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Twenty-Two
Brit
I left my husband with his girlfriend in my kitchen.
Yup, even I know how fucked up that particular scene was.
But I set it aside, breathe against the vise-like grip that thought threatens to have over my insides, and focus on the one thing I can control at the moment.
My warm-up.
I’m starting—thank fuck—because sitting on the bench watching the game develop around me, the guys all part of it and me on the sidelines doing shit all?
Equally as much torture as that scene in the kitchen when I left.
Tiffany is great.
And I want to hate her.
Unfortunately for my heart and soul and the state of Roxie’s freshly manicured nails, I can’t.
“Brit—”
I look up from the bike, see that my teammate Josh is standing a couple of feet away. He’s holding a protein shake—my preferred one because he’s the captain and knows these things, but also because he’s a good guy who likes to take care of the people he loves (case in point, helping his sister out of a bad relationship…and then not killing Ben, our teammate, when he fell for her).
He’s that good guy and the captain, and I know it’s both of them checking the pulse of my emotions as I slow my legs, draw the exercise bike to a halt, and hold my hand out for the shake.
“Thanks,” I tell him, unscrewing the cap and taking a long glug of it.
His gaze holds mine. “Rox is good?”
“Healing faster than you or I would be, that’s for sure.”
He leans against the handlebars, deep brown eyes studying mine. “I don’t think anything can stop a Plantain girl, that’s for sure.”
“She’s a Barie,” I say softly.
“No”—he nudges my foot with his own—“she’s both.” His mouth turns up. “Which is why I know that Brit fucking Plantain is going to kick ass for us tonight.”
This man.
This team.
This family I’m lucky enough to be part of.
I finish off the shake, screw the cap back on. “Damn right, I am.”
He snags the empty bottle, holds it up for me, lips still curved. But then his face grows serious, and he nudges my foot again. “But?—”
I brace.
“—you’re going to get some sleep right afterward, yeah?”
It’s phrased as a question.
But it’s definitely not one.
An order plain and simple.
