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“That’s what you say now.” Adil tapped a finger against his temple. “Just wait. One day, you’ll wake up and realize you’re craving love and companionship like the rest of us. Then you’ll be glad I saw the vision from early on. If love can claim Donovan and DuBois, it can find you too. You just gotta have faith.”
“Don’t bring me into this,” Asher said. “I was never against love. I knew Scarlett was it for me from day one.”
“Please.” Vincent scoffed. “Like you weren’t shitting bricks when you found out she was my sister.”
Asher and Vincent used to be bitter rivals. They’d only mended fences after Asher transferred to Blackcastle and started dating Scarlett.
“Yeah, like you weren’t shitting bricks when you secretly moved in with Coach’s daughter,” Asher retorted. “What kind of idiot—”
“Don’t call me an idiot—”
“I’ll call you whatever I—”
“Now, boys, let’s play nice.” Adil placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “Remember, words have the power to—”
“Shut up,” Asher and Vincent snapped in unison.
They were friends now, but old habits died hard.
I shook my head and left them to their squabbling. I stopped by the mailroom on my way to the exit. The admin team had been urging me to clear out my fan mail since I hadn’t checked it in so long, and my cubby was getting overcrowded.
I flipped through the stack of envelopes and postcards, more out of habit than genuine curiosity. I was always touched when people took the time to write to me, but I’d seen it all over the years.
I was about to shove the whole stack into my bag when one of the envelopes caught my eye. It was stiff and expensive-looking, with calligraphed writing and an actual wax seal. There was no name, but the return address indicated it was sent from Greenwich, Connecticut.
Huh. My agent had set up a separate PO box for me in the US, so my American fan mail was often routed there instead of to the club.
The envelope didn’t look like fan mail though. It was too fancy, even for a wedding invitation (I received a surprising number of those).
Greenwich…who did I know in Greenwich? It nagged at a corner of my mind, but I couldn’t pinpoint why.
I slid a finger under the envelope flap and—
“Noah, Gallagher grabbed my phone and is starting to message people pretending to be you!” Adil yelled from across the hall. “I’m only telling you this so you know the right person to kill when they message back!”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
I shoved the letters back into my mailbox and sprinted to the dressing room. Gallagher was the last player I wanted pretending to be me.
The Greenwich mystery remained unsolved, but I could tackle that later.
It probably wasn’t anything important anyway.
I made it home an hour later, after I wrestled the phone out of Gallagher’s hands and forced Adil to deactivate my Konnect profile. I didn’t have energy left to double back to the mailroom, so the admin team would have to wait an extra day for me to clear my cubby out.
The faint strains of piano music greeted me when I entered the house. Evie had been practicing daily for her upcoming recital.
I was on my way to see her when I spotted Carina curled up in the den, watching some sort of penguin movie.
I stopped. She was so engrossed in the film that she didn’t notice my presence, and I allowed myself a brief second—just a second—to drink her in.
I’d gotten used to having her around the house, but I’d never get used to the little gut punch I felt whenever I saw her. Every detail seemed impossibly vivid—the elegant curve of her cheekbones, the soft lushness of her mouth, the way her raven-colored hair caught hints of dark brown in certain lighting.
I grimaced the instant the thought crossed my mind. What the fuck was I doing, waxing poetic about Carina’s hair? Even the dinosaur erotica novels Adil made us read for book club weren’t so cheesy.
I stepped into the room right as Carina turned her head. Her eyes widened.
“I swear I’m not neglecting Evie to watch TV” were the first words out of her mouth. “She didn’t want me hovering while she practiced. She said it makes her nervous.”
