I look behind him and see Presley checking on a receiver with a leg cramp.
Aston looks over his shoulder. “Doc wish you a happy birthday yet?”
I don’t look at him. “Huh?”
He snorts. “Happy birthday from Presley?”
I don’t answer.
“Oh … she did. Look at your face.” He leans in. “Is that a smile?”
“Yeah, because I’m thinking about knocking you out, and that brings me joy.” I smile widely.
“Ha! Best friends, my ass.”
I elbow him hard enough to make him grunt, even through his pads.
Presley and I don’t flaunt our friendship, and we do try to keep our interactions at work professional, but anyone who knows us, including her family, knows we’ve been friends for years. And Griff has slithered his way into our circle. Like a gnat you can’t get rid of.
We won, not that it matters in the big picture, but it does show our coaches what we need to work on before regular season games start.
After the game, I change into jeans and a lightweight button-down shirt. Presley left in her sister’s car before me, and the guys are ready. Liam and Brody ride with me downtown to meet the girls for dinner. Aston is following behind.
Presley made all the plans, which means wherever we are going will be private but also casual enough for us to relax.
When we get there, I see her standing near the hostess stand in black jeans and a soft blue top that brings out her eyes. Her hair is down and tucked behind one ear. She sees me and smiles like she’s been waiting for me.
My chest tightens.
“Birthday boy,” she says. “Took you long enough.”
“Doc.”
“You look good, Saint. You clean up well.”
“Why do you sound surprised? You’ve seen me in suits.”
Her head falls back in a laugh. “I’m just surprised when you wear real buttons.”
I look down at my shirt. “Very funny.”
Brody claps his hands on my shoulders from behind and breaks the moment. “Better get this guy in a chair before his knee gives out.”
I close my eyes. “I hate you, Vaughn.”
“You couldn’t hate anyone, Wyatt St. Clair,” Alie says, standing beside Presley. “You love us.”
Liam walks up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, then kisses her neck. I’m so glad these two have worked out their relationship. They have an adorable daughter together, and it was a little rough going at first.
“Took care of the valet for you, buddy,” he says, looking at me.
Aston arrives last, wearing a t-shirt with one of my team photos of just my face, from my college years, printed across the front.
I just stare at it, while everyone else laughs.
He beams and runs his hand over it. “Custom, baby.”
“That’s from your sophomore year,” Presley says.
