Page 29 of Sweet Redemption

I stare down at the manilla folder like it’s going to bite me.

Teagan and I are the same age. We graduated from college at the same time. Our dads are brothers. But that’s where the similarity ends. I became a professional soccer player. She came to work for the Revolution. She spent the past six years learning the ropes. She’s worked in every department, seeing how the organization works from the ground up. Working her way up to her current position as team manager.

She’s basically Dad’s go-to girl.

She’s who he wishes I was.

She’s who he should be training to take over the team.

Not me.

Soccer bonded her younger sister Aurora and me. Teags and I have never had that kind of relationship. I love her. But we’ve never been as close as some of my other cousins, so seeing her every day since I came to work for the Revolution has been . . . different.

“Do I want to know why not?” I ask before flipping the folder open and skimming the résumé sitting on top of the pile.

“If you have to ask, you don’t know your dad.” With two hands planted on her slim hips, sharp eyes, not quite green but not quite blue, narrow like I’ve asked the dumbest question she’s heard today. Unfortunately for me, she’s probably not wrong. “He doesn’t want you to leave, Serena.”

I close the folder and run my hand over it. “Yeah . . . I know.”

“Some people would do anything for this job.” Annoyance clings to her unusually icy tone. “And you’re throwing it away.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” I snap, tired of defending myself. To her. To Mom. To Dad. Everyone thinks I should be grateful for the opportunity instead of wanting to figure out what I want to do instead.

“Is it?” she pushes the way only family can and basically cements my thinking.

“Knock, knock.” Rafe smiles from the doorway, a tight blue New Jersey Nobles hockey tee clinging to his broad chest as my assistant moves around him, her lips pressed together, clearly flustered.

“Sorry, Serena. This gentleman⁠—”

Rafe’s eyebrows shoot up. “Not sure she considers me a gentleman.”

I drop my head to my hands.

He is a gentleman, whether he wants to admit it or not.

“It’s okay, Robin. Thank you,” I tell the older woman, who’s worked in this office for half my life. “Mr. Langley is a friend.” I add extra emphasis on the word friend. The last thing I need is Rafe getting any ideas. I’m not sure I could handle screwing anything else up.

With a smug smile, the giant of a man pushes into my office.

“A friend?” Teagan questions, staring directly at the Revolution’s rival’s logo on Rafe’s tee. When your teams are basically across a bridge from each other, a rivalry is expected. But our two teams have taken that to a whole other level over the years. “I wasn’t aware you were friends with any Nobles.”

“Yeah . . .” I stand, unwilling to tell her exactly how I met Rafe. At least not yet. When Olivia’s ready, that can be her story to tell. “It’s a newer friendship.”

Not a complete lie. Not the complete truth. That’ll work for now.

“You ready for lunch?” Rafe asks, looking between Teagan and me. “You could bring your⁠—”

“Who’s going to lunch?” another distinctively masculine voice asks from the door.

What the hell? When did my office turn into Grand Central Station?

Oh God . . . And why are Leo and Hendrix Sinclair standing just outside?

Forget Grand Central Station. When exactly did my day go off the rails?

“Not you, Leo.” Teagan turns her nose up at the middle Sinclair brother.

“Aww, Teagie . . . You still pissed I’m off the market?” he teases as I make the mistake of looking at Hendrix.