“I said put me down.”
“Grab his feet,” Tucker called over his shoulder.
Grayson and Landon moved in without hesitation. Each of them caught one of my legs just above the ankles, and lifted until my body stretched out between them like some kind of ridiculous parade banner.
“Are you kidding me right now?”
Cash laughed against my shoulder. “Dead serious.”
The four of them crossed the lot in a kind of stumbling sprint, while I struggled against their grip.
“This isn’t funny.”
“It’s a little funny,” Landon said.
My legs jerked against Grayson’s hold, but his grip was a vice. I wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.
Tucker glanced down at me. “I see you’ve been wasting your time in the gym, Center. My kid sister has more upper body strength than you.”
“You don’t have a kid sister.”
“But if I did,” he said with an evil laugh, “she’d have more upper body strength than you do.”
Hunter’s truck waited a few yards away now, engine idling while the headlights lit the strip of road in front of us. He leaned across the cab and shoved the passenger door open.
“About time,” he called. “Thought you guys were gonna let him get away.”
“Believe me, I tried,” I muttered.
They carried me straight to the tailgate, and tossed me onto the bed of the truck. My bag bounced beside me while the rest of them piled in before I could swing my legs over the side. Cash dropped down on my right, Tucker landed on my left, and they both hooked their arms through mine to keep me in place. Landon climbed in near the tailgate, and Grayson shut it behind us before running to jump in next to Hunter up front. It all happened so fast, there was no time to devise an escape let alone execute it.
Bodies boxed me in from every direction.
“You guys are insane.”
“You’re probably right,” Tucker said.
Hunter slammed the truck into gear, and the tires screeched across the lot as it shot onto the open road. Wind rushed throughthe windows of the cab while the guys shouted victory loud enough for everyone to hear.
Meanwhile, I sat wedged between them with my gym bag pressed against my knee, watching the arena lights fade behind us.
Somewhere between Tucker arguing with Cash about which table he was claiming first, and Landon pounding on the back of the cab to make Hunter drive faster, the tension that had followed me all day cracked open.
A laugh pushed out of me before I could stop it, and Tucker elbowed my side.
“There it is.”
“Shut up,” I said, and let my shoulders drop.
18
Sage
Ramona slammed into the opening riff while a fresh beer floated across the bar toward me. Icy Veins was playing a packed venue but by the looks of it, I was the only one in the downtown bar who cared. Every so often, the bartender would look over to the stage with mild interest, but I was almost a hundred percent sure that had more to do with Ramona’s tiny schoolgirl wraparound skirt than the particularly grating melody ofYou’re the Reason I Drink Alone.
Foam crept down the side of the glass and pooled against my fingers. It wasn’t lost on me how painfully fitting the lyrics of that song were at this point in time. As much as I would’ve liked to deny it—as hard as I’d fought Ramona in that arena—here I was. Drinking alone. And the reason for that was six-feet tall and covered in ink.
“Bullshit. That hit the wire.” Two men near the dartboard argued about a score card, their voices rising over the music.
