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I chuckle at the horrific memory, making a pained face. “Don't remind me. That was not my finest moment.”
He's referring to the situation when his mother's driver was taking us from the court hearing after she’d helped finalize my guardianship, and Colin had a meltdown because he was wearing a suit coat, and Colin hates suit coats.
“One of my favorites.” He smiles.
“Ash, I really want—”
“And I told her Pickle is a force to be reckoned with. If she wants you to put Kanye on, you better put Kanye on, especially if it's for her big bro,” he interrupts enthusiastically.
This is what he does. He's literally a Golden Retriever in human form. Excited, exuberant, all over the place. A man potentially suffering from severe ADHD that he self-medicates with football. Even so, he's one of my favorite people. He and his family have always looked out for me and Colin, and I reciprocated that when he fell to his injury. It's been far too long since we've seen each other.
“Oh my God, I remember how stupid I sounded yelling at that poor man. I was in pure panic mode. He didn't deserve my wrath.” I chuckle, putting my hand to my forehead. “But seriously, Ash, I want you to meet—”
“Always looking out for your bro, aren't you? Literally the best sister a guy could ask for,” he says with a proud grin. “How is Colin? I miss him! So does my mom. How's work? It's so good to see you! I had no idea you'd be here!”
He rattles questions and statements off so fast I can't even focus on answering one.
“Wait, were you trying to tell me something?! What were you saying when I interrupted you? I'm sorry, I'm all over the place. I'm just geeking out to see you again!” he exclaims.
“I know,” I say, a smile stretching across my face at the thought of the person who got me out of the apartment. Having these two guys meet makes me feel all warm and gooey inside, even if Ash doesn’t know the depth of our little connection. “But I really want you to meet someone who's become rather important to me,” I say, gently touching his upper arm. “He's—”
I hear the pop of a glass breaking, startling me, and look over to find the hard eyes of a man from across the room. A man who has shattered glass around him and in his hand. A man who's simultaneously holding a red flag in the other.
He's jealous.
“He's about to get his ass whooped,” I mumble beneath my breath.
Fictional men anger him. I can only imagine what a real life one is doing to his psyche.
“Huh?” Ashton asks, looking towards the bar, clearly not hearing me.
“Nothing, sorry. Excuse me for a minute,” I say, walking around Ashton's tall form, “I'll be right back. I've got something to handle.”
Or someone.
Marching over towards Lake as he begins marching towards me, I see some of his teammates around him turn their heads to face me.
“You,” I say directly. “Outside.” I point to the door.
Candy's eyes round as he holds a hand to his lips, covering his expression the best he can before laughing through it.
“Ooooh! Teacher's mad, Lakey! You coulda cut those hands!” he hollers through cupped hands. “Spank him, Dyl. He's a bad boy.”
I ignore him entirely, trying not to draw any more attention to us, and begin walking outside, knowing he'll follow.
I march across the creaky wooden floor of the old pub, approaching the door as another familiar face appears behind it.
Beckham walks up just as I'm opening the door, wearing fitted jeans and a sweater that truly does his body justice. His face lights up with a handsome smile as he eyes me up and down, his hand running through his light-brown, disheveled hair.
“Damn, Dylan.”
My elbow gets yanked and I fall into Lake's side. Ripping my arm away from him, I send daggers with my eyes.
“Just getting some air. Be back in a jiffy,Bencham,” Lake grumbles.
I continue glaring at Lake as Beckham's eyes narrow at him before peering back at me with a worried expression.
“You good?” he directs his questions towards me.
