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I talk over him, declaring, “It’s going to be Joan, me, Ace, and Noble versus the rest of you guys.”

“Um…” Noble begins.

“Princess,” Ace says quietly, a note of warning in his tone.

“Oh,” Joan says quietly, her voice neither the frantic energy of yesterday and this morning nor the funny, sweet energy I experienced at the spa once I got her to calm down and settle in.

It’s sad.

Resigned.

And I spent too fucking long feeling that same damned way to let it happen right in front of me.

“I should just sit out,” she says.

“You’re on our team,” I tell her firmly then turn to the boys, fixing them both in place with my iciest of ice glares. “Isn’t she?”

Ace glances at Noble.

Who looks back.

Then, almost at once, they both sigh and say, “Yes.”

* * *

“Get her!” I hear as I dip and slide to the side, Lex so close to grabbing me that I actually feel the air around my shoulder shiver and move.

But I’m moving, doing the aforementioned dip and slide to the side.

Mostly because I know that they’ll underestimate me.

And I know I’ll only have one chance to make them pay for that.

Lex curses and stumbles, and I dodge again.

This time he’s even closer, and I know that I’m running out of time.

So I make one more change of direction then sprint full-out, knowing this is far more exercise than I’ve had in ages.

Then I’m in an open stretch of grass and I know that Noble—first up at quarterback—sees me because his mouth hitches up and he throws the ball to me.

Hard.

Hard enough that it stings when it hits my palms, hard enough that I’m worried for my manicure.

Hard enough that it steals my breath for a moment before I get my feet in gear and start for the end zone, looking back over my shoulder and seeing that Lex is back, chasing me hard, a fierce expression on his face that has me picking up my pace.

A look the other way and I see that Steve, who was guarding Joan, but barely, is already turning my way, Beck abandoning Ace in much the same fashion (though he wasn’t barely covering Ace, he was on his brother’s ass and doing it with lots of grabbing, shoving, elbowing, and some punching).

Footfalls come closer and I wonder how much it’s going to hurt when Lex barrels into me.

Then I figure that I’ve taken plenty of hits from my half-brothers, so one more isn’t going to break me.

Then I figure with the end zone close and Oakes turning from taking Noble down—the second youngest of the Ambrose brother’s five-second grace period up, which meant he was able to be tackled (and then was promptly sacked)—I’d better get over the line.

Only, it doesn’t go that smoothly.

Of course it doesn’t.