The redshirt scurried off like the insect he was.
I turned and glared at Sato. “Just because Mick said to keep me out of trouble?—”
“He meant it." The grad student and assistant offensive line coach pointed his finger in my face. "Every damned word.”
Heat rose from my abdomen. "I’m a grown-ass adult and the quarterback for this team.”
“But you’re not the captain.” He lowered his head to look at me.
The fucking nerve of this guy!
“And you ain’t gonna be the captain until you learn humility. The number of times Mick tied my shoes, man." He chuckled and shook his head.
"You've gotta be fucking kidding me. Are you a toddler?"
"You just don't get it." He crossed his arms. "And that's why you ain't captain."
"Certified angel, yeah, right." I huffed.At least they're in an apartment now, instead of that shelter.“No place for a kid to grow up."
I scoffed at my reflection in the glass. My blond hair had fallen from its spiky greatness, like it was too tired. And were those fucking worry lines on my forehead? What's the difference between those and crow's feet? "Ugh. You've turned into an old man, just like Mick. Next thing you know, you'll be gardening like a geezer." I turned away. "Jesus, I'm talking to myself."
A loud knock at the door spiked the adrenaline in my system. I stumbled and caught myself midstride. Took a deep breath and sighed.That didn't take long.I moved across the living room and wrenched open the door to find…
Caden. "What doyouwant?” I turned away and left him to figure out the door.
"Heard you took on your own offensive line today.Wasn't sure if I'd missed the emergency phone call for bail? Or the hospital."
"Like I’d callyou," I grumbled. "Assholes wouldn’t let me throw down with the traitor fucking hacker,” I snarled and sat down on the edge of my bed.
"That was epic-level bullshit." He leaned back against the door. His hair a shade darker than mine, those same reddish-brown eyes stared at me. "Heard some reporter chick caught the guy, then had to prove it to the dean or something.”
“As long as he’s fucking gone.”
Silence sat like a big fat elephant in the middle of the room. Why was he here? He never needed anything from me. Not like when we were kids…
“Beaux, wait up! I want to go too.”
It’d been a long time since those days. "So why's the wunderkid hockey princess darkening my fucking door?"
"Just stopped by to say a big Texas 'howdy' to my pain-in-the-ass big bro."
"Hil. Air. Must've taken too many pucks to the head. You forget I’m fucking dynamite and you’re an ice princess.”
He rolled his eyes. His face was leaner than mine, and he was a good three inches shorter, so he'd always be my "little" brother.
"Mom asked me to give you this." He moved closer, extending a plastic-coated card.
I stood to take it from him.
"Pops wanted you to have it," he said.
I bristled against the pain that flooded my chest. Held up the card in a clear plastic pouch. "A baseball card? This some kind of joke?" I swallowed the aching lump in my throat and pushed away the thought.He's gone.
"Pops collected them, remember?"
"Why the fuck do I want a Buck Posterby rookie card?" I tossed it on top of my desk, keeping the anger close and shoving the pain down.
"Maybe he knew you needed a hobby other than fighting."
