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Not just tough and tense and frustrating—or not because of the usual reasons, anyway. We were being filmed for a sports show, so now the internet has a video of two of my teammates exchanging blows…
And Coach jumping in to punch them both.
Coach has a black eye and a fat lip for his trouble.
The two idiots are benched.
And my social media is no longer flooded with requests for more of Nova’s drink recipes.
I’m tagged in videos from every angle, breaking down exactly what happened (none of which are actually right since the fight was about something so fucking stupid, it doesn’t even bear discussing), and listing all the thingsIshould be doing to make it better.
I’mthe captain.
I’mresponsible.
The problem is very few people in that locker room respect what I say.
Because they don’t respect each other or themselves or the sport or the fact that we’re meant to come together.
It’s a team of individuals.
And we’re never going to make it all the way to hefting the Cup without working with each other.
It’s a fucking miracle we’ve won as many games as we have.
I lift my brows at Knox. “Since you’ve got the A”—the assistant captain position—“I’m open to any and all suggestions.”
He winces. “Nah, man, I’m just here for the fun times and shit-giving.”
“Right,” I mutter. Which is exactly the problem. I seem to be the only one who gives a fuck and is trying to change the way the team is working. Sighing, I roll my shoulders then lift the pitcher and refill my glass with beer, deciding that I’ll take any type of alcohol at this point, but also wishing I had a honey rosemary mule.
Because I’ve been thoroughly corrupted by Nova Cassidy.
Who…
Walks in the door, arm in arm with Knox’s sister, Daniela—or Ella, as everyone calls her.
Or Trouble Number Two as sheshouldbe known.
Nova spots me and smiles, but when she starts to head for an empty table, I inwardly shake my head, get up, and move to her.
This woman doesn’t get it.
She’s staying in my home, even when I’m not there.
She ordered the furniture that’s now filling the rooms inside.
But I can’t shake the feeling that she still has one foot out the door.
And what are you doing to convince her to stay?
Not running in the other fucking direction, that’s what.
Tell her that I want her to stay.
And letting her pick out furniture and stay in my house, and fucking her into oblivion every opportunity I got.
Cooking for her.
