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I was tapping out to the pleasure, moment and feelings I had for Seb.
And I did so with a smile on my face.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
SEBASTIAN
Jago elbowed me and nodded.
He put a pointer finger to his lips.
Then he whispered, “Wanna fuck with Atlas?”
“Not really,” I said. “He’s going to kill you.”
“Worth it,” Jago said.
He showed me a water bottle and smiled big.
I leaned against one of the weight machines in the weight room and folded my arms.
Joe stepped up next to me.
He smelled like wet iron and body odor.
“We’re going to need a new goalie if he does this,” Joe said.
“You’d kill him?” I asked.
“I’d break his neck and not think twice,” Joe said. “I don’t want to watch this.”
Joe lumbered away, back to his jam-packed bar to work on even more squats.
As if he needed to do more.
His legs were bigger than tree trunks.
Rome curled one weight in his right hand while texting with his left hand.
Henry was on the treadmill, running so fast you would have sworn a big, mean grizzly bear was chasing him.
We really didn’t have a set off-season routine.
I texted all the guys and told them we needed at least once-a-week sessions together.
The way the season ended, it felt good.
Finally, for once, it felt good.
We were closer than ever, in part due to Atlas showing up and having a baby with the first woman he slept with once arriving.
But that was okay.
We had a connection.
A budding brotherhood in some lovey-dovey sense.
Jago crept up to Atlas.
