6. Serena
SERENA
Someone recently asked me if I had made plans for the fall.
It took me a minute to realize they meant the season, not the epic failure my life’s become.
—Serena’s Secret Thoughts
Rafe
Hey, little Kingston.
Serena
I have a name.
Rafe
I know, but it’s so much more fun imagining the annoyed look on your face when I don’t use it.
Serena
You realize there’s something seriously wrong with you, right?
Rafe
Ehh. We’re family now. You’re stuck with me.
Serena
We are not family.
Rafe
Your cousin married my brother. Pretty sure that makes us family.
Serena
He’s not even your biological or legal brother. You just call him that.
Rafe
Family is the people you decide belong in your life.
I could be your family, little Kingston.
Serena
I have enough family, Rafe.
Rafe
Good because incest isn’t my thing.
Serena
I already told you I’m not going on a date with you.
Rafe
Can’t blame a guy for trying.
Serena
I’m not in any shape to deal with men right now.
Rafe
Does that mean you could be in the future?
Serena
Doubtful.
Rafe
But there’s hope.
Serena
Nope.
Rafe
Harsh.
Serena
Honest.
Rafe
Want to grab lunch then, friend? I’m already in Philly.
Serena
What are you doing in Philly?
Rafe
Having lunch with you.
Serena
I don’t know.
Rafe
You’ve got to eat.
Of course, my stomach picks now to growl.
Not that the pain in my ass can hear it.
Serena
Fine.
Rafe
Damn. You’re not exactly good for a man’s ego.
Serena
Friends don’t fake it, Langley.
Rafe
I’m going to remind you of that one day.
What the hell does that mean?
I reread Rafe’s last text, my mind chewing the words over when a throat clears near my office door.
“Want to tell me what’s got you looking like someone just told you Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny had a threesome with the Tooth Fairy?” Teagan asks as she lets herself in. “I mean,”—she makes a circle with her shiny black-tipped fingers—“you look confused.”
Sweet Jesus, someone remind me why working with family is supposed to be a good thing because as far as I can see, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. “Hello to you too, Teags.”
She steps into the room, the perfect embodiment of the beautiful, confident, future CEO she is in a gorgeous black knee-length skirt and a sleeveless hot-pink blouse.
Her red-soled, black Mary Janes put her easily at five ten, which has her towering over me as she drops a file folder on my desk.
“Max isn’t going to send you these, so I thought I would. ”
I stare down at the manilla folder like it’s going to bite me.
Teagan and I are the same age. We graduated from college at the same time.
Our dads are brothers. But that’s where the similarity ends.
I became a professional soccer player. She came to work for the Revolution.
She spent the past six years learning the ropes.
She’s worked in every department, seeing how the organization works from the ground up.
Working her way up to her current position as team manager.
She’s basically Dad’s go-to girl.
She’s who he wishes I was.
She’s who he should be training to take over the team.
Not me.
Soccer bonded her younger sister Aurora and me. Teags and I have never had that kind of relationship. I love her. But we’ve never been as close as some of my other cousins, so seeing her every day since I came to work for the Revolution has been . . . different.
“Do I want to know why not?” I ask before flipping the folder open and skimming the résumé sitting on top of the pile.
“If you have to ask, you don’t know your dad.” With two hands planted on her slim hips, sharp eyes, not quite green but not quite blue, narrow like I’ve asked the dumbest question she’s heard today. Unfortunately for me, she’s probably not wrong. “He doesn’t want you to leave, Serena.”
I close the folder and run my hand over it. “Yeah . . . I know.”
“Some people would do anything for this job.” Annoyance clings to her unusually icy tone. “And you’re throwing it away.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” I snap, tired of defending myself. To her. To Mom. To Dad. Everyone thinks I should be grateful for the opportunity instead of wanting to figure out what I want to do instead.
“Is it?” she pushes the way only family can and basically cements my thinking.
“Knock, knock.” Rafe smiles from the doorway, a tight blue New Jersey Nobles hockey tee clinging to his broad chest as my assistant moves around him, her lips pressed together, clearly flustered.
“Sorry, Serena. This gentleman—”
Rafe’s eyebrows shoot up. “Not sure she considers me a gentleman.”
I drop my head to my hands.
He is a gentleman, whether he wants to admit it or not.
“It’s okay, Robin. Thank you,” I tell the older woman, who’s worked in this office for half my life. “Mr. Langley is a friend.” I add extra emphasis on the word friend. The last thing I need is Rafe getting any ideas. I’m not sure I could handle screwing anything else up.
With a smug smile, the giant of a man pushes into my office.
“A friend?” Teagan questions, staring directly at the Revolution’s rival’s logo on Rafe’s tee.
When your teams are basically across a bridge from each other, a rivalry is expected.
But our two teams have taken that to a whole other level over the years.
“I wasn’t aware you were friends with any Nobles. ”
“Yeah . . .” I stand, unwilling to tell her exactly how I met Rafe. At least not yet. When Olivia’s ready, that can be her story to tell. “It’s a newer friendship.”
Not a complete lie. Not the complete truth. That’ll work for now.
“You ready for lunch?” Rafe asks, looking between Teagan and me. “You could bring your—”
“Who’s going to lunch?” another distinctively masculine voice asks from the door.
What the hell? When did my office turn into Grand Central Station?
Oh God . . . And why are Leo and Hendrix Sinclair standing just outside?
Forget Grand Central Station. When exactly did my day go off the rails?
“Not you, Leo.” Teagan turns her nose up at the middle Sinclair brother.
“Aww, Teagie . . . You still pissed I’m off the market?” he teases as I make the mistake of looking at Hendrix.
Our eyes lock, and I can’t look away, no matter how much I wish I could.
Teagan says something I don’t quite catch as I fight for control of my entire nervous system.
The one that seems to malfunction around this man.
Pain and happiness and heartbreak and hope swirl together like a vortex of emotions.
Emotions I try to force back down into the box they need to stay buried in.
Compartmentalization for the win.
“Langley?” Leo turns to Rafe, less than thrilled to see him here, and I force myself back into the moment. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Why do you care?” I ask Leo, more than a little freaked-out by the way my body is trying to slide into fight-or-flight mode.
Looks like fight might be winning.
Rafe steps into my side and slings an arm around my shoulder.
One I immediately shrug off.
Nope. Not doing that.
“Just taking my friend out to lunch.” The dumbass grins. “Why? You worried your team is looking to replace you, Sinclair?”
“With you?” Leo laughs. “Hardly.”
“You okay, Serena?” Teagan whispers, and I tear my eyes from Hendrix.
This is not me.
I’m stronger than this.
I think . . .
After a few moments of stupid male posturing, I finally manage to move. “I’m fine. Just starving.” I step behind my desk and grab my purse. “Did you need something, Leo?”
There.
That sounded professional and not at all like I’m about to completely lose my shit. Which I am. Again.
“Nah.” His smile finally reaches his eyes. “I was just showing Hendrix where the offices are. Max wanted to talk to him.”
Of course, he did.
“Well, it looks like you found them.” I shut down my computer and look at Rafe. “Are you ready to go?”
“Lead the way, little Kingston.”
“I told you to stop calling me that,” I growl with absolutely no force behind it as I wait for everyone to clear out of my office, ignoring the weight of the stare that still lingers.
“Yeah well”—Rafe holds his hand out for me to go first—“I told you no.”
We move beyond my door, and I pull it closed behind us as both Sinclair brothers and Teagan crowd my space.
“Are you two seeing each other?”
Hendrix’s words are clipped and cold.
Like he has any right to ask them.
I take a small breath, steady my hands, and point to Dad’s office. “Dad’s office is right there.”
Rafe places his palm against the small of my back, and I’m surprisingly grateful for the extra support, even if his hand on my body feels wrong.
“See you guys later,” I add as we start to walk away.
But not fast enough to miss Hendrix’s parting words.
“Yeah, you will.”