Quarterback Sneak (Red Zone Rivals #3)(43)

As tired as I was, part of me was excited to go out with the team. I hadn’t had the chance, other than the one party at the Pit, and that had been a different vibe. That was a high-stress, let’s blow off steam kind of night.

This was a celebratory one.

My dad’s warning flashed briefly in my mind as I applied a little bit of makeup, but I quieted it, knowing that I felt in full control of myself tonight.

Plus, we were in a new city, and with everything that had been tangling up my thoughts lately, I had a feeling even with the weight of a long day bearing down on me, I wouldn’t find sleep easy.

And maybe, maybe, a small part of me wanted to see Holden.





“You look like you’re about to crawl out of your own skin,” Riley said in the Uber on the way to the bar.

I blinked, turning from where I’d been watching the city lights blur past. “I kind of feel like I already have,” I admitted.

Giana frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… I’m not feeling like myself lately.”

“In what way?” Riley probed.

I considered, trying to figure out how to explain it without sounding like a crazy person. “I just… I’ve been feeling… weird lately.”

“Like sad?” Giana asked.

“No.”

“Angry, disheveled?” Riley chimed in.

“No… the opposite, actually. I’m used to feeling depressed. But this… I don’t know.” I picked at my thumbnail. “I feel kind of… excited? But also, a little freaked out. Anxious, maybe?”

Giana grinned then, leaning into my shoulder. “Ah, football season does that to all of us.”

I forced a smile. “Yeah. Football.”

Riley arched a brow, her gaze zeroing in on me like she saw something Giana didn’t. But she didn’t have time to ask because our car pulled up, and Zeke ripped open the back door before hauling Riley out on his shoulder like a sack of flour.

“Put me down, you Neanderthal!”

He just laughed and carried her inside the bar as Clay did the same to Giana, although she didn’t protest, just grabbed for the back of her skirt to make sure she wasn’t flashing anyone her ass. Clay seemed to read her mind because he covered it with one of his gargantuan hands, which made Giana smile and kiss his forehead as he carried her inside.

“You want a ride like that, too?”

I froze at the sound of his voice, but managed to turn slow and calm, like I wasn’t affected at all. “Do you want a knee to the groin?”

Holden chuckled, his eyes a bit glossed as he tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He still wore his NBU hoodie, but something about those jeans had me even more dizzy than the joggers had this morning.

He watched me for a moment, rolling his lips together like he wanted to say something else. Instead, he gestured with one hand toward the bar, and I led the way.

Loud house music thumped through the walls even before Holden jogged around in front of me to open the door. I was tempted to roll my eyes at the move, but it would have been a betrayal to the soft spot inside me that actually found it sweet.

We were carded at the entrance, and once we were inside, I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the team that had completely taken over the place. It was just a dive bar close to the South Hartford University campus, but it was covered in our colors, from the pool tables and dart boards in the back to the throbbing dance floor.

“Julep!”

I turned to find Giana waving me over to a table near the dance floor where she, Riley, Zeke, and Clay all were. Leo was there, too, along with a cheerleader I recognized but didn’t know personally.

I felt Holden following behind me, felt the humming buzz of his nearness just as loud as the music vibrating through my bones. When we made it to the table, though, he moved to the other side, socking Leo on the arm as Clay handed him a beer.

I tore my gaze away from him, focusing on Giana who had just slid me a pink, fruity-looking shot. I didn’t even know if shot was the right word, considering it was a big enough glass to be a cocktail.

I groaned. “Oh, God.”

“It’s just one,” she said sweetly.

Riley gave me a look that said don’t believe her.

I stared at the shot warily. I knew I’d be fine with just one, maybe a drink or two after. But I also knew I had to cut it off after that. Otherwise, my light, happy buzz would go south, tipping me over the line that thinly separated that kind of drunk and the kind that had me making bad decisions.

The kind I’d made for too long after Abby died, that had nearly driven my father to his breaking point.

Not that Mom had been particularly thrilled, either, but she’d long since given up on me. When I acted out, when I ended up in the back of a police car in front of their house or vomiting in their guest bathroom or doing the walk of shame from a guy’s house whose name I couldn’t even recall — she didn’t get upset the way Dad did. She’d just let out a spurt of a laugh, shake her head, and go back to drinking her chardonnay like she was better than me.

She blamed me for Abby, and I couldn’t even hold it against her.

Because I blamed me, too.

“To the team,” Giana said, holding up her shot. “And to the championship title that’s yours for the taking.”