not wrong. Even if I haven’t told them how much I appreciate it.
I’ve never been that girl.
The one with tons of friends.
Or more accurately, the one with any friends.
Friends weren’t an option, when you grew up the way I did.
But that changed when I met my sister, and she kind of forced them all on me.
It’s safe to say that woman is a force of nature.
And even safer to say I’m glad she’s mine.
We met. I may or may not have played a part in saving her life. And when my house and my father’s bar were seized during the investigation, she may or may not have, in the nicest, most insistent way imaginable, helped find me a new job and apartment.