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Beck’s blond eyebrows knit together as he assesses me. Testing my sincerity, maybe. “No one else ran over there.”
“Assholes,” I toss back, lumping him in with the group.
Where was his protectiveness when Sophia was lying on the ground? Yeah, there were plenty of other people around, helping her. Wasn’t good enough for me. It shouldn’t have been good enough for her brother.
He studies me, a flash of surprise working its way across his face. I’m not sure when he’ll stop underestimating me, but I hope it’ll be sometime soon. The rest of this club reveres him. He’s losing more of my respect each second this conversation goes on.
I should have anticipated me running over to Sophia earlier would attract attention. Just like I probably paid her too much attention at dinner last night. But neither is a crime, and I’m sick of always being judged first.
“I mean it, Aster,” he tells me. “Stay away.”
Even before this conversation took place, I could have easily guessed Beck would take offense to any guy when his little sister is involved.
A part of me admires it. I’d go to war for Tripp. And I want Sophia to have family members who look out for her. But I haven’t fucking done anything—this time. I’m not the villain.
“Is Sophia okay?” I ask.
She said she was. She walked off the field fine. But Sophia is also the sort of stubborn that would do those things even if she was seriously injured.
Beck’s blue eyes narrow, like he has some idea of why I care so much.
I understand why he’s warning me away. Respect it even. If I had a sister, I wouldn’t want her anywhere near a guy like me. All of my mistakes and my antics are part of the public record. They’re splashed across magazines and newspapers, published online and discussed on social media. There’s no disputing my reputation, and most of me agrees with Beck that it should stay far away from Sophia.
I still need to know she’s all right.
“She’s fine. She’s also a kid. I mean it. Stay away, Aster, unless you want to be on a plane back to the States.”
My jaw tightens to the point it might pop. I know what he’s doing. He might as well be holding up a photo of Sophia and writing off-limits on it with a Sharpie. A younger version of me might have seen it as a challenge. Might have gone after her just to prove I could.
“I already said I would stay away from your adult sister, who I talked to during a dinner that you had invited me to. We’re done here, Captain.”
Beck stares at me for a minute longer, visibly annoyed by my mocking use of his title.
It’s a reminder, more than anything. His appointed role on the team gives him the right to critique my decisions on the field. Not off of it. At least not out loud in the locker room for all the guys to hear. He’s crossing a line, and he knows it.
“She’s fine,” he finally says. “Team doctor cleared her. I’m going over to her place to check on her.”
Guess he’s still miffed about my assholes comment, if he’s bothering to tell me that.
“Good,” I say.
Beck still looks irritated when he walks away. There’s an excellent chance I might have just destroyed any goodwill he had toward me. Any chance of Beck going to bat for me about starting. Any cohesion on the pitch about fitting in better with the team. Right now, I don’t care.
It seems like my sprinting across the field to check on Sophia is something he should be thanking me for.
I didn’t do it for him, though. I saw her get hit, and I ran without thinking about it or deciding to. It was a reflex, the same way I always react on the field.
I don’t regret it either. I wouldn’t have been able to play the rest of the game, wondering how badly she was injured.
Otto approaches his locker next to mine a few minutes later. He claps my shoulder as I sit down on the bench and unlace my cleats.
“Good goal today, Aster.”
I nod. “Thanks.”
Maybe it’ll be enough for the guys to stop looking at me as some marriage-destroying wild card. To finally thaw some of the frostiness from guys other than Otto, Fritz, and Olivier. Beck talks to me too, I guess, but I’m usually wishing he wasn’t.
“Don’t follow it up with any wrong plays,” Otto cautions.
