Dare You to Make Me Stay (Sibling Goals #1)

Chapter One

Austin

"Austin Alaric Hawkes."

Two things can be true at once. You can be one of the biggest athletes in the country—both in size and reputation—and still cringe like a goddamn seven-year-old when your mama uses that tone.

You know, the one that conveys the depths of her irritation with just your full name?

No one is old enough not to sweat that tone.

Fuck. My. Life.

What'd I do to piss her off this time?

"What's up, Ma?" I ask, clutching the phone between my ear and my shoulder while rummaging through my closet to find something to wear to the team party tonight.

Attendance is mandatory, which means the venue will be crawling with paparazzi, models, and everyone else in this city hoping for five minutes of my time.

Since I was traded to the Washington Monuments as their starting QB last season, I have to show up and be seen. I'd rather chew glass, but a motherfucker's gotta do what a motherfucker's gotta do.

"What do you mean, you're not looking for love?" Ma cries into the phone.

"I didn't say that," I protest. It's a lie. I absolutely did say that. The last thing on my agenda right now is falling in love. The team isn't paying me millions to lose my shit over a woman. They're paying me millions to bring home championship rings.

Yet, every damn time I turn around, someone is trying to get in my pants.

And if I'm even photographed remotely close to a woman, suddenly, the whole world thinks we're fucking.

Better to head that shit off at the pass and make it clear that I'm not looking or interested than to deal with the same drama for another season.

I will not be telling Ma that, however. She's convinced all three of her kids hate her because none of us are married and giving her grandbabies.

Like me, my brother, Sidney, plays professional football for Chicago.

And our baby sister, Sophie, is a ballerina, also in Chicago.

Marriage and kids aren't on the radar for any of us.

Ask Ma if she gives a shit. She wants grandbabies. Yesterday.

Our fans are firmly on her side. Last I heard, they were taking bets on which of us would fall first. For the record, pitting three competitive siblings against one another in a race to see who falls first is guaran-damn-teed to have the opposite effect.

At this rate, I may be ninety before I take that leap, just to outlast Sidney and Sophie.

I'd punch someone in the throat for them without hesitation, but I refuse to lose to either of them. Fuck that noise. They'd never let me live it down.

"According to Celebrity Teatime, you did," Ma bitches. "I'm looking at the article right now."

"Ma," I groan. "You know you shouldn't be reading that shit."

"You did the interview, Austin Alaric."

"Not by choice," I grumble, pulling a white suit from a hanger.

"They accosted me outside the airport. Answering their questions is better than telling them to fuck off.

" When you answer, they leave you alone for a little while.

When you don't, they make a game of harassing the shit out of you at every available opportunity.

I prefer to be left the fuck alone, thank you very much.

"Well, if you can talk to them, I can read what you had to say," she huffs, making me smile.

"Yeah?" I quirk a brow. "Does Pops know that you're reading gossip about us again? What'd he tell you last time?"

"Mind your business," she growls at me. "Or I'll tell him that you were the one who wrecked his truck when you were seventeen."

"Ma!" I pull the phone away from my ear to gape at it. "You're diabolical." No wonder Sophie is a savage. She gets it from our mother.

"Have to be," Ma says. "I married your father and then gave birth to you and your brother. You're both just like him. And don't even get me started on your sister."

"So…you're saying I'm your favorite, right?"

"You were," she sniffs. "This article is changing my mind."

"Then stop reading it. I can't have the goddamn papers turning my own mother against me."

"I want grandbabies, Austin."

"How about a dog?" I suggest. It seems like a good compromise to me.

"A dog?" Guess she disagrees. She sounds horrified by the prospect. "You can't distract me with a dog, Austin Alaric. Your father is still allergic, and I'm not five. Give me grandbabies before I'm too old to enjoy them."

"Ma, you're fifty."

"Exactly. If you kids wait much longer, I'll be old and decrepit."

A bark of laughter erupts from my lips as I toss the suit onto my bed.

"Now I know you're full of shit," I say, shaking my head.

"You could run laps around all three of us.

" Hell, she'll be running laps around all three of us when she's eighty.

The woman is a force of nature and always has been. I love the fuck out of her.

"It could happen," she says, a smile in her voice. "You never know."

"It's not allowed to happen. You have to live forever."

"You're my favorite again."

I grin, stripping my towel off to get dressed. She's full of shit, but it's fine. We're all her favorites. "I gotta go."

"What? Why? I'm not done bullying you into giving me what I want."

I chuckle, not surprised. Ma is nothing if not honest. "Team party tonight."

"And you're going?"

"You don't have to sound so shocked," I mutter.

"You never party. You have a stick up your butt just like your father."

"I'm telling him you said that."

"I say it to him all the time," she says with a soft laugh. "But it's true. You never go to team parties. You spend all your time on the field, in the gym, at the soup kitchen, or doing boring things. It's why I still don't have grandbabies."

That's definitely not why she doesn't have grandbabies, but I'm not stupid enough to correct the record now.

"They're forcing me to go."

"Of course they are." She laughs at my pain. "I would tell you to have fun, but I know you. You'll hate every minute of it."

"That's the plan."

"Well, at least try to act like you're having fun, dear. You really should live a little, you know. It won't kill you."

"I have plenty of fun."

"Uh-huh," she says, making it clear she doesn't believe me.

It's true, though. I may not party or fuck around like a lot of my teammates, but my life is fucking great.

I get paid millions to play the sport I love.

I live in a mansion full of shit I love.

I get to make a difference for the people who need it the most. My family is great.

My friends are great. I'm golden. Except…

No. Absolutely not.

I shut that thought down before it fully forms, refusing to go there. I'm great. Everything is great. No need to rehash all the reasons why falling in love right now would be a terrible idea.

"Well, I guess I'll call and harass your brother for a while. Love you," Ma says.

"I love you too. Tell Sidney hey for me."

"Will do. I can't wait until you two play each other in a few weeks. It's so nice to have my boys in the same place, even if they are on opposite teams."

"Just so long as you root for me, Ma."

"Depends on who agrees to give me grandbabies first," she says.

"Ma!"

"I'm just saying."

"You're diabolical."

She laughs again, completely unapologetic. "Bye, honey."

"Bye, Ma."

We hang up, and I toss my phone onto the bed before scrubbing a hand down my face, trying to get my shit together and clear my mind.

I think Ma is fucking with my head. More and more lately, I find myself wondering what if. What if I found a woman I wanted to settle down with? What if I fell in love? Would it really be so terrible to have someone to come home to every day?

It's the last thing I need, but…maybe some part of me wants it anyway. Football doesn't keep you warm at night. Neither does a championship ring. And it doesn't matter how many hours I volunteer off the field, I still come home to an empty house when all is said and done.

Truth be told, I want the kind of love my parents have. But finding that in my world is damn near impossible. Everyone has an agenda. They don't actually give a shit about me. They want Austin Hawkes, the star quarterback.

I sigh heavily, preparing to be him again tonight. But not before I grab my phone from the bed and text Sidney and Sophie.

Me: I'm Ma's favorite again.

Sophie responds immediately with a middle finger emoji. I'm halfway through dressing when Sidney finally responds.

Sid: That was five minutes ago. I'm her favorite now.

Me: You agree to give her grandbabies?

Sid: Fuck no. Sophie can do that.

Sophie: You're both delusional. Stop bugging me. I'm busy.

I knot my tie, frowning at the phone.

Me: Busy with what?

Sophie: Weird how you think my business is yours.

Me: Are you fucking someone?

Sidney: You better not be fucking anyone.

Me: Who is he?

Sophie: OMG. Will you two shut up? I'm trying to teach a class.

Sidney: You could have just said that…

Sophie: I'm mothing you now. Bye, Felicia.

Sophie: Mothing

Sophie: MOTHING

Sophie: JFC. I give up.

Sidney: Oh no. Please don't moth me.

I chuckle when he sends a GIF of Mothman, and she immediately sends another middle finger emoji.

Sidney: I think she's fucking someone.

Sophie: You're still in the group chat, asshole.

Sidney: So? You mothed me.

Me: You two fight it out. I'm going to a party.

Sophie: What?

Sidney: Holy shit.

"Jesus Christ," I mutter, scowling at the phone. Is it really that unusual? I'm busy, not a goddamn shut-in.

Two hours later, I wish I were a shut-in. The party is at Stu Mancini's mansion in Spring Valley. The place is stunning, but it's loud, crowded, and fucking hot.

As suspected, there are paparazzi and models everywhere, and they're all eyeing me like I'm a rare steak on the menu. Frankly, I'd rather run naked down Pennsylvania Ave than wade into those waters.

"You look pissy tonight," Killian Montero says, smirking as I snatch a glass of wine off a tray.

"I feel like I'm on display at the fucking zoo," I mutter, taking a sip of my wine.