Chapter 19
As soon as Boone’s feet hit the dirt, he's gone and Rhea struggles to let go of Kaia fast enough. She trips for a heartbeat before digging into the dirt and finding her stride to catch up with my brother. She tries, but there’s no catching him with the head start.
She reaches for his shorts, but he spins away, skips a few steps, and slides over the line for the try.
He picks himself and the ball off the ground, pointing at Kaia and returning the smug wink she had tossed him earlier. I shake my head as Cael blows the whistle to call the five-minute break, and we all gather for some water.
“Don’t get cocky,” I warn Boone and hand him the water bottle. I look over my shoulder, and Cael is smiling, chatting away with Rhea. My jaw tightens uncomfortably. “That gremlin’s not calling bad hits. Keep it clean.”
“I’m fully aware we’re down, Bri,” he says to me, snatching it away. “Maybe if you spent less time rolling around in the dirt, making out with Reaper, we’d be winning.”
I stare at him. She’d hit me hard. I hope she’s okay. I fight the urge to look over my shoulder again just to check. Is it Cael or is it her that has you so unbalanced?
“Just play. Stop showing off,” I warn.
I fix the sleeves on my jersey, rub the sweat from my palms, and stare down Cael until he blows the whistle again.
It’s all I can do to keep my focus. Rhea laughs about something with Kaia, and it feels like it’s been weeks since I last heard that noise.
Every day that goes by, her sad girl smile chips away at what resolve I have, and I find myself softening to her more than I respectfully should.
“Just play,” Boone mocks in my ear as we line up.
I run my hand through my hair and take count of the opponents. Kaia is twitching at the end of their line, her body itching to move.
“Try to keep the tackles fair, Black,” Cael drawls as he passes, twirling that stupid fucking whistle.
I want to choke him with it. He blows it loudly, and the second half of the game starts.
The ball bounces back and forth between the teams for a moment before Cosy wins clean possession and starts to move it up the field.
Judd cuts me off to take Cosy down, and I let him—because before he can even get his hands on her, the ball gets shucked wide into Rhea’s arms. Her long legs pump fast the second she comes in contact with it.
I side-step, encouraging my body forward as she barrels toward the gap between Chris and me.
She’s going to slip right by because he’s slow and clumsy, barely able to stop the ball as it flies by him, and Rhea stiff-arms him straight in the chest.
Shit.
“Get her!” Boone hollers from behind me.
I didn’t need him to tell me what needed to be done.
I'm just not even sure I can catch her at this point.
Unlike Boone, I can admit when someone is faster than me, and Rhea, despite her strength difference, carries herself most gracefully.
I chase after her, seeing the win slipping from our grasp, the closer she gets to the line.
My thighs scream by the time I get in range, and I launch from the dirt, knowing that if I miss the wrap-up, it’s over.
I’m the only person close enough to stop her.
My hands find the soft skin of her stomach and yank her hard against my chest. Our feet tangle.
She gets three more steps before we’re hurling toward the turf.
My shoulder explodes from the contact as I wrap her up and we roll clumsily through the grass.
We land with her on top of me—her chest in my face, that wicked grin already there.
She pops her arm up, ball still in her grip, and taps the grass above my head with it.
“Thanks for the help,” she says in a whisper that shudders through my entire body.
“Yeah,” I groan as she pushes herself off me with her nails digging into my chest. “No worries, Hellcat,” I grunt, pain biting through my shoulder.
“It was a good tackle,” Judd’s voice echoes from my left, and his hand comes into view first, helping me off the ground. “She’s just freakishly tall,” he says.
I grumble something under my breath, and Judd takes that as an agreement as we flood back to our spots down fourteen.
The rest of the game goes worse, the second moral drops, and we realize that we’re the inferior team; the guy’s adrenaline deflates.
Boone does his best to get them back, and we score another try, but Kaia follows it up by running the entire pitch.
She hurdles Raul without pause and flips over the line because she’s just as much of a show-off as Boone.
Cael blows the whistle to end it, and we stand around out of breath and out of confidence, but Kaia is on a mission. She stomps across the field to where Boone has sunk into the grass on his knees, trying to get air into his lungs.
“Say it,” she says again, both hands on her hips.
“Never.” He shakes his head, and she squats down to get level with him.
“Say it,” she demands.
“I fucking hate you,” he grumbles, but there’s a dopey smile on his face.
“No, you don’t,” she’s quick to counter, and she pokes him in the chest. “Say it.”
“You’re better. And faster,” he pants. “Happy now?”
“The happiest,” she sings, springing up from the grass.
Boone groans at the thought of moving that quickly after playing two hard games today, and I relate to the pain on a cellular level.
He pushes from the grass, and Kaia yelps, running away from him, and their laughter fills the quiet night.
I roll back into the grass and stare up at the pitch black sky for a second as I try to recenter myself.
Despite how much I had protested the night before, it had turned out pretty fun.
It’s been a while since I’d actually been out of the house.
“At least they'll sleep well.” Rhea laughs at the two of them playing like little kids as she walks over to me and offers me her hand to pull me from the grass.
She watches Boone catch up to Kaia and haul her over his shoulder.
When she looks back at me, she offers me a tired smile that turns into a yawn.
“Do you need a ride home?” she asks after a minute.
“Yeah, actually. Boone brought me and…” I get distracted by the paint smudge streaked across the top of her breast, staining her sports bra.
“What?” She clocks me staring instantly and panics, looking down at herself. She starts to laugh wildly at the sight of it and shrugs, “You’re not exactly clean yourself, Terminator.”
I look down at myself and see what she means. The paint from her body is smeared all over my jersey, shorts, and skin, all transferred from her body when we collided. It takes me a second to register: she didn’t say my name.
“I hate that nickname,” I groan, caught off guard—then a huff that’s almost a laugh escapes me.
“Oh.” She turns red from embarrassment, and her voice gets really low and slow as she says it. I realize that she looks scolded by the comment, and that’s not how I meant it, because honestly, Rhea can call me whatever she wants as long as she says it like that.
I scowl at myself, and she catches the expression, only furthering the sad look on her face.
Fuck. I force a tiny smile, and she just shakes her head as we make our way over to her car.
She jogs over and grabs her keys from the passenger seat of Kaia’s Impala and rejoins me awkwardly standing with my bag waiting, then heads for a vintage, shiny black Bronco that stops me short.
“Is that a ‘69?” I ask her, pointing to the vehicle, and she nods, her brows furrowing at my surprise.
“It sits in the Hollow parking lot. How have you not noticed it?” She says, popping the window on the bed so I can throw my bag in the back.
I walk around her and open the driver's door, staring at her over the door as she comes to the other side with a smile. “I don’t actually go out back,” I admit. “I park my truck down the street where it’s free.”
“Of course you do,” she says with a small smile. I close the door and wander around to the passenger side. “You own the building.” She questions.
“I don’t own the parking lot,” I argue.
The second I open the door, the smell of girl, art supplies, and sweaty gym gear hits my nose, and I look over the top of the Bronco at her.
“What the hell?” I look inside at the absolute mess of the interior.
The back is completely piled with her belongings and school stuff, and there are so many shaker cups and energy drink cans on the floor, I can’t even tell what color the floor is.
“How old are you?” I grumble.
“Twenty-nine,” she says, her tone confused.
“Not seriously—never mind. This is disgusting,” I say to her, kicking a spot free for my feet as I climb in. “You’re disgusting,” I mutter as she starts the engine.
By the time we get home, it’s already five am, and I can already tell that Rhea is hungry because she beelines up for the fridge.
“Don’t,” I say to her as she reaches for the handle.
“Why not? I’m starving,” she whines.
“You’re covered in paint. Do not touch anything but the shower faucet,” I say, pushing off my cleats and dropping my duffel bag.
“And clean that when you're done,” I warn her. She looks down at herself and shrugs, slinking off to the bathroom. While she’s in there, Daisy emerges from her room, sleepy and bleary-eyed.
“Morning…” she yawns. Of all the things she got from her mother, being a morning person wasn’t one of them. That she got from me.
“You hungry?” I ask her as she eyes the paint that stains my uniform.
“Yeah,” she leaves a headphone out as she slides onto the stool and rests her head in her arms to watch me. “Where were you?” she asks.
“Your uncle had a rugby thing,” I try to lie.
“He made a bet with Auntie K again, didn’t he?” She smiles at me, and I can see her mother so clearly in the expression.
“Mmm,” I hum and nod, throwing a pan on the stove before grabbing the bacon from the fridge.
I get everything going and trade places with Rhea as she scurries back to her room to get dressed.
The rising sun shines through the small bathroom window, illuminating the water droplets she left behind.
And the paint, so much paint. I sigh with an annoyed smile and wipe the floor, clean the counter, and shower before taking the time to clean myself off.
When I return—wet hair, clean skin—Rhea is sitting on the recliner that faces the kitchen with Daisy between her thighs on the floor. Her fingers brush through Daisy’s hair with such ease as she carefully and intricately braids it back off her face into a single, tight line.
“Your dad is pretty good at rugby, but man, Kaia out there, she was so cool tonight,” Rhea says, and I scowl. “You should have seen it, everyone was covered in neon paint.”
“Like glow bowling?” Daisy asks.
“Exactly, and the Hillcats won so…” Rhea whispers.
I check on the bacon, shaking my head at their conversation, but find myself watching the process and wishing that I were the person Daisy asked when she needs her hair braided.
Almost jealous of how easily Rhea manages it.
I can’t really hear what they’re saying, but Daisy smiles up at her and hands her an earbud.
Rhea’s face scrunches up for a second, and her head turns to the side as she listens, but something surprises her, and she shakes her head in disbelief before handing the headphone back.
Daisy thanks her for doing her hair and wanders from the kitchen to get ready for school before breakfast. Rhea finds a spot at the island while I make toast. I get everything together, turning to give her a cup of coffee, only to see her with her head against the countertop, fast asleep.
I set my mug down and stare at her for a second.
Friends would make sure their friends are comfortable… and not sleeping in dangerous positions? Right?
I move around the island, still at war with my own thoughts, and scoop her up against my chest. I don’t move her far, but the feeling of her sleepy, weightless body against mine sends those unfamiliar sparks of possession through me.
My skin practically cries out for her as I lay her on the couch and move away from her.
I cover her with a blanket and stare down at her, still completely out of it.
Just. Friends.