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“Don’t think so. He ain’t talking to Hawke either, which is weird. Something’s off. He loves you. I’m sure you’ll make it better, but heads up.”
I give Malik a quick hug before gluing my eyes to the doors of the locker room. It’s guarded. I can’t go in. It makes me sick with worry. I want to help Beau.
What’s wrong?
Usually, the guys don’t make me wait this long. It’s like every player, and most of the staff leave until finally Beau appears, pushing the doors open.
He’s showered and dressed. He looks sexy and powerful in his light grey, tailored dress pants and a loose white V-neck T-shirt. Usually, he comes out smiling and looking for me.
“Hey,” but I rush to him, reading his face. It’s like he’s seen a ghost. “What’s wrong?”
He snarls, “Let’s get out of here.”
“Where’s Colt?”
“Fuck Colt.”
I pull back, reading his face. He’s not kidding. “Beau, what happened?”
“Not now, Blair. Not here.”
I look over his shoulder, and Colt appears in the doorway, his eyes aimed at us. He’s in his usual style—cream joggers and a matching sleeveless shirt. With his hair knot and dark ink, it’s a deadly look.
So is the expression on his face.
It makes a chill drop through my veins. Even when we were in Belize, these two never looked like this. Like if the other were drowning, they’d walk away.
But I won’t.
Not now. Not ever.
I plaster a smile on my face. We’re still under watching eyes. “Come on. The limo’s waiting,” I tell them. “We got a party to attend.”
“Just us,” Beau mutters, grabbing my hand.
“No,” I softly answer, squeezing it.
Beau looks surprised, but I turn my head, my eyes and voice pleading, “Colt? Please. Come with us. Our friends are waiting.”
Colt wavers, like he doesn’t know what to do, his eyes glaring at Beau while Beau glares back.
They won’t budge.
So I drop my voice to where only they can hear. “I swear to God, if you two don’t smile and get in that damn limo together, I’ll go back to dating my plastic boyfriends in Charleston.”
Silently, we walk toward the exit. Beau holds my hand, but I glance back and let Colt read my eyes. “Are you okay?”
The chauffeur holds the door open. We slide inside, and once it’s safe, I ask, “What the hell happened?”
Beau doesn’t speak. Neither does Colt.
They just snarl at each other like it’s about to be a shank fight.
“Fine then.” I reach, popping open the champagne chilling in the silver bucket. I pour myself a glass and toast, “Here’s to a great win against Philadelphia. And here’s to my amazing men. The first one who tells me what’s going on gets a blowjob.”
Beau snarls, “It’s not fucking funny, Blair.”
“So then get serious and tell me what’s going on.”
