“Well, he’s a dick, so I wouldn’t worry about him.”
Bex shakes her head. “I have to play nice with all of them. You never know when you’ll need their help.”
“Put him in his place. Maybe make him cry to bring him down a peg or two.”
“You think I can?” There’s a sparkle in Bex’s eyes now.
“I’ve seen you bring grown men to their knees.”
Her gaze is careful, calculated, as it brushes over me. “And by grown men, you mean you?”
“You can bring me to my knees anytime, Bex.”
The plane dips as it hits turbulence. Instead of leveling out, it continues shaking. Great. Just what I wanted right now.
The intercom crackles to life. “It looks like we’ve hit a pocket of turbulence. We’re going to try and find some smoother air, but until then, I’m turning on the seatbelt sign, and I want everyone to remain seated until we make our way through this.”
A few groans echo around the cabin, likely because they were woken up.
Bex grimaces as she stands. “I should probably head back to my seat.”
“Okay.”
I don’t want her to go, but I know she can’t stay.
Text meshe mouths to me.
I only nod as I watch her find her seat. I would do whatever she asks of me. Because that’s how far gone I am for this woman.
The GM of my team.
A woman who is more than a decade older than I am.
All of that is background noise. Because it pales in comparison to how she makes me feel.
Which is, for the first time in my life, alive.
Chapter Sixteen
NICK
“Look who finally decided to show up.” Dad’s voice rings out over the couch as I close the front door to my childhood home.
“I don’t make the schedule, Dad,” I tell him, toeing off my shoes in the entryway.
The house is exactly the same as when we were kids. The walls might be a new shade of gray, photos changed out with ones of our growing family, and the sofa replaced with a newer, less flattened model, but it’s the same cozy house I grew up in.
Walking into the living room that opens up to the kitchen, I see Pops is there watching over a pot of something that permeates the house.
It smells incredible.
“Thanks for finally making time for your dads,” he calls out.
Dad pulls me in for a one-armed hug before unmuting the nightly sports broadcast.
“Again, I don’t make the schedule.”
“You barely called us while you were gone,” Dad says. “It’s like you’ve forgotten about us entirely.”
