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On the screen, Christian happened to turn just as Aiden’s hands went to his hips, his body language deceptively casual if it wasn’t for the set to his shoulders.
It only took a few moments before Christian threw his arms out to the sides and took two steps toward the man I was married to. His stance became confrontational even before he pulled his helmet off and threw it, his feet taking him the two other steps between him and Aiden.
The big guy stood tall, his hands minutely flexing at his hips. Maybe no one else would notice the movement but I did. Christian’s face was visible on the screen, his cheeks turned red, his mouth getting wider as one could only assume he was yelling.
And then it happened.
Christian’s fist flew forward and Aiden’s head jerked back just slightly. The big guy took a step backward as his hands fell to his sides.
Christian hit him again.
The man known as The Wall of Winnipeg dropped his helmet on the ground almost casually. His big hands flexed and stretched wide at his sides shortly before he lunged. That huge fist went up and connected; Christian’s head flew back. Aiden hit him again with that dominant left hand, his big body up and towering over the smaller man’s by that point so that the only thing visible after the second hit was Christian on the ground just as players ran up to them.
Aiden let them push him away as he backed up, his attention staying focused on the wide receiver on the ground as they became surrounded by other players and staff.
Zac tapped his thumb against the screen, turning his head to give me a wide-eyed look.
I could only stare at him with my mouth just slightly open. We both only managed to blink at each other.
And the two of us said the same thing at the same time: “Holy shit.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Diana’s horrified face warned me about what she was going to say before she actually vocalized it. “Get inside before anyone sees you,” she practically hissed.
I made sure she watched me roll my eyes as I brushed past her into her apartment. Yeah, I knew I had about an inch of my natural hair color peeking out from my roots, but I didn’t really care. The only reason why I hadn’t dyed it back to its normal reddish brown was because I’d texted her for the first time since Thanksgiving to ask what box of dye at the pharmacy she recommended, and gotten:
You’re already on my last nerve. Buy it and I’ll kill you.
Which was why I found myself driving an hour to go visit her on her day off a couple of weeks after Thanksgiving, putting up with the sneer on her face as her gaze roamed over my hair again. I swear she might have even shuddered a little.
Her repulsion wasn’t enough to keep me from kissing her on the cheek and giving her butt a slap in ‘hello.’ It had been way too long since we’d last seen each other. She’d pretended to be mad long enough.
She gave me a parting smack in return as her eyes wandered over me briefly. “Besides your hair, you look really good.”
I felt really good. “I’ve been running four days a week and riding a stationary bike once a week.”
Diana eyeballed me again. “You should probably buy new clothes soon.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged and looked her over, not so subconsciously looking for finger-shaped bruises on any of her exposed skin. I didn’t find any, but I did notice the bags under her eyes. “You look tired.”
The fact she didn’t flip me off when that would have been her normal reaction didn’t hit me until much later. “I am tired. I’m glad you noticed.” She knew better than to wait for me to apologize. “I’ve been working doubles, I’m not getting enough sleep. I’m turning into you.”
“A successful, hardworking woman. I think I’m going to shed a tear.”
“Oh, fuck off. Go into the kitchen and take your shirt off,” she cracked up. I didn’t even get a chance to make a joke about her wanting me to strip before she stopped me with a hand. “This isn’t Striptease. I’m not giving you a dollar or taking you out to dinner first.”
“Fair enough,” I muttered and made my way into the kitchen where I peeled my T-shirt over my head.
“So… how have you been?” she asked slow and purposely awkward.
I used the same dull tone. “I’m fine. And you?”
“Good,” my robot-voiced best friend replied.
Our eyes met and we both smiled. She shoved at my shoulder and I tried to pinch her stomach. “Are we fine now?” I asked with a laugh.
“Yeah, we’re fine. Now tell me everything I’ve missed.”
We spent the next hour talking. I told her about Thanksgiving and going to Aiden’s game. Twenty of those minutes consisted of us going over the day of my little brother’s game, how Susie had showed up, what Aiden had said to her husband, and then explaining the hatred on the big guy’s face as he’d stared at my sister. I told her about him helping me with the Christmas tree and lights. How he got into a fight with Christian, whom she remembered clearly from that night at the bar because she’d threatened to kick his ass after I told her what had happened.
By the end of it, she had me under a helmet that looked like something out of the NASA space program, and she looked dazed.
“Jesus,” she said twice.
“I thought I was over this stage in my life.”
“No shit. It’s like something out of those novelas my mom watches.”
“The same ones we used to watch with her,” I pointed out. It was how I’d learned Spanish.
