Sleeping together? Is that what she thinks we're doing? I mean, fuck yeah, we're sleeping together. But if that's all she thinks this is, clearly, I did not say the right things last night.
She isn't a hookup. This isn't temporary.
I don't tell her that again, though. For whatever reason, she just isn't hearing me. So I need a new plan. Preferably, one that strips away all the bullshit that's been put into her head and makes her realize that she isn't some fucking inconvenience, problem, or favor. She's exactly what I want.
"You're coming to the game tomorrow, Hattie. When it's over, I'm kissing you as soon as I'm off the field. And then, we're coming back here, and I'm going to do what I did last night and will do again tonight, all over again."
She stares at me for a long moment before her lips curve into a soft smile. "Okay," she says sweetly. "But…um…can we go to my place tonight?"
"Why?"
"My fish is probably lonely."
"Did you just say that your fish is probably lonely?" I ask, grinning at her.
"Don't judge me, Sidney Hawkes." She pokes me in the chest. "Fish have feelings too. I mean, probably." She makes this adorable huffing noise that tells me she's making shit up as she goes along. "You know what? That's beside the point. The point is, he's my fish, and he can have feelings if I want him to."
I'm marrying this girl. There's no other choice. I'm marrying her wild ass. I won't survive any other outcome.
"Yeah, butterfly," I say, leaning down to brush my lips against hers. "We can stay at your place tonight."
"Yo, Hawkes!"
"Fuck," I mutter, scowling as soon as Tye shouts my name while we're standing on the side of the field. Whatever he has to say, this isn't the time or place. The entire team is here, and so are several reporters.
As expected, the photos of his sister and me getting tacos are all over the place. There's no way he hasn't seen them. Frankly, I expected him to confront me earlier, but we've both been busy all goddamn day.
I reluctantly turn to face him as he stomps up to me. "Tye. What's up?"
He leans against the separation barrier, his arms crossed, his expression rife with suspicion. "You took my sister out last night."
"I did."
"Huh," he grunts. "And is there a reason you didn't bother fucking mentioning it beforehand? We talked yesterday. You didn't say shit about it."
I consider lying to him, but I actually respect him. We've been tight since we both signed to the team in the same season. I don't want to fuck that up. But frankly…I've let our friendship stand between me and his sister for long enough already.
I figured since she didn't even want to be in the same room as me, there was no reason to rock the boat. Why tell him that I was feeling her when she clearly wasn't on the same page? Turns out, I was fucking wrong about that. She is on the same page. She's just afraid to let herself feel it. For some goddamn reason, her mother has convinced her that she's less than her brothers and will never fit into this world.
Fuck that noise.
She fits. She was made to fit in the crook of my arm, right up against my side.
"Yeah, actually, there is a reason," I say, eyeing him. "It wasn't your business."
"She's my sister," he growls.
"You don't own her, man. Hattie is her own person. She can make her own decisions, and her decision last night was to get tacos and go to the ballet with me."
He glowers at me and then mutters a curse. "Why? So our mother would see the photos and back off?"
"Maybe she just wanted tacos." I turn to glance out onto the field before looking at him again. "But while we're on the subject of your mother, the way you let her treat Hattie is fucked up."
"What the fuck?" He narrows his eyes at me. "You think I let her treat her that way? Motherfucker, I've been fighting for Hattie for longer than you can even imagine."
"And yet, she's still miserable. You know she thinks there's something wrong with her? That your mother told her that she isn't beautiful?" I scowl at him, pissed at the reminder. "She hides in your shadow because it's where your mother convinced her that she belongs."
His jaw clenches hard enough to shatter. "You think I don't know how fucked up it is?" he asks, his voice soft. The guilt in his eyes says he knows all too well. "You think that shit doesn't eat me alive? She's mysister, man. I hate my own mother mostdays because of the way she treats Hattie. It's not any different for Harlan and Briggs, either. We've cut Mom off so many times, refused to even speak to her. It never changes a goddamn thing. It only makes Hattie sad." He rakes a hand through his hair, his expression ravaged.
