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The next time I wake, it’s thankfully not the result of another vicious kick to the ribs. Instead, I’m roused from sleep by Sloane squirming against me, wriggling out from the cage of my arms and sliding out of bed.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I ask groggily, squinting against the rays of light filtering in through the cracks in the blinds.
“Bathroom.”
Her bare feet pad against the floorboards as she makes her way to the en-suite and ducks inside, closing the door tightly behind her. I stretch my arms over my head with a yawn, wondering what the hell time it is and if there’s any hope of talking her back into bed once she’s done in there.
The toilet flushes and she emerges from the bathroom a minute later, bypassing the bed and tiptoeing toward the couch across the room instead.
So I suppose that answers whether she’s planning on coming back to bed.
Sloane picks up her phone from the side table, frowning down at the screen as it lights up. “Shit, it’s almost eleven. We slept through training,” she mutters as she scrolls through her notifications.
“I’m sure the others had it handled,” I sigh, scrubbing a hand over my face. “And if it’s already eleven, then we’ve got the place to ourselves, so get back over here.”
She rolls her eyes as she tosses her phone back down and turns to me, shaking her head. “I need coffee first. And maybe some food. Yeah, food would be good.”
“Women are so needy,” I mumble.
Sloane plucks a throw pillow from the couch, whipping it in my direction. I bark a laugh as I bat it out of the air, watching her strut over to my dresser and snatch my white hat from the row along the top. She slips it on her head backwards, those cute-as-fuck dimples sinking into her cheeks as she hits me with a mischievous grin.
“Nuh uh, take that off,” I growl, sitting up and swinging my feet over the edge of the bed. “You lost hat privileges after fucking taunting me at practice.”
Though I’ve gotta admit, she looks hot as fuck in nothing but my t-shirt and hat right now. Pretty sure it’s my new favorite look on her.
Sloane’s grin deepens as she clocks my hungry perusal of her. “Catch me if you can, Madd,” she challenges with a smirk, tossing me a wink before darting for the door.
I spring to my feet, taking off after her, but damnit she’s quick. By the time I’m out the door, she’s already halfway down the hall, giggling all the way.
I pick up my pace, aiming to catch her on the stairs. Her curly hair bounces with every step and I take the stairs two at a time in hot pursuit, finally catching her at the bottom when she jolts to a stop. I snag her around the waist, picking her up and yanking her back into my chest with a laugh, but then I hear a throat clearing and snap my head up to look toward the living room.
That’s when I realize why Sloane stopped at the bottom of the stairs. It wasn’t because she gave up the chase- it’s because my fucking parents are sitting in the living room, staring right at us.
“Good morning!” Mom announces, a little too smugly.
Sloane wriggles to free herself from my grip and I set her back down, shooting her an apologetic glance.
She looks back at me like she wants the floor to open up beneath her feet and swallow her whole. Her cheeks are flushed with embarrassment, her hands hastily smoothing the rumpled shirt and tugging the hem.
I slip an arm around her shoulders as I glance back to my parents, jaw ticking in irritation. Not that I’m against them stopping by, but their timing really fucking sucks.
“What are you guys doing here?” I ask, raking a hand through my hair.
Avery strides in from the kitchen, chomping on an apple, and I turn to her, narrowing my eyes. “And why didn’tyougive me a heads up?”
“Oh, likeyoudid about bringing my bestie here for a sleepover?” she fires back. “Rude.” Avery rolls her eyes dramatically, her expression softening as she turns to Sloane with a smile. “Hey, babe. Want some coffee?”
“Yes, please,” Sloane croaks, slipping out from under my arm to scamper off toward my sister.
The two of them head into the kitchen while I walk over to the living room, flopping down on the nearest sofa with a sigh. “Don’t tell me you’re bored with retirement again,” I chuckle wryly, glancing at my dad.
“We need to talk,” he growls.
I furrow my brow in confusion, sitting up a little straighter in response to his harsh tone. “About?”
He pins me with a stern glare and I blow out a breath, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees.
“If this is about what happened with Tristan, he fucking deserved it,” I mutter. “Didn’t Brock tell youwhyI hit him?”
