Chapter 13 – QUINN
QUINN
Ispray a fresh round of sunscreen over my arms and legs before I drop the can back into my backpack. I’m wearing a hat with my hair pulled through the back, but holy hot balls, it’s scorching out here today and humid AF to boot.
I take a pull of my water from my water bottle, grateful it’s still cool considering I filled it entirely with ice this morning.
Yet another reason why I prefer hockey and basketball? Ice and air conditioning. No elements. I’m a snowboarder. We like cold, not blazing sun and heat.
The team is on the field, and I’m bored. So bored I pull out my phone to doomscroll because that seems preferable. You know what? Fuck it.
“I’m running to the ladies’ room,” I tell the physician’s assistant beside me. “I’ll be back in a few.”
“Kiss the air conditioning for me.”
I grin and wink at her. “I will.”
I head off the field toward the locker room, rounding my way by the parking lot when I catch the faint bite of a whistle behind me.
I can’t make out what Coach is saying, but it sounds like they’re finishing up, which is weird.
I glance back over my shoulder and note the players heading to the sidelines to grab their waters and towels.
I check my watch and realize it’s lunchtime. It must be their break. I go to unlock my phone when a face flashes on the black screen. It startles me, and I jump forward and spin around at the same time.
My breath lodges in my lungs, but my heart takes off at a sprint. “What are you doing here?”
Russel stands before me, all six foot four of him with broad shoulders and a tapered waist. His wavy blond hair is shorter than the last time I saw him, and he’s put on more muscle, but everything else is the same. Same brown eyes, same cocky smirk, same asshole face I want to rearrange.
“I called and texted you. You never got back to me.”
My eyebrows take a nosedive. “Are you high or just completely deranged? Why would I pick up the phone when you call? I didn’t want to talk to you. I assumed you understood that unless you’re dumber than I remember you being.”
I hate that he’s here. I could have gone forever without having to see him again.
“Fine. I deserve that.” He shifts, his eyes dancing around my face. “But wow, it’s so good to see you. You look beautiful—”
“Oh my god! Shut up! Stop talking. Now.”
“Come on, Quinn. Don’t be like that.”
Is he kidding?
“If you value any part of your general anatomy, you won’t speak another word. Or better yet, how about you leave and never return.” I pause, my thoughts catching up to reality. “Wait. Something isn’t right. You can’t be here for me.”
“But what if I am?”
Cocky motherfucker. I’m so not amused. “Did you know I was here?” I press.
“I called your office, and they said you were working here this season.” A smile lights up his face, and his hands go to his hips like a triumphant warrior. “You have no clue how perfect that is, even if I know you must be hating it. I always wished you liked football more than you did.”
“I legit don’t care.” I squint. “Don’t presume to know anything about me anymore. Are you even allowed to be here?”
“No. I mean, well...” He laughs. “Not exactly. It’s why I’m nowhere near the field and have been staying in the parking lot. I’m not allowed to watch the team practice, and I haven’t.”
“So you’re lingering in the shadows just off the field like a fucking creeper for no reason? How about I call security and have them remove you?”
His arms pan out wide. “The parking lot is a public space. Anyone can be in it.”
“Why are you here?” I grit out.
“I missed you.”
Missed me? “Fuck you!”
His arms swing in, and he stretches his hands toward me. “Quinn, stop. Can we please be adults?”
My eyebrows shoot up into my hair and become one. “Adults?” Is he kidding? The prick broke up with me over a text after almost three years together. “What are you doing here?” I bite out, enunciating the words since he still hasn’t answered.
He grunts and returns his hands to his hips. “I’m here for several reasons.”
“Which are?”
“The coach. The team. The girl.”
I glare, and my fists ball up as nerves rattle through me. Clearly, I’m still bitter. Or perhaps simply hateful. “The girl you’re referencing better not be me. And the team better not be this one.”
He doesn’t respond, and I swear, he’ll lose a limb in a few seconds. I have no patience this week.
“Why do you want the coach and the team? What would that have to do with you calling me?”
Before he can answer me, shouts come from behind me as a figure zooms by my right side.
I catch a flash of hair and a large body before a fist flies and a sickening crunch fills the air.
Russel is knocked off his feet, his body catching air for a half-second before he slams on the ground of the parking lot, the back of his head narrowly missing the asphalt.
He curses and covers his face, but blood is already seeping through his fingers.
“You motherfucker,” Crew barks, standing over him, his fist balled so tight, the skin is white.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for years.
What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?
You have no right to talk to her! Stay the fuck away from my sister, or next time I’ll do more than break your pretty-boy nose. ”
“Fuck you!” Russel snarls as he sits up, wiping his nose with his shirt and spitting blood on the ground.
“Fuck me?” Crew bites out and grabs the front of Russel’s shirt, ready to hit him again. “You dumb piece of shit. What the hell are you doing in Boston? This isn’t your team or your town.”
“Crew. Let go!” I step in front of him and push him back just as Mason comes charging in.
“What the fuck is this piece of shit doing here?” Mason is about to kill him too.
Russel gets to his feet as about half a dozen players come over. “Why don’t you ask your sister what I’m doing here?”
Oh no, he didn’t.
Mason charges, and I step in front of him.
“What the hell is going on here?!” Coach comes running over and pulls Russel back. I put my back to them and plant my hands on my brothers’ chests.
“You son of a bitch!” Mason bursts out and tests the strength of my resistance against his chest. “You don’t know her. You hear me?!”
“You don’t get to talk about her!” Crew adds.
“Quit it! Both of you,” I yell in their faces. “What are you doing? He’s not worth your hands.”
“Oh, I beg to differ.” Mason rolls his head until his neck pops. “Hitting him would make my hands very happy.”
“Don’t tell me you’re defending that piece of shit?” Crew is a half beat from flying off the handle.
I get right up in their faces, my fists gripping their sweaty jerseys. “Not even a little. But I won’t let you break your hands over him either. Why do you think I didn’t hit him? Let me see your hand.”
“Fuck that!” Crew snaps.
“It was a sucker punch,” Russel grouses. “No way you’d have gotten that good a hit on me otherwise.”
“Oh yeah? Let’s see how well I can do.” Mason charges, and I walk forward, putting my weight into it as I push him back.
And because Russel’s a piece of shit, he smiles, all red teeth and everything. “Come and try me, princess.”
“Enough of this!” Coach yells, a hand on Russel’s shoulder. “All of you, out of here. There’s fucking press out here today. Do you want this on ESPN? Just because you’re not on the field doesn’t make this private.”
“I don’t give a shit.” Mason shoves against my hand, his face red with rage, same as Crew’s. “Let them know what a selfish, self-serving prick he is.”
“Now you know why I’ve been calling you.” Russel’s voice is mocking as he says that to me, almost amused. “I was going to see if you could keep your brothers from acting like children and somehow all be adults so I could talk to you like one first.”
“He’s been calling you?” That comes from Rhett, which throws me a bit.
“You don’t get to call her! You don’t even get to look at her!”
“Crew. Calm down. Both of you!” I give them another press with my hand. “Let me see your hand.”
Crew growls, his eyes hard on Russel. “It’s fine.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
He glowers at me. “You didn’t tell me he’s been calling you.”
“Because she likes me being her little secret.”
Jesus hell.
I spin around, ignore the ring of men surrounding me, and walk right up to Russel. “You enjoy bleeding? Are you dumb enough to believe only they can do that to you?”
“Come on,” he says lightly. “They’re the ones pushing me. I’m not serious.”
“Then don’t be more of an asshole than you already are. No one wants you here. Take the hint and leave before it’s my turn to make you hurt.”
“Can’t do that. Besides, you just said you won’t hit me because of your hands.”
Rhett is standing right by Russel’s side, his eyes all over me, but I can’t focus on him either.
“You’re right. I won’t hit you. My hands are worth a hell of a lot more than you are.”
In one swift motion, my knee flies up, and I nail him straight in the balls. The guys watching this choke and wince in sympathy with lots of ohhhs and damns filling the air.
Mason bursts out laughing. “Shit. I could hear how hard she nailed you from here.”
Russel wheezes out a pained breath and collapses to his knees as he cups his groin.
I fight my smile.
That felt so good.
“Next time, don’t test me, princess.” I spin around and go back to my brothers. My hand meets Crew’s shoulder, and I force his gaze to me. “He’s not important. You are. I want to see your hand.”
“Doctor Reyes, take both of them inside and look at Crew’s hand,” Rhett demands. “The rest of you get an hour for lunch, but that’s it, and you’re already wasting minutes.”
I don’t glance back at Rhett or Russel. I grab my brothers by their arms and yank them away. Neither is happy, but they’re calmer now that I nailed Russel in the nuts.
But the bigger question remains. What is Russel actually doing here?