Quarterback Sneak (Red Zone Rivals #3)(24)

I surged toward him, ready to plow his fucking teeth in — shoulder be damned. But Zeke and Clay both caught me and shoved me back, which only made Kyle laugh like he’d already won. He winked at me before dropping his shorts and sauntering toward the shower, letting his dick swing the whole way.

“Get off me,” I growled, shoving my friends away before I kicked my cleats toward my locker and reached in for my shirt, tugging it on a bit too quickly. My shoulder stung, but I ignored it.

Leo squeezed my healthy shoulder, he and the other two hovering behind me as I tried to school my breaths.

“Coach’s daughter,” he said, so low only the four of us could hear it.

“I know,” I bit back.

“Then fucking act like it,” Zeke added, and I turned to face him, to face all three of them, ready to fight like an animal backed into a corner.

But when I met their gazes, I saw nothing but the concern of my brothers, my friends who loved me like family.

They could see right through me, my walls nothing but glass to them.

I let out a long breath, my head falling back against the locker before I shook it. “Yeah, no. I’m fine. Just… tired.”

It was a sorry excuse, one I knew didn’t fool any of them as they exchanged looks. But they nodded, and Leo squeezed my shoulder once more before releasing me.

“We’ll blow off some steam tonight,” he assured me. “Pong. You’re on my team.”

I nodded, though I knew no amount of beer could make me not act like an absolute psycho when I heard someone talk that way about Julep — especially a scumbag like Kyle Robbins. He was the worst of the worst, the kind of guy you hated as a human but depended on as a player. He was the best tight end in our division, which meant we were lucky to have him. But he was also a disrespectful misogynist who cared more about how much money he could make from a shoe deal than whether our team won the championship or not.

I didn’t want him so much as looking at Julep, let alone thinking about touching her.

The problem was that I had no right to feel that way, or act that way.

I was losing my damn mind over a girl I should have been staying far, far away from.

“Hit the shower,” Clay said to me, and he gave me a look that said he’d be talking to me later, that he saw right through the bullshit.

They all did.

Which meant I had better get my act together before Coach Lee started to notice, too.





Julep



God, if you really exist, please strike me with a lightning bolt at this very moment and end it all.

The thought was only half a joke as I pushed pasta around on my plate listening to my father tell Mary stories about me as a kid. Of course, Mary leaned into every word, smiling and laughing and egging him on with questions in-between throwing me winks across the table.

Traitor.

I was happy she was winning him over — first with inviting him to dinner, then with cooking said dinner, and now by laughing at his stupid jokes and acting like she was interested in his boring football talk. When he’d first seen her on move-in day, piercings and tattoos and leather-clad, I knew he’d been worried. So, this dinner, her softening his suspicion — it was a good thing.

I just wished it wasn’t at my expense.

And I wished my father wasn’t pretending we had some glorious relationship when the truth was that we barely knew each other at all.

“Wait,” Mary said, chuckling as she wiped her mouth with her napkin before folding it in her lap again. “You’re telling me that Julep, the Julep sitting at this table with us, used to tie bows in her hair?”

“Every day,” Dad said, beaming. “She’d match it to whatever she wore that day, and she had a special one for game day. Bright blue and orange like her uniform.”

“I still can’t believe you were a cheerleader,” Mary said, snickering.

“Trust me, it wasn’t by choice,” I grumbled.

“You loved it,” Dad teased.

“No, Abby loved it,” I corrected, meeting his eyes. “I just did it for the boys.”

Dad’s mouth thinned into a flat line, and an awkward silence fell over the table as he reached for his wine and took a sip.

My gaze stayed fixed on him, as if this time might be different from every other time I brought her up. I wanted so desperately for him to admit it. To say, “Ah, that’s right. It was Abby who loved cheerleading, wasn’t it? Didn’t she used to cheer the birthday song to you every year?” And I could laugh and say, “She sure did, even when we were teenagers.”

Then, we’d both laugh — even if that laughter was underlined with sorrow. But we could remember her, share the memory of her, and keep her alive in even that small way.

Instead, he stayed silent, and I grew more resentful.

Mary gave me a look like what the hell was that?

I only looked down at my plate, counting down the minutes for this dinner to be over.

To anyone on the outside of this dinner, it would seem I was being a brat. And I guess in many ways, I was. But I felt that lingering gaze from my father all the time. It wasn’t as bad as Mom’s, who barely wanted to see me at all anymore, but I still felt it.

It was the sadness, the worry, the fear of what my life was, and even more so of what it would become.