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He didn’t need to fucking tell me that. I was the one who put the target on it. I smirked. “Just taking advantage of the fact that we have some decent fucking support on the field for once.”
“Fuck you,” Thatch stated, coming into the room. His hair wet, he had nothing on but a pair of jeans, and Wells flanked him. They both shouldered past me, obviously in their feelings about what I said, and I rolled my eyes.
They must have not been too sore about it, because they did tap my fist on their way out after they’d dressed. I told them not to be late tomorrow since they’d been dicking around before practice. This was something else Bruno Sloane didn’t do, and I reminded them of that.
They both jostled me, and after they left, I tugged a shirt on. “They could learn a lot from the target. Bru was hustling his ass out there, unlike them.”
“Maybe.” Wolf stood. Fully dressed, he closed his locker. “But the guy’s still a target.” His eyes narrowed. “His sister is still the enemy.”
We kept our enemies close, hence the connection to Bruno, but I didn’t need him to remind me of the rules.
I fucking made them.
“Right, Wolf,” I said, turning away. It was all I could do not to start some shit with him. Ares Mallick may be my best friend, but I had to check his ass more often than not. We were two guys filled with testosterone and malice, a deadly combination. Wolf had his own reasons for that, and though I respected him, I didn’t put up with it. Nor did he put up with my bullshit. Honestly, between the two of us, we flew off the handle just to start shit, but I really didn’t have time for it today.
He tapped my back since I didn’t give him my fist, pretending to be busy getting my belt on. He left after that, and a sophomore player came in to get me after I was all alone.
“Hey, Prinze. Your mom is looking for you out by the field.”
I didn’t think I’d heard him right. Neither of my parents came to practice, but I nodded at him. I honestly expected to find a fuck buddy or something when I got out there, maybe someone using the excuse of my mom as a way to get me out of the locker room quicker.
Girls had attempted crazier things to get my attention, so imagine my surprise when my mom was standing out near the field. She was on the sidelines actually, still dressed for work in her heels and pantsuit. She was pacing the track surrounding the field when I jogged up to her.
“Mom.” I went quick, worried. She didn’t come to my practices. In fact, the last time I’d come upon her pacing like this, things had been bad.
Stuff had happened.
My family had experienced more tragedy than what should be humanly possible, most of which had occurred before I was even born. I’d heard stories, tales of murder and darkness and a chilling family legacy well before any breaths I’d breathed. I was experiencing the backlash of it now, but even with as numb as I started to get to bullshit occurring in my life, I hadn’t been prepared to come outside and see my mom pacing rogue on the racetrack.
And with flushed cheeks.
She’d looked like she’s seen a ghost, and I pulled her off to the side. “Mom, what’s going—”
She wrestled around in her purse, moved things around like crazy. She seemed frazzled, panicked, and when she pulled out a bag holding a long skinny object, I fucking panicked. I didn’t know why she was showing me this.
“This was delivered to my office,” she said, holding it up. She waved it at me. “Why was this delivered to my office, Dorian Prinze?”
I eyed what she had in the bag with no words. I mean, I knew what the thing fucking was.
She shoved a note in my face.
“It came with this,” she huffed, gazing around, and I read the note while she took the bag back.
“Ask your son about this,” the note said. “Thought you should know.”
No sooner had I read the note than she was shoving the bag back in my face. Inside was a long stick.
A pregnancy test with blue lines.
My mother was basically on the football field showing me a pregnancy test, and the note she apparently got to go with it. She shook it. “What is the meaning of this, Dorian?” she asked, her voice low. “Did you get a girl pregnant?”
The words came out whispered, thick and loaded with emotion. I had no idea what the fuck was going on, but whatever it was had nothing to do with me. I shook my head. “Mom—”
“Don’t you lie to me, Dorian.” She gazed around. No one was out here because practice was over. Everyone had gone home, the field cleared. She hugged her arms. “Dear God, are you making me a grandmother?”
My jaw dropped, fucking shocked to hell. “No, Mom. No—”
“Then what is this?” she whisper-shouted. “Why did someone have this delivered to my office via carrier instructing me to ask my eighteen-year-old son about it!”
