Zac huffed and gave me a look that resembled one of Aiden’s a little too closely. “Why wouldn’t I tell him?”

“Because it didn’t matter.”

Yeah, he was definitely giving me one of Aiden’s faces. “If I was the one you were married to, I’d want him to tell me.”

“Traitor.” That made sense, but I wasn’t going to admit it.

The blond snorted. “Van, think about it for a second. Aiden’s not—he’s not going to give you a hug, tell you you’re pretty, and call you his best friend, but I know him, and he cares about you.”

Now he does, I thought. “If I die, he can’t get his papers fixed so easily.”

His blue eyes narrowed and he gestured toward the front door. “If you die, who else would he have that gives a shit about him?”

What was that supposed to mean?

“C’mon. Let’s go inside. I’m starvin’,” he finished up.

I took one more peek at the bright blue lights and followed him in. We had barely opened the door when the persistent beeping of Aiden’s ringtone started going off from somewhere in the kitchen. I ignored it and headed toward the fridge, pulling out leftovers from the day before.

“What do you have?” Zac asked, peeking over my shoulder as I scooped food onto a plate.

“Pasta.” I just handed it over. There wasn’t a point in asking him if he wanted it. Of course he’d want it.

“Yum,” he said, without even tasting it.

Aiden’s phone began to ring again just as I set my plate into the microwave to warm up. By the time it was done, the phone had stopped ringing and started up all over again. I sat down to eat, and it started beeping. Again.

“Who the hell is calling him?” Zac asked as he stood in front of the microwave watching his food heat up.

Leaning to the side, I dragged Aiden’s phone over and glanced at the screen. TREVOR MCMANN flashed across the screen. Ugh.

“Trevor,” I said.

Zac made an impolite noise. “I bet he’s callin’ about today.”

I winced. He was probably right. “Have you talked to him?”

“I talked to him on Thanksgivin’. I figured if he started talkin’ a whole buncha nonsense, I could pass the phone over to my mama,” he admitted with a laugh.

The phone started ringing one more time. Good gracious. I picked up his phone and hesitated. This was my fault. Wasn’t it? “I’m going to answer. Should I answer?”

“Take one for Team Graves.”

Damn it. I answered. “Hello?”

“Aiden what the—?”

“This is Vanessa.” I made a face at Zac mouthing, ‘Why did I do this?’

“Put Aiden on the phone,” he demanded without any pretense.

“Ah, I don’t think so,” I said quickly.

“What do you mean you don’t think so? Put him on the goddamn phone.”

“How about you hold your horses. He’s napping. I’m not going to go wake him up, buddy. If you have a message, pass it along. If you don’t have a message, I’ll make sure to tell him you called.” Either way, I wasn’t going to tell Aiden shit. Trevor just didn’t need to know that.

“Goddammit, Vanessa. I need to talk to him.”

“And he needs his sleep.”

Trevor made a noise that was more than a huff and less than what? A growl. I could tell how pissed off he was right then, how important he felt the conversation he wanted to have with Aiden seemed to be. The thing was, I didn’t care. “You and I haven’t had a chance to chat lately, but don’t think I’ve forgotten about you. This shit today is your fault. I know it is.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’m pretty sure Aiden pays you to support him, not call and nag. I know I sure as hell don’t want to listen to you right now. So, I’ll make sure to let him know you called.”

“Vanessa!” the son of an asshole had the nerve to shout.

“Yell at me again, and I’m going to make sure you regret it, do you hear me? I think you have enough to worry about without adding me to your list,” I growled into the phone, getting more pissed by the second. “And calm your asshole talking to Aiden too while you’re at it. I don’t appreciate you treating him like a little kid.”

“You’re a pain in—”

I pulled the phone away from my face and with my other hand gave the phone my middle finger. Putting it back against my face, I said, “Your ass, I know. I’ll let him know you called, but I’m just letting you know you should calm down before you talk to him.”

“He got into it with Christian because of you, didn’t he?”

“If you knew anything about him, you’d know he doesn’t do anything without a reason, so think about that.”

Trevor made a noise over the line that I quickly ignored.

“I’ll let him know you called. Bye.”

Yeah, I might have shoved my finger against the screen again a lot more aggressively than what was really necessary, but it felt like I needed to since I didn’t have a phone to slam into its cradle.

“He’s such a fucking asshole—” I started to say as I looked up, only to find Zac with a hand over his eyes.

I felt it right then.

Slowly turning on my stool, I found Aiden standing just inside the kitchen with his eyebrows raised.

“I hate him.” I held his phone out toward him. “And you should probably turn off your phone before he calls again.”


I was in my room hours later, when Zac slipped in through the door, his eyes bright, his expression that little-boy one that put me in a good mood. “Guess what?”

I paused the show I was watching and raised my eyebrows, sitting up straight on the mattress. “I don’t know. What?”

“I found it,” he said even as he skid across the floor in his pajamas, his cell phone clutched in his hand.

That had me perking up. “What did you find?”

Zac sat on the edge of my bed right next to me. His back was to the headboard as he held the screen between the small space between us. “Look.”

I did just that.

Maximized on the screen was an image of two men in Three Hundreds practice jerseys without pads. I didn’t have to look at the number on the bigger man’s shirt to know it was Aiden; I knew that body. I knew that body like the back of my hand. Plus, his helmet was off and hanging off the fingers of his right hand. I had to think for a moment about the guy standing a few feet away from him though. Number eighty-eight. Christian.

They were the only people on camera. With about five feet separating them, they were both facing the field where one could only assume was the rest of the team. There wasn’t any sound unfortunately.

On the screen, Christian happened to turn just as Aiden’s hands went to his hips, his body language deceptively casual if it wasn’t for the set to his shoulders.

It only took a few moments before Christian threw his arms out to the sides and took two steps toward the man I was married to. His stance became confrontational even before he pulled his helmet off and threw it, his feet taking him the two other steps between him and Aiden.

The big guy stood tall, his hands minutely flexing at his hips. Maybe no one else would notice the movement but I did. Christian’s face was visible on the screen, his cheeks turned red, his mouth getting wider as one could only assume he was yelling.

And then it happened.

Christian’s fist flew forward and Aiden’s head jerked back just slightly. The big guy took a step backward as his hands fell to his sides.

Christian hit him again.

The man known as The Wall of Winnipeg dropped his helmet on the ground almost casually. His big hands flexed and stretched wide at his sides shortly before he lunged. That huge fist went up and connected; Christian’s head flew back. Aiden hit him again with that dominant left hand, his big body up and towering over the smaller man’s by that point so that the only thing visible after the second hit was Christian on the ground just as players ran up to them.

Aiden let them push him away as he backed up, his attention staying focused on the wide receiver on the ground as they became surrounded by other players and staff.

Zac tapped his thumb against the screen, turning his head to give me a wide-eyed look.

I could only stare at him with my mouth just slightly open. We both only managed to blink at each other.

And the two of us said the same thing at the same time: “Holy shit.”





Chapter Twenty-Four

Diana’s horrified face warned me about what she was going to say before she actually vocalized it. “Get inside before anyone sees you,” she practically hissed.

I made sure she watched me roll my eyes as I brushed past her into her apartment. Yeah, I knew I had about an inch of my natural hair color peeking out from my roots, but I didn’t really care. The only reason why I hadn’t dyed it back to its normal reddish brown was because I’d texted her for the first time since Thanksgiving to ask what box of dye at the pharmacy she recommended, and gotten:

You’re already on my last nerve. Buy it and I’ll kill you.

Which was why I found myself driving an hour to go visit her on her day off a couple of weeks after Thanksgiving, putting up with the sneer on her face as her gaze roamed over my hair again. I swear she might have even shuddered a little.

Her repulsion wasn’t enough to keep me from kissing her on the cheek and giving her butt a slap in ‘hello.’ It had been way too long since we’d last seen each other. She’d pretended to be mad long enough.

She gave me a parting smack in return as her eyes wandered over me briefly. “Besides your hair, you look really good.”

I felt really good. “I’ve been running four days a week and riding a stationary bike once a week.”

Diana eyeballed me again. “You should probably buy new clothes soon.”

“Maybe.” I shrugged and looked her over, not so subconsciously looking for finger-shaped bruises on any of her exposed skin. I didn’t find any, but I did notice the bags under her eyes. “You look tired.”