Page 104 of Scoring Eden

When I don’t immediately answer, he carries on. “I’m just saying, you’re weirdly attached to your hair, and you’re about to cut it all off to help the son of a woman you’re not even in a real relationship with? Dude.” He shakes his head with a laugh. “You’re either the most delusional man alive…or the dumbest.”

I’m probably both, let’s be real.

Only a man as stupid as me could have the woman of his dreams in the palm of his hand and still be planning to put her back down.

“Dude,” I hiss. “Can you keep your voice down? Coach could walk in at any minute.”

Leo looks at me knowingly then claps Roman on the shoulder. “Maybe we should ease off him.”

“Seriously?” Roman swings his head toward Leo. “You’re hearing what I’m hearing, right?”

“I just don’t think calling the guy an idiot is going to achieve what you want it to right now. Besides, we’ve got a game in, like, five minutes, so let’s try not to piss off the captain if you want a shot at winning the league this year.”

Roman groans. “Fine, I’ll drop it. For now.” Then to me, he says, “I assume you’re bringing her to Leo and Brynn’s housewarming party later?”

My sister and her husband picked up the keys to their new place this week, and true to the tradition of Leo hosting most social gatherings, they’re having the team and their significant others over to celebrate.

Naturally, Eden is coming with me.

Her sister too, actually, according to a slew of text messages I received half an hour ago, letting me know that she’ll be acting as a chaperone to ensure I’m treating Eden with the "utmost respect and adoration she deserves.” Which, of course, I agree with. I just don’t need a knife-wielding twenty-two-year-old to take on the role of my supervisor.

“Yeah, she’s coming.”

“Great.” Roman grins. “I’ll get front-row seats to the circus—that is, you pretending to be in love with her in front of the team while simultaneously pretending not to be in love with her to yourself.”

I mean, when he puts it like that…

At least he had the decency to lower his voice this time, because Coach Carter slams open the door to the locker room. He stands before us in a tailored suit, hands on his hips, and his rotund stomach peeking out between his unbuttoned jacket. “Right, boys, bring it in.”

Leo throws on the rest of his gear and trails behind us as we peel ourselves off the benches to gather around our coach.

“I’m gonna jump straight into this. No bullshit. We’ve been playing well this season, working hard, communicating as a team, covering each other. I expect the same today. The team we’re up against has one of the strongest defenses in the league, so push hard on the offensive. Work together. Move the ball quickly, and be aggressive with your plays. But don’t slack on our defense. Underestimating their strikers will lose us this game, understand?”

Everyone nods, mumbles of “Yes, Coach” and “Got it” rumbling through the team like a passing train. Then we file into the stadium tunnel, where we wait to be paired with a child mascot for the walkout.

Huh, maybe this is something Macon would want to do at some point. I should run it by Eden later.

I’ve already had the privilege of being joined by Ivy for the game ceremony, which was a beautifully wholesome experience, though not one I’m in a hurry to repeat. My seven-year-old niece may be cute as hell, but she can’t stand still for the life of her and thought that telling me I should give her daddy my captain badge because I’d “probably lose” was an adequate pre-game pep talk.

The freckle-faced kid with floppy hair slipping his hand into mine now is thankfully more of the silent type. And as we walk out onto the grass and stand tall for the national anthem, there’s a noticeable lift to my mood that I didn’t have before. An injection of sunshine into my veins. Because standing just behind the glass of the family suite, Eden is watching me with a smile on her face.

She presses a hand to the glass like she’s reaching out to touch me. I cover my heart with my hand like I can feel it and hold her gaze until the star-spangled banner has stopped waving over the land of the free and the brave.

And I realize, as I sing the final lines of the anthem, that’s how she makes me feel.

Free.

If only I could find it in myself to be brave.

We draw the game.

It doesn’t burn like a defeat, but we don’t celebrate it as a win either, even though we’d anticipated the outcome.

Still, the energy amongst the boys is high as we stand inside Brynn and Leo’s new kitchen, their three-legged cat, Gordon, scampering around our ankles as Macon and my nieces race each other into the backyard.

It’s a beautiful house. Less modern than the one I’ve purchased next door, but homier and more expensive, which I guess is to be expected when you’re a double-multi-million-dollar-income family. My sister’s earnings aren’t to be scoffed at when she’s built herself somewhat of a social media dynasty.

The home is Georgian-inspired and reimagined by some fancy-ass architect whose name I can’t remember, with arched terraces, a large pool, and manicured gardens that will soon be destroyed if my nieces have anything to do with it. It’s gorgeous and perfect for my sister and her family.