Rush: The Season (Austin Arrows Book 1)(7)

When she turned twelve, her choice of clothing changed drastically. Gone was the young-girl clothes and on to the pieces that were a little more adult. Tighter jeans, tank tops, training bra, that sort of thing. I went with it, trusting my daughter to make the right choices for her. She convinced me to get her hair cut. The long, dark locks disappeared and a short, cute bob took their place.

All of those times, she talked to me, told me what she wanted, asked permission even. So, I guess I’m having a difficult time with the pink hair more so because it came out of the blue and there was no conversation beforehand.

Bianca doesn’t say anything for the rest of the drive. I can tell as soon as I pull into the driveway that she’s preparing to bolt. Before she can leave me in her dust, I stop her with a hand on her arm.

“Hey,” I say, turning to face her. “I don’t mind the pink hair, but I really wish you would’ve asked me first. I think I’ve been pretty lenient, don’t you?”

She shrugs.

“Do I really tell you no that often?”

She shrugs again.

I hate this part. The part where her lips seem to be glued together and I get to do all the talking.

“Talk to me, Bianca. I’ve been pretty lenient, haven’t I?”

Bianca’s gaze slides to her lap. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Next time, I expect you to talk to me first. Okay?”

Bianca nods.

“About anything,” I add. “You can talk to me about anything, kid. I’m your mom and I love you. I’m here for you to talk to.”

There’s a sheen of tears in Bianca’s eyes when she looks back at me. I know she feels guilty, which she should. I didn’t mean for her to, but my heart mends a little because it’s obvious she didn’t want to defy me.

Not too much, anyway.

I give her arm a gentle squeeze. “I love you, kiddo.”

“I love you, too, Mommy.”

And once again, all is right with the world.

At least for today, anyway.





3

Kingston

“Bro, I seriously need a beer,” Spencer grumbles in my ear when I answer the phone.

It’s after seven and I’m sitting at home on my ass, planning to relax for the weekend, knowing Monday’s going to be hell.

“I could go for a beer,” I tell him. “Want to meet me at the Penalty Box, or would you rather stop by here?” It doesn’t really matter to me, although I wasn’t planning to go out again tonight if I didn’t have to.

“I’ll swing by there. Don’t want any prying ears for the shit I need to talk to you about.”

That piques my interest. “Got it. See you in a few.”

Twenty minutes after I hang up with Spencer, he’s walking into my house and he doesn’t even bother to knock. He probably drops by at least once a week, which means he’s as comfortable here as I am. I’m used to it, so I simply grab two beers and meet him in the living room.

As I pass one over, I grin. “Tell me. Are they scratching the whole team and pulling up from the farm?” It’s my attempt at a joke, but it doesn’t seem to work on Spencer, and that’s when I realize he’s seriously worked up.

I knew he was dreading the meeting with Phoenix, but surely it wasn’t that bad. The guy looks like someone ran over his dog. Twice.

When he plants his ass on my couch, I drop to the chair across from him, crossing my ankle over my knee while I study him closely. He’s physically present, but I’m not so sure he’s accounted for. “Talk to me, man. How was the meeting with Phoenix?”

Spencer looks up and meets my gaze. He’s frowning, which isn’t a good sign. “She f*cking works for the Austin Arrows.”

I frown, my beer bottle pressed to my lips, completely lost. I want to say, “Phoenix is a guy, bro,” but I don’t think that’s what Spencer’s referring to. At least I hope not. If so, we’ve got an entirely different issue here.

He clearly sees my dilemma, because he elaborates, “Amber North works for the f*cking Arrows.”

And by elaborate, I mean he keeps rattling on about shit I know nothing about.

“Do I know Amber North?” Based on the way he says her name, I probably should.

“My ex.”

I take a swallow of beer, then chuckle. “You’ll have to be a little more specific. There’re quite a few of those.”

Not that I’ve kept track, but Spencer hasn’t been in a serious relationship in all the time I’ve known him. A couple of months at most, which in my head isn’t serious. I wouldn’t go so far as to call him a man-whore, but he does have a penchant for the bunnies.

Spencer sighs, then leans back, clearly not amused. “I went into Coach’s office this morning, and Phoenix was there waiting for me,” he explains. “I walked in, took a seat where Coach directed me, and the next f*cking thing I know, Mark Coleman walks in.”

I’m still trying to understand where the ex-girlfriend plays into this, but I’m not about to interrupt. Spencer looks like he’s choking on every damn word. I don’t want to hinder his progress.

“I hardly even noticed the guy.”

“That’s kind of hard to do considering he’s what? Six five?”