Princesa: Great game, flyboy. You shoulda hit him [winky emoji]
Penelope: She barely ate. You might have more luck. I’m worried about her, Apollo. She’s fading into obscurity, and I can’t figure out how to pull her back.
“What’s wrong with your face?” Ares toes my skate with his own as he walks past me.
Dropping my phone back into my bag with a grunt, I shake my head.
“Ay, hermano. ¿Qué lo que?”He glances over to Artemis who flanks my other side, probably protecting me from the questioning eyes of the team. Or them from me.
“Edith’s struggling.”
Ares nods. “Do you want my pig?”
Scott snorts behind Artemis, choking on water. Adolescent.
“What good would Bacon do?”
Ares clicks his tongue like I’m un idiota. “You’ve heard of emotional support animals, right? Bacon makes for a very good cuddle buddy. He could cheer her up.”
It’s a sweet offer, but right now I’m not sure whether Edith would cuddle the pig or cook him. Though I guess maybe I should find out.
CHAPTER12
Edith
“Princesa, I’m hooooome!” Apollo steps into the apartment with a dramatic flourish, a grin on his face, pizza box in one hand and... Leash in the other? What the hell?
“You went to play a hockey game and brought me back a pig?” I pause mid-crunch on the floor.
Bacon the team mascot has a green and black tutu around his waist, he’s got oversized diamanté studded shades covering his face as he walks toward me with more swagger than the three de la Peña boys combined.
Gotta admit, he’s kind of cute.
The pig too.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
That didn’t take long.
“Crunches, Apollo. I’ve seen your abs, you do them often enough to recognize what they are.” Ugh. The snark is out of my mouth before I can stop it. It’s happening a lot lately, and I’m not a fan. I don’t mean to be such a salty bitch but everything’s so fucking hard.
“You’re pushing yourself is what you’re doing.Mierda, Edie. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
Sitting up with a grunt, I scowl at him. “I’m being careful, Pollo. Scout’s honor.”
“You were never a Scout.” He wags a finger at me while he ditches the pizza on the table and unclips Bacon, who toddles over to me for scratches and sniffs.
“I can take care of myself you know.” I gesture at my injuries. “I’m not a complete invalid.”
At his hard stare, I continue. “It’s not like I’m doing pushups, or jumping jacks, or even walking. It’s only a few crunches.”
When he squats next to me, dropping to his knees, then butt, so we’re sitting butt to butt. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s awkward. I attempt to retreat. I’m soaked with sweat, and I stink. Sure, I’m taking it easy, but it’s not really easy when your body is focused on healing injuries. Every minor exertion leaves me drained and doused in sweat.
The tenderness and care in his eyes steals my breath away, and my eyes fill with tears. “Why won’t you just leave me alone, Pollo? I’m fine.”
His fingers skim my jaw, sending shivers skating across my skin. He threads his hand underneath my messy bun, and the electricity hanging in the air intensifies. It was never like this before, the air never got thick with anticipation and need when he was this close. But he’s also rarely been this close to me.
Dropping his forehead to mine, he sighs. Bacon nudges my hand because I’ve stopped giving him scratches. He grunts and wanders off. Apparently he needs more excitement than watching Apollo hold me captive with those eyes.
