Page 10
And the year after that.
Unless she stops working for my mother, or finds a new family or new partner, and starts joining them for the holidays. I clench my jaw at the thought of Sage with another family.
With another man.
“Bro! Come downstairs, it’s game time!” Reese’s booming voice makes me jump and bite my tongue.
“Motherfucker.” A coppery taste fills my mouth and I fight off a gag. A pounding knock on my office door precedes my brother’s annoying voice. “I want to show Sage how bad you are at air hockey. Let’s goooo.”
Thinking of air hockey reminds me of last night—like I’ve stopped thinking about last night—and my blood heats in my veins. I do my best to shake the thoughts out of my head.
It’s my family holiday week. I’m not going to let a red-headed vixen with a perfect body ruin some of my most precious time with my family. It’s the one time a year I actually take time off from my miserable job of trying to do the right thing and keep my business partners from doing more damage.
“Just promise you won’t cry when I kick your ass this time.”
Reese barks out a laugh that echoes through the hallway. I get up to follow him down the two sets of stairs to the game room. Sage and Mars are already downstairs, chatting about nothing serious.
“Sybil and Mom took the kids out to the play at the playground down the block.” Mars updates me on the unusual quiet of the rest of the house. “That means you can curse as loud as you want when you get your ass kicked.” Reese shoots Sage a wink and she huffs out a small laugh that ticks me off but I just roll my shoulders, loosening my shoulders up to prepare for the games.
“Come on. If we’re doing this, we need to get it done before the kids get back. I don’t want them to see their dad and Uncle Reese cry with how hard I whooped them.” This causes Sage to release a full giggle and I feel it vibrate in my chest, causing it to puff out pride. With a slight pep in my step, I turn my focus on destroying my brothers.
Sweat makes my shirt stick to my back, my muscles ache as I fight to keep the puck out of my area. Reese is frowning at me, but is still meeting me strike for strike. Mars gave up a round or two ago and Sage had confidently stated she has “no proper hand eye coordination” and didn’t need to injure herself while on vacation, declaring she would be a referee as needed.
Right now, we’re tied with two games each and it’s almost lunch time. We've agreed this is the last game. I know I’m being immature about this, no one in the history of ever has won over a girl with air hockey.
Not that I'm trying to win over a girl. Sage is one hundred percent woman. And I’m not trying to win her over, I’m just trying to stop Reese from winning her over.
“We should just head upstairs and start lunch, they’ll be at this forever.” Mars’ words barely register as I deflect yet another shot aimed at my goal.
“No, don’t go. I made a bet with Sage, she’s going to let me take her out if I win.” Reese’s voice is taunting and annoyance flares in my gut.
“I never agreed to that,” Sage disagrees with a surprised laugh.
The flare turns into an inferno and I hit the puck too aggressively. It feels like time slows down as the puck jumps off the table, ricocheting into a spectacular arc and slamming into Sage’s nose.
8
SAGE
Reese has been a good distraction from everything that happened yesterday. I’m convinced that the ‘emails’ York had to address was just an excuse to get away so he can draft up a severance letter for me. Out of sight out of mind, thankfully, I’ve been able to keep my mind from spiraling too much. My spiraling has become more like a zoodle rather than the tornado that was plaguing me when I woke up.
I think Bea could tell I was anxious and somehow got some type of message to Reese to focus on distracting me. He’s a little overly flirty but it’s fine. I don’t mind flirting back but I know it can’t go anywhere. Reese is Bea’s son in every sense of the word. His teasing attitude, his dirty blonde hair and sparkly hazel eyes.
One hundred percent Beatrice Snyder.
He’s definitely a cutie but the similarities to Bea are a little too much for more than a little back and forth suggestive teasing. I fear I’d have one of those fever dream moments where I’d go to kiss him and his face would get all fuzzy and transform into Bea’s and I just could not handle something like that happening.
Not that I’d ever want to get with one of Bea’s kids. Absolutely not.
When Mars and Reese suggested air hockey while Bea and Sybil took the kids to a park, I volunteered to join them at the park, but was told that it was fine and just relax here with the boys. I felt like I was going to catch on fire from how hot my cheeks got. My reaction was noticeable, Reese raising an eyebrow at me until I agreed to join but refused to play. That earned a laugh from Mars, and a fist bump from Reese before he ran upstairs to get York. It was hard to keep the amusement on my face as he ran away but I wouldn’t be able to explain why I’d suddenly changed my mind.
Watching them play was entertaining until Reese’s comment about taking me out. I can’t help the laugh of incredulity that escapes at his ridiculousness. “I never agreed to that.” I start to turn to ask Mars if this is normal competitiveness between the brothers but I never get that far.
Red coming at me in my peripherals distracts me and then white hot pain at the bridge of my nose is all I can focus on. My hands fly to my face to protect from further attack and tears immediately start to fall from eyes in two tiny rivers.
I can hear the brothers speaking around me but nothing is making sense and all I can do is keep my hands pressed against the center of pain. Warm hands encircle my wrists and I’m finally able to center myself, if only slightly. A gentle tug pulls my hands away from my face and all I can see is that my fingers are covered in red.
“Oh shit.” Mars’ voice makes it through the pounding in my ears, a small whine escapes my lips and I bring my hands back up to my face, pressing against the broken skin.
