Page 11

Ten

JAXON

I keep squeezing the stress ball in my hand.

Knox’s place is minimal, which is normal for him, but he’s on the same floor as Hope, which is the only reason we’re here.

He has a small couch, a recliner, a wobbly coffee table with some folded mail stuffed under the problem leg.

A coffee maker and microwave are the only things on the counter in his kitchen.

He doesn’t have pictures on the wall, no little knickknacks or mementos.

Everything is put away, everything has a place, and it always belongs there. He’s a stickler about that.

I glance over at him as he finishes his beer and sets the still sweating can on a coaster as if the worn, used table is worth protecting.

He shakes his head, just as confused as we are.

Dimitri’s nursing his beer, still befuddled, and something hot and frustrated keeps teasing my nerves.

I hate feeling like I’ve missed something, and Hope calling her father a ‘monster’ feels like I’m missing something huge.

“What was that about?” Knox finally asks.

He’s been the most protective of our old coach. He’s the one who reached out and told him that we accepted the offer here because of Hope. Coach has his problems, problems I’m surprised Knox has always been willing to ignore.

But we all have problems, so who am I to judge?

My eyes flick to Knox’s basic black curtains that keep the light from coming in. I rub my jaw. I want to have an answer for him. I want to have an answer for the panic that nearly dropped her at the field, but I don’t understand.

The curtains, the warm yellow lights, the tan carpet—none of it is giving me answers, no matter how long I stare at them.

But Hope… that bite to her, the look on her face when Knox mentioned her dad, the way she called him a monster. We’d all thought she was just an eager, dirty slut, determined to get whatever she could from whoever she could.

No one at school would date her, so she looked a little closer to home and never said no when someone presented an option .

We were obviously a better option compared to the old man, but now… calling him a monster reminds me of that conversation I overheard back when I was at Dimitri’s one day. His dad had said something about Hope coming to the police station and spreading lies.

We’d snorted and assumed she was just wanting more attention. That she wanted to play the victim.

Her face today, the mix of fear and rage, the humiliation, the everything I used to find attractive about her has me second-guessing some shit.

But she never told him to stop. She never screamed. She never fought. She just laid there. Right? Or is that what I wanted to see? My brain is swirling.

“We all saw the videos. She never told him to stop,” I say even though it sounds more like a question, trying to remember better.

Of course, the idea of an old man showing us him fucking his daughter is fucked up.

Does it matter whether she was into it? Isn’t it still wrong? I don’t know what to believe.

“She did a few times,” Dimitri murmurs.

“Yeah, and then she moved with him.” Knox huffs and takes another sip from his drink.

Maybe I should feel sorry for her. Little Hope who always looked a little too ashamed but never said anything. Hope who was always there, who had Coach as a dad, and while Coach liked alcohol too much and his daughter a whole lot more than he should, he was a good guy to us.

And if he was good to us …

Fuck, why is this so complicated? I don’t want to dive into this. I don’t want to believe that she didn’t want it. I don’t want to think about what it makes me if she was just silent and didn’t want us. I don’t want to think what it makes us if she was never willing.

I run my hand through my hair and look over at Dimitri. He doesn’t look bothered at all. He doesn’t look like he has any regrets. In fact, he looks pleased with himself. I arch an eyebrow, then he smirks. “Showed her my dick today.”

Knox snorts. “Of course you did.”

“Shame it didn’t get any action. Like you said, Jax, she’s different, though. She was professional, but it was like she wasn’t all there,” he comments.

Also, not a good sign based on shit I’ve seen. I take another drink of my beer, finishing it.

“More in the fridge,” Knox says.

Instead, I get water. There’s a bad taste in my mouth that I need to clean out. I shake my head in the kitchen. I need to focus on what I can control. The past is the past and I can’t change shit about it.

But the past. That night with Hope. Her soft little moans, her whimpers, the way she took all three of us. That I can’t forget. My whole body reacts to it. Nothing and no one has ever gotten me as worked up as Hope.

I thought she was fine as hell the first time I saw her, then accepted she was off limits because she was Coach’s daughter.

I’d been chomping at the bit wanting her, but telling myself no.

It was easier to bully her, to make her small and less desirable.

Bullying was better than fucking, right?

After discovering she was an eager, naughty whore, everything changed.

I fisted my cock too many times thinking of her, then having her… only getting her once… it’s stayed in my mind, lingered there, steadily driving me insane.

Taking a slow breath, I peek over at Knox.

He’s still frustrated, but the bloodlust is gone from his eyes.

Taking out guys at practice did him some good.

But he’s restless. I feel it, see him holding his knee so his leg doesn’t bounce.

I share a look with Dimitri and see he’s just as horny as I expect him to be after not getting action despite getting hard. I’m in the same boat.

“You still have that video?” I finally ask Knox, lowering my voice.

Tension and desire fill the air. We all want Hope. We’ve wanted her nonstop. It hasn’t changed. She’s just been out of reach. She disappeared after our fun. She managed to slink around school where we couldn’t find her, and she didn’t walk when she graduated.

Being able to see her, to touch her, to get close to having her but not being able to dive into her is driving us all insane.

We need to get some kind of release, some kind of satisfaction or we’re going to lose our minds.

Being unfocused on the field won’t do anyone any good.

Even if watching her isn’t as good as touching her, it’s something.

Knox pulls out his phone. “Of course I do.”

KNOX

After the guys leave, I clean up, then just sit on my couch. I run my hand through my hair. I don’t want to think at all, but definitely not about this mess.

Things with Hope have always been simple. Work her up, tease her, enjoy her reactions, drag everything out until the tension is unbearable, then have her. That’s the plan I’ve had. Granted, I wasn’t ever going to go easy on her.

She left. She left us, and after I spent so much time laying the groundwork. Sure, I was rough with her, but that’s what affection is. It’s rough. Plus, she was letting her dad fuck her. She kept pushing me away when I wanted her. I ached for her.

I was sure that her sweetness would balance me out and make everything bearable. Instead, she runs. She fucking runs after giving me a damn good night. Even if I didn’t show it, I liked having her around.

There has always been something innocent about her, something soft and approachable, something warm, something I want to break and ruin.

That’s what happened to me. I hated every second of it, but if I’m there to hold her hand through it, to collar her throat, her hair, all of it, she’ll understand .

Soft and sweet isn’t something I’m capable of. I’ve proven that with plenty of partners, but for Hope…

I snort. She shot herself in the foot by leaving us. She really thought we would give up the hunt for her? That we wouldn’t drag her back? She’s ours . Her dad doesn’t get to have her again. I don’t want his hands on her, but my hands, Jax’s hands, Dimitri’s hands… She belongs to us.

She can’t push us away anymore. We’re here to stay, and she’s going to learn that we don’t let go easily. None of us have forgotten, and no amount of fucking other women, building ourselves up, working out in the gym, can make us forget the best night of our lives.

We got the girl we wanted and her moans still live in my head. I can see her watery eyes as she takes all three of us, her hips lifting as she meets every thrust, can see the hesitation but ecstasy in her eyes.

She’d begged us with her gaze. She’d ached for us too, been so hot and wet and perfect. Her touches, so light and… the marks on her…

I take off my shirt now that the guys are gone and run my fingers over the scars all over my body. I take a breath and shake my head. “We’re all scarred, sweetheart. Some are just more visible than others.”

Not that I’m going to let her see my scars, see my past pain.

She’ll pity me, want to fucking take care of me, and that’s not what I want.

I want her to crave me, to be my eager, panting little slut.

I want her moaning for me, addicted to my cock.

I want her pulling me toward her, letting me take control .

She’s mine and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that, even if it means fighting people off. Even if it means she’s a little uncomfortable, even if it means punishing her for disappearing on me.