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She laughs softly. “No, no. I want to go to your game! I just need a long morning nap. But I’ll be there, big guy. Promise.”
He kisses her softly. “Tough girl. I love you, precious.”
“I love you,” she whispers back, then grins at him. “But you better kick some ass for me today.”
chapter
fifty-two
Not sure how this asshole thought he would avoid me when we’re on the same damn football team, but whatever. He’s an idiot because despite him leaving the house this morning without a word to anyone, I find him within five minutes of arriving at the stadium.
Grabbing the back of his shoulder pads, I yank him up from the bench where he’s tying his cleats. The locker room is so full of big guys avoiding glimpses of each other’s junk, no one even notices when I haul Declan’s sorry ass into the tunnel and slam him into the wall.
The more I think about those bruises marking Meg’s arms, the more pissed I get. I can tell from the look on his face—he knows exactly why I’m glaring.
It isn’t the sex part.
If I found out he finally gave in and gave our sweet little omega a good time, I would be bouncing up and down. But fucking her rough right out of the gate isn’t right.
He hasn’t built any trust with her. He hasn’t given her any affection or made a connection. He basically used her and sent her back to her bed, unwashed, with marks all over her. Expecting me to do all the cuddling for him.
I mean, I did.
But still.
He glares back at me, pouting. Acting like he doesn’t understand even though I know he does. The little shit.
I shove at his shoulder until the hard, white plastic knocks into the cinderblock wall. “Talk. Now.”
I hate this aggressive horseshit. Always have. Unfortunately, sometimes, knocking Dec around is the only way to get through to him. He spent his whole childhood taking hits. It makes sense that’s what he responds to now.
God, that’s fucking depressing.
When my hands slip off him, he pushes himself up, almost at my eye level but not quite. No one is.
“I’m sure the little princess cried on your shoulder about it all night,” he jeers. “You don’t need to hear my side.”
“You don’t have a fucking side!” I shout. For a minute, I have to concentrate on not decking him. I shoot air out of my nose, doing my best not to recall all of the times our girl has gone out of her way to give him the benefit of the doubt. Because then I’d have to strangle him.
Instead, I narrow my eyes, taking in the pissed off expression on his face and all the turmoil just underneath it.
He’s so angry.
And I get it.
But not as much Meg would.
“You know what’s fucked?” I continue. “Of all of us, she’s the one who could understand you the best. You keep pushing her away because of all your bullshit, the same way she tried to build walls to protect herself. The only difference is she’s strong enough to try to overcome everything she went through. And you aren’t.”
Blue fire fills his eyes. His brows slam down. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“I know you don’t!” I yell. “Because you have your head so far up your own ass, you can’t even see her. How amazing she is. After everything she told us last night?—”
He thinks I’m talking about him but I’m not. Still, he demands, “What did the brat tell you?”
Fuck.
I’m not known for my impulse control. And this is no exception. Some higher part of my brain knows I should probably wait and let Meg tell him herself, but I’m so tired of all of us tiptoeing around each other. The truth needs to come out.
