Page 93

Dark chocolate isn’t my favorite, but it will do. I set the bar down while I check my phone, sitting in my stall.

There’s a message waiting.

Baby Becks: You looked tired in the third.

I stare at it. Then type.

Me: Wow. Thanks.

Baby Becks: You’re welcome.

Me: Anything else, Coach?

Baby Becks: Actually, yes.

Baby Becks: That pass in the second was pretty.

I grin before I can stop myself.

Me: Pretty?

Baby Becks: Don’t make it weird.

Me: You called me pretty.

Baby Becks: I called the PASS pretty.

Me: Too late. Already told everyone.

“Why are you smiling at your phone?”

I look up.

Mercer is standing in front of me.

“Do you people have nothing better to do?”

“Nope.” He takes a drink from his bottle. “Let me guess, Beckett’s sister?”

I don’t answer.

“Knew it.”

“You don’t know shit.”

“I know you’ve spent half this trip staring at your phone.”

Damn… how does he know that? He was asleep for most of the flight and on his phone when he was awake. I call bullshit.

“I think you have lost your mind.”

“Or maybe, just maybe, you have.” Mercer's lips twitch.

Screw him.

“She’s my best friend’s little sister.”

“So, you keep reminding us.” Mercer leans down so we are eye to eye and whispers. “Or maybe… reminding yourself.”