Page 3 of Wild for the Knight

“Of course you do. Insubordinate is exactly your type,” I say flatly. Focusing on my food is becoming harder by the second as her laugh floats through the air. It isn’t forced, but it seems to be coming out at a decibel that’s entirely too loud for her normal laugh. It’s like she’s trying to remind me that she’s here... As if I could forget it.

There’s never been anyone on this planet who gets under my skin the way she does. The way she constantly pushes every button I have like a child in an elevator. The daggers she shoots at me whenever I open my mouth. The way she’s a ray of sunshine to literally everyone but me.

She’s infuriating. I can’t wait for the day some fool falls for her. She’ll have a freaking field day with him. Then, maybe she won’t spend so much time with Hannah and my brother, and I can breathe a bit without her cursing my existence. Or plotting my death. I’m not sure what goes on in her head half the time.

I throw some cash on the bar, down the rest of my water, and head back to my bike. As I pull the keys out of my pocket, I hear, “Hey, I’m a huge fan. You guys are killing it this season.” Normally, I’d say thanks and keep moving without stopping to entertain the possibility of conversation. But for whatever reason, I turn around. Surprise, surprise, it’s the guy Abby was with.

“Thanks,” I say, looking around, trying to figure out why he left her alone to come talk to me. That’s kind of a dick move. “Where’s your girlfriend?” His face pulls tight at the question.

“Gross. That’s my brother, you nitwit.” I angle my head to the side, raising my eyebrows in response. Her gaze hardens as she looks past her brother, directly at me. “Come on, Dex. I don’t have all day,” she says as she purposely hits my shoulder with hers as she passes by.

“Nice to meet you, Dex,” I hold out my hand, and he shakes it as a smile takes over his face.

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing more of you,” he says as he pulls his hand from mine, laughing as he walks away.

So much for a relaxing day before our game tomorrow. Leave it to her to ruin a perfectly good day. The plan was to cruise the beach, have my lunch, and go home for a nap. Now, I just want to get her laugh out of my head.

This has been a game from Hell; it always is when we play the Orlando Osprey. Not only because they’re our state rivals, but also because he plays for Orlando. River Owens. My old best friend from college. The one who recruited my ex in an attempt to destroy my career before it even started.

These games are personal, not only for me but for my roommate Zeke, too. He’s our goalie and was the third musketeer in our little trio before everything fell apart. He doesn’t talk about it much, but I know how deep that betrayal runs for him, too.

Tonight, he’s laser-focused, determined to shut them out. So far, so good. We’re up 3-0, but there’s still time on the clock. My job as a forward is to score, which I have done. Twice. But I know better than to get comfortable with the lead we have.

The ball passes the midfield line into Osprey territory, and I take off, shouting to let Diaz know I’m open. He sees me and dribbles the ball around the defender, executing a perfectly timed pass to the spot I’m running toward. Adjusting my stride, I pull my leg back and kick the ball into the net seconds before an Osprey defenseman slides in front of me.

Hell yeah, hat trick!

I'm not one for flashy celebrations, but I gladly accept the high-fives from my teammates. Their energy feeds into the adrenaline already flowing through me. A glance at the clock tells me we’re in the eighty-seventh minute. That means there are at least three minutes left of regular gameplay; with penalty minutes, we’re probably looking at closer to eight.

We take our positions as the Osprey kick off; Meadows sticks to their center like white on rice, making it nearly impossible for them to gain ground. My whole team knows the history between Zeke, Owens, and me. They fight extra hard, borderline dirty, whenever we play them. The support is something I’ve always been grateful for. We may not be as tight as my brother and his team, but I know they have my back, just as I have theirs.

Meadows gets the ball past the midfield line, Remi quickly picks it up, cutting down the left side of the field with Diaz close behind. Leaning forward, I sprint toward the goal. Diaz picks up the ball from Remi and dribbles it closer to me. I watch as his foot pulls back behind him at the same time as Owens comes from the side, pulling the ball away from my teammate without missing a beat.

I lunge, my ankle knocking the ball, pushing it slightly outside his narrow gait. Jiminez is close enough to scoop it up and pull it away from the Ospreys. Owens glares at me, eyes burning with frustration. That glare might make a lesser man hesitate, but not me. He should know better, I’m a product of his and Nikki’s betrayal. Quiet, closed off, emotionless. Take your pick.

I jut my chin in his direction, a silent invitation for him to try again. His lips curl into a sneer as if to say this isn’t over. It never is.

Ninety-one minutes on the clock, and the ball is back in play. He makes a run for it, his movements sharp and calculated like they always are. He plays beautifully, it sucks that his personality lacks so drastically. He tries to fake me out, but clearly, he’s forgotten we practiced together for twelve years. He spent years perfecting his game alongside us, and I spent just as long learning his every move. Anticipating his movement, I match it, snatch the ball, and quickly pivot. A swift kick sends it back to midfield.

The whistle blows before we can push forward, game over. I look toward Zeke, who steps out of the net, giving me a quick nod. It’s his signal that he's all good, no injuries, but my relief is short-lived as we shake hands with the opposing team. Owen’s grip lingers a fraction too long.

“Nice game,” he says, voice low and dripping with malice. He’s met with silence, I won’t give him the reaction he’s looking for. He leans in closer, enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “You’ve got a good thing going here, Wilder. It’d be a shame if something were to ruin that,” he hums as his hand claps me on the back of the shoulder. What could he possibly be up to now? Whatever it is, I want no part in it.

As soon as I get to the locker room, I immediately strip down to my boxers and hop in the ice bath, laying my head against the back of the tub. It’s like salt in an open wound every time we play this team. But this time, Owens got to me with the insinuation of something happening.

“You okay, man?” Zeke says from somewhere behind me. I grunt in response, which isn’t unusual.

“Hat trick for Señor Grump!” Diaz sings as he hops into the tub next to me. I crack an eye and level him with as much of a glare as I can. He chuckles and does his normal full-body shudder, followed by a high-pitched squeal once he’s fully submerged. “Thought you’d be happier. Did someone piss in your Wheaties this morning?”

“Hooray,” I mutter flatly, twirling a finger in the air with the enthusiasm of a snail on sedatives. There's bickering coming from every corner of the room; any other day, it wouldn’t bother me, but today? Today, I want to bite someone’s head off, mainly because that entire interaction has my stomach in knots. Irritation claws at my chest. I'm ready to explode, but before I get the chance, my timer goes off.

With a deep exhale, I pull myself out of the water, droplets sliding down my skin with every move. I wrap a towel around my waist as I head toward the locker room to change. My jaw is getting a workout with all the additional clenching it’s doing today.

I barely get my shirt pulled over my head when I’m whipped in the stomach with a towel. “Are you coming out with us tonight?” Meadows asks from his place in front of his locker as Diaz whips his towel at me, jumping back as soon as it snaps like a lion trainer at a circus. I grab the end and yank, pulling it out of his hand. The guys love going out after games, but love it even more when we have early games like this, and they can go home and nap first. I roll my eyes before throwing the towel back at him.

Zipping up my bag, I sling it over my shoulder. “No, I’ve got a bachelor party planning meeting with my brother,” which might not be the worst thing in the world. Some quality brother time might just be what the doctor ordered.

“Hey, Han.” I pull my soon-to-be sister-in-law into a hug before releasing her and scratching her dog, Harley, behind the ears. She gives me a smile that I’m sure would melt my heart if I had one left.