Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
The corridor fills with players from both teams, and I realize our family drama is now out in the open. Everyone and their brother is in the damn hallway now. Guys from both teams. Trainers. Random game staff. Even a couple of security guards who look like they’d rather eat thumbtacks than referee this fight. Shit. If this circus makes it onto social media, every sports show on the continent is going to have a field day.
Ryan opens his mouth again, but my girl is faster. “Say one more word, and I’ll punch you in the face.” She’s got her finger poked into his chest, fire in her eyes. I swear to God, Harper should come with a warning label: Do Light the Fuse.
Ryan actually backs down. Just a fraction, but I see it. The big enforcer, terrified of his pint-sized sister. Honestly? It warms my heart.
“Jaxson’s part of my life now. Deal with it,” Harper says, voice cold enough to freeze the pipes in the whole damn arena. “You get one warning. That’s it. Next time you even think about laying a hand on him, I’ll kick your ass.” She’s not bluffing. Never seen her this pissed. It’s honestly a little terrifying.
Ryan looks like he’s about to blow an artery in his neck. He stares at me, then at Harper. Then mutters, “You’re embarrassing me in front of the guys.” All the rage, the bravado, the rivalry—it drains right out of him. Like he finally sees the truth.
“Damn, Caveman, your sister is ready to kick your ass,” One of his teammates calls out.
“Yeah, man.” Mick walks by, shaking his head. “That shit is downright embarrassing.”
“Fuck off and mind your own business,” I tell my captain, shocking all the fuckers in the corridor. I know. I just came to my biggest rival’s defense. It’s crazy what the love of a good woman does to you.
“I don’t fucking need your help,” Coleman growls and takes another step toward me.
“Not this again,” Harper growls, stepping back between us. She turns and points at me. “Stop defending my brother.” Then she spins around to Coleman. “And you stop being such a whiney brat.” She isn’t done. Not even close. “When you’re ready to talk like an actual adult, you can call me. Until then, stay out of my life.”
My girl is a savage. Hell, I love her.
Ryan opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. That’s what I call victory. He looks like a pissed-off toddler about to throw a tantrum.
Harper straightens her jersey, brushes imaginary lint off her sleeve, then turns to me like nothing just happened. “I’ll wait for you by the exit. Don’t keep me waiting.” There’s steel in her eyes—and yeah, fuck, that smile turns my cock rock hard.
I don’t say a word. I just follow her down the tunnel, past the entire peanut gallery of players and staff. My fists are clenched, and my face is throbbing from where Ryan clocked me, but all I feel is pride. And love.
Behind us, Ryan stands glued to the spot, watching with a look on his face like he can’t believe what just happened. Honestly, I’m shocked, too. I never expected to have someone like Harper take my side, not against the world, and definitely not against her brother.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
HARPER
The morning sun is doing something obnoxious through the blinds and, for a hot second, I have absolutely no idea where I am. Then it hits me that I’m in my own bed. Okay. Right. But the other side is empty, the sheets cool, and my stomach does this stupid little drop before I can stop it. Where is he?
The front door opens, then Jaxson strolls in with a white paper bag and a cup of coffee from my favorite bakery.
“Morning, firecracker,” he rumbles, blue eyes locked on me. “Figured you’d need reinforcements to face the day.” He flashes the bag from The Scone Hut. “I got the last blueberry scone. And a double shot espresso. Extra whip.”
My mouth is already watering just thinking about the pastry, and my fingers are twitching for the coffee before I can even thank him. “You truly are perfect,” I groan as I take the cup, inhaling the sweet, creamy goodness like it’s oxygen. “Thank you so much.”
“Anything for you.” He leans over and places a soft kiss on my lips.
My phone suddenly vibrates, interrupting the moment. The caller ID shows Ryan’s face—a photo from two years ago where he’s grinning, a smear of eye black on his cheek. It’s not a text. It’s a FaceTime request. Darn. My brother’s timing sucks.
“I’ll go for my run and let you talk to him. Message me if you need something.” Jaxson kisses my forehead and slips out of the apartment as I head to my bedroom and swipe to accept the video call, my heart performing a frantic, uneven rhythm against my ribs. Ryan’s face fills the screen. He’s sitting in what looks like a darkened hotel room, the only light coming from a single lamp behind him.