“It does, and I intend to keep fighting to make that happen. It doesn’t matter that I won’t be able to play. I struggled after my accident, knowing that I couldn’t play the sport I love professionally anymore. It took a long time for me to come to terms with that and it was one of the main reasons I was cold to Dylan. I saw her as a stick bunny and I loathed them when I played. All they cared about was the clout that came with dating an athlete.”
“You were an asshole to her. I’m glad that version of you is gone. I like the one before me right now. But just know that if that persona of you turns up again, I’ll fucking kill you. I’m never going to let you treat Dylan the way you did again. I’d rather her be hurt because you’re not part of our family than by your words.” Jacob’s words ring true for me because I feel the same way.
Matthew drops his head, his face red before it disappears from my full view, as he avoids eye contact with us. His shoulders hunch as he takes a bottle of beer from the container and twists off the cap.
“I was a dick. I know it. If I could go back and change how I treated her I would. But all I can do is move forward and thank God that she forgave me for my behavior. I fucked up once withher and I’ll never do it again. That’s one thing I can promise, not only the two of you, but most importantly her.” Matthew's words are genuine and heartfelt.
“Good. Cause I kind of like you now; you’ve grown on me and I’d hate to banish you from Dylan island.” We all burst out laughing at Jacob’s words. For a while there, I didn’t think he’d ever accept Matthew, but he proved me wrong.
“You can still play. Maybe not professionally, but for fun. I know it’s not the same. And as far as the Olympics go, a team always needs a coach. Why can’t that coach be you? You love the game and the players. That’s what’s needed.” Jacob looks at me like he can’t believe I said something so deep. I may be a jokester, but I got depth too. Time I start showing them and not just Dylan.
My phone vibrates, and I pick it up. The ring app on the phone alerting me there’s someone at the door.
“Food’s here. I’m going to get it.” I stand up and head into the house.
Tonight is turning into a good night. Matthew being here feels right. We’re a complete family—one of choice.
Chapter 29
Dylan
When I get home from my meeting with the dean and the coaches, the house feels unusually still—too quiet for three guys who should be here. I step into the backyard and find them passed out, sprawled like warriors after a night of conquest. Ford is face-down on the grass, Jacob is half-twisted in a hammock, and Matthew is slumped against a lawn chair, his mouth slightly open, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
I fold my arms, biting back a laugh. "Idiots," I mutter.
The night air is cool, so I head inside to grab some blankets. One by one, I cover them—Jacob first, because he’s closest to the sliding door. I drape the blanket over him, tucking the edge under his chin like a mom with her kid. He stirs for a second, muttering something about food before slipping back into his booze-induced slumber.
Next is Matthew. I pull the blanket over him carefully, smoothing it over his legs. Even passed out, he looks good, and for a moment, I allow myself the luxury of appreciating the wayhis dark lashes rest against his cheeks. But no way am I waking him up—he deserves this.
Lastly, I approach Ford. The blanket barely covers his massive frame, but it’ll have to do. His hair is a wild mess, sticking up like he’s been electrocuted, and the faint smell of beer lingers around him. I shake my head, amused.
"Sleep tight, boys." I giggle.
With that, I head inside, ready to unwind.
In the bathroom, I fill the tub with steaming water, toss in a lavender-scented bath bomb, and watch it fizz and melt into swirling purples and blues. As the water rises, I strip out of my clothes and step in, sinking down until the warmth wraps around me like a warm winter coat.
The house is eerily silent, and it feels strange to have the place to myself. No banter or teasing, no one calling me into the next room for some ridiculous reason. Just me, the water, and the occasional soft creak of the pipes.
I grab my book from the bath tray—something light and romantic, a guilty pleasure—and settle into the stillness. I let the words wash over me, but my mind drifts to the meeting with the dean. I can still feel the weight of it on my shoulders—being the only girl on the lacrosse team isn’t just pressure; it’s a spotlight, and not always the kind I want.
Once the bath water cools, I reluctantly step out, drying off and slipping into my favorite oversized t-shirt. My bed feels way too big without the guys, but I burrow under the covers anyway, letting the book rest open on my chest. I try to read, but sleep pulls me under before I know it.
The scent of bacon hits me the second I open my eyes, cutting through the haze of sleep. I stretch, groaning as my joints pop, and shuffle out of bed.
In the kitchen, Matthew and Jacob are working in perfect tandem—Matthew at the stove flipping bacon, and Jacob beside him whisking eggs like a pro. They glance up as I enter, their smiles easy and familiar.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Matthew greets, flashing that grin that always makes me warm inside.
“Where’s Ford?” I ask, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
Jacob snickers. “Still out in the yard.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course he is.”
“Don’t bother waking him—he’ll come in eventually,” Matthew adds, though he’s grinning like he knows I’ll do it anyway.
Ignoring them, I head toward the backyard, sliding the door open. Ford is right where I left him, snuggled under the blanket, looking completely content.
