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“Maybe another time,” I simply reply to the owner. “Might want to get our captain something before he goes Hulk on this place. Sounds like he’s getting hangry.”

Berkley coughs to hide his laugh, scratching his neck and darting his eyes toward the railing that looks out over the bottom floor of the club. I’m sure they all know whatever is going on between Clarkson and Belle, and I’m sure as hell not getting in the middle of it.

When she leaves, it takes a few long stretches of silence before Clarkson slides out of the booth and disappears down the stairs behind her. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where he’s headed. Or, specifically, who he’s heading to see.

Berkley lifts his drink and takes a sip before saying, “Belle is his stepsister.”

My brows dart up my forehead at the unexpected piece of information. “Are they…close?”

Moskins chokes on whatever colorful concoction he ordered. “You could say that. None of us really know how close they are, though.”

“Or how close they’ve gotten,” Isaac Nelson, our other starting defense muses from his side of the table.

“But,” Moskins continues, “he’s territorial over her. The situation is complicated. I’d steer clear. She likes to flirt with all of us. We mostly return the favor to see what Cap will do. Unfortunately, he normally grunts and stays silent.”

“No fun,” Berkley agrees.

I find myself smirking at their theatrics. My old team used to do that to each other when we were into people. Badger would hassle me over Olive more times than I could count. When I graduated, I wondered if he would make a move the second I was gone. The thought makes my fingers twitch around my scotch glass.

“Well, you don’t have anything to worry about on my end,” I tell them.

“Got somebody taking up all your energy at home?” Miller asks, his curiosity drawing the attention of the others like they also want to know what my deal is.

I haven’t been seen with women when we’ve been leaving stadiums. Nobody has captured me escorting anybody in or out of my apartment building in the center of the city or the hotels we stay at when we’re traveling. I keep to myself as much as possible because I’ve got too much going for me to fuck up over of a mindless lay.

I guess I’m as much of a mystery to them as they are to me.

I lean back, draping an arm on the back of the booth. “Who says I only have one person taking up my energy, Smithy?”

It’s not untrue. Between Mom and Olive, I’ve got enough women in my life to keep me busy for a long while. They just take up my energy for very different reasons.

Miller’s head cocks, trying to gauge whether he believes me or not. Some of the guys smack me in amusement, others grin wryly like they enjoy the perks of our job as much as I’m implying I do. The women. The attention. It’s nice at times, I can’t deny that. But the easy sex isn’t high on my priority list like it seems to be for some of the others. Have I indulged? Yeah. At Lindon, the guys at the frat house said I should consider charging the girls that stayed the night in my room a fee since there were frequent visitors. That died down when Olive and I got involved because she proved to be more worth my while than any of those others combined. I could talk game with her, banter and get it dished back. She wasn’t like the others, and I liked it.

Way too much.

But now my time is better spent training, working out, and focusing on things beyond how to get off when I need relief. My hand does the trick just fine when I feel pent up.

For the rest of the night, I nurse my drink, order one more, and then cut myself off. I know what repercussions will happen if I don’t.

One other server comes upstairs while Belle is otherwise occupied, presumably with our captain after he disappeared, and she doesn’t hide the hungry look she gives more than one of us as she passes out food and drink refills. Her tits are on full display in the deep cut of her tight dress and her lips are thick and painted with the type of invitation any of us would probably accept in a heartbeat if she made the first move. I sure as hell would if I decide to down another scotch.

Something feels off, though.

And whatever that inkling is rising in the pit of my stomach has me unsettled. “I think I’m going to head out,” I tell the guys, tapping Berkley to move so I can slide out of the booth.

“You good?” he asks.

I lift a shoulder. “Beat. That’s all.”

Whether he buys it or not is beyond me. I slap his hand and wave a few of the guys off, heading down the stairs and toward the back exit that we came in earlier. The alleyway the door leads out is dark, with only a single small light lit as the door clicks closed behind me.

I pull out my phone when it vibrates in my pocket with the false hope that Olive’s name will be displayed across the screen.

Instead, dread drops my stomach when I see Logan Hospital’s number on it.

“Alex speaking,” I answer, trying to even my tone. I know if the hospital is calling, it’s probably not a good sign.

“Alex, it’s Pam,” the head nurse greets. Despite her calm voice, I know she’s not calling to make small talk.