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Evie

I don't have a future in sports. It's a pity because I have a rough idea of how much Wild makes. It's enough money to have a real-life basketball court on his property. I can't wrap my head around the sum required to buy a property, furnish it, and then drop a basketball court on it.

I ’ m also not going to think about Wild getting traded. AGAIN.

"How did you go from being unable to spell basketball to playing like a pro?" Rowan Gardner, or Ro as we call her, pulls her socks over her padded knee.

We ’ re in restrooms near the swimming pool at Wild ’ s North Carolina mansion, getting ready for a pickup game.

Sisi came up with the idea of the family gathering for special occasions, and the brothers championed it. Then Wild threw in a pickup game. It could be any sport, but we mostly shifted between Wild's basketball and Ro's football.

With my older half-brother Charlie, Wild's best friend, I have a standing invitation to these pickup games slash family gatherings.

"Hanging out with Wild made me a pro by osmosis.” I smooth my jersey over my hips. “ Sisi couldn ’ t make it?”

Ro shakes her head. “ She ’ s too busy enjoying married bliss.”

Sisi and Ro Gardner are Carla's children from her first marriage. Rhys, Jaxon, Wilder, and Asa Carrington are Carla's sister, Amelia's children. Wild NEVER talks about his biological mother, but she ’ s still news in their hometown, Charity. Wild ’ s father died, and then his mother, Amelia, transferred guardianship of the children to Carla and disappeared.

When Carla and Will married, they adopted all the children into one happy family. It's not happy like the dinner I attended at the Langford mansion that left me constipated. I mean H-A-P-P-Y.

“ No Sisi, Jax, Rhys, or Asa. Or even Mom and Dad. This should be the driest game ever.”

She ’ s not wrong.

A house-quaking knock sounds on the door. "Ro, don't waste our time dressing up. You ’ re not playing,"Wild shouts from the other side of the door.

"I can either play a spot-up shooter or ref the game,” Ro calls back. “ Choose one.”

Tough choice. Our eyes meet, and Ro has a hand over her mouth to hold in her laughter. Sisi is our usual ref. Our heavily, unapologetically biased ref.

The guys have been feeling smug about her absence. They have a high chance of finally winning a game with Ro injured and Sisi unavailable.

Ro has never refereed a game, and as a dedicated professional athlete, I don ’ t see her sacrificing the ‘ integrity ’ of the game with heavy bias like her sister.

If I ’ m Wild, I will let Ro ref the game.

“ We don ’ t want you aggravating that injury.”

I roll my eyes at Wild ’ s solicitous tone. Not that he doesn ’ t care about his sister, but he ’ s laying it on too thick.

“ Stand by the sidelines and ref the game,” he offers sweetly.

Ro winks at me. “ Thank you,” she called back just as sweetly.

“ You ’ re wicked,” I say, guessing she will make Wild regret his choice.

I leave her and run into Wild, waiting impatiently on the other side. Wilder Carrington, basketball star, and all six feet five inches of his muscled superstar athlete body has his hands full with a bag of peanut M&Ms. He hands me the bag, eyes shifting to the door I make sure to shut behind me.

His eyes do a slow sweep over my outfit. I have new sneakers on, and my jersey is Wild's shirt number 20 with my name on it. I have hundreds of them since Wild is a walking sports store. Socks, a headband, and a wristband complete the look.

I look great, and I know it.

Wild smirks. "Dressed to the nines to lose, huh? At least Sisi's not here wearing those ridiculous boots.”He sounds so disgusted it would have been funny if he wasn't right.

"Sweating is already asking too much, so I don't see why you shouldn't look good doing it." I parrot Sisi's words and watch his reaction with interest.

He scowls.

Fourteen years in the league, seven clubs during that time, and many off-field issues may have given the media and fans the wrong impression of Wild, but I know he breathes and eats basketball. The man was born to play the game.

Now, he crunches more peanuts and scowls harder, giving my comment more thought than it warrants. I hide my smile and move to walk past him. But he shoots his arm out to stop me. I overextend, and my forward momentum has me pitching over.

"Sorry," he grunts.

Holding my waist firmly, he sets me back on my feet like I weigh nothing. Yep, there are advantages to being a giant.

"You don't agree with that nonsense, do you?"

I widen my eyes innocently. "I'm not sure—"

"She's going to break her neck one day wearing that contraption!"Wild explodes.

Wild is the founding father of 'traditional'hoopers. In basketball terms, they're old-timers who appreciate 'pure'basketball, love defense over offense and despise the new trend of the high-octane offense in the league. Some fanatics like Wild even get worked up over the old argument during a pickup game. A. Pick. Up. Game.

"I don't care what she thinks,"he begins earnestly, like a business owner trying to win over an investor. "But I can't have you moving over to that side.”

So, there's a side. I lower my eyes to hide my expression. "But it's not a big deal—"

"It is! If Sisi won't show enough respect for the game, she shouldn't play."

My brother, Charlie, appears from the direction of the men's changing rooms, shaking his head. "How do you fall for this same argument every single time? Sisi isn ’ t even here.”

He looks my outfit over, and I get a condescending smirk like Wild gave me a minute ago. "You ladies just dress up to lose."

Wild laughs. "It ’ s like the more they dress up, the worse they'll lose."

"We're not losing," I tell them.

“ Sisi ’ s not here,” Charlie says.

“ Jax, Rhys, and Asa aren ’ t here either,” I remind them.

Charlie shrugs. “ If I can just keep Kristyn from playing, that ’ s a win for me.”

Kristyn is my pregnant best friend and my brother ’ s wife, and there ’ s no way he can stop her from playing.

Wild smirks. “ We ’ re definitely winning today.”

We leave the changing rooms for the court, where Kristyn is already waiting. My pregnant best friend is glorious in a sporty dress, new sneakers, a headband, and a basketball tucked into her elbow.

Charlie is speechless. For a second.

“ You ’ re not playing,” he declares.

"I'm playing," Kristyn warns her husband.

My beloved brother —not half-brother because we're so close that the 'step'part has long ceased to exist— already has sweat pouring down from his hairline, and the game hasn't even started.

He looks to Wild for help.

Wild takes Kristyn ’ s hand, trying for sweet and cloying. “ You look too good to sweat. Why not ref with Ro?”

“ We can ’ t have two refs.” Kristyn, who knows nothing about sports, is lecturing the professional.

“ We can have two refs,” I say, coming to Wild ’ s rescue.

Kristyn glares at me for my betrayal. “ I ’ m playing.”

I give Wild a shrug that says, I tried. He turns and offers the same shrug to Charlie. Charlie ’ s shoulders drop.

I have the honor of bringing the ball up the court on the first play. I pass Kristyn the ball. It's an easy pass. Not a pass, more a give. She misses her catch, and Wild is there. I hurry to intercept.

Ro blows the whistle.

The men groan.

"What now?" Wild asks.

Ro shrugs, takes the ball from him, and gives it to me. "I'm the ref, and I say it's a foul.”

“ What!” Wild exclaims. “ That ’ s not a foul.”

I bite down hard on my lower lip to hide a laugh.

I get a light tap on my shoulder. It's Wild. He nods towards Kristyn, who looks brilliant in her sports gown, chatting with her husband like they are on a date.

"This is not a pickup game,"he says.“And then there ’ s my sister, the ref.”

"I can tell Ro to tone it down."

Wild grimaces. “ How is she worse than Sisi?”His eyes narrow on my face, and his whole body goes still. "You alright?"

I nod. It's easier now. My pulse doesn't go out of control these days like scattered bowling balls because he ’ s breathing.

There's no complicated mushiness involved. It's just Wild and me. He likes looking after me and lending his shoulder to cry on when things go wrong. And since I'm the unluckiest woman alive, his shoulder has seen record mileage levels.

I don't know if it's the age gap—eight years—or how we met when a sixteen-year-old boy made a solemn promise to be my bodyguard, but Wild will always be protective towards me.

I try not to take it for granted.

Besides, I ’ m more worried about him after the ‘ we don ’ t need you ’ banner. That had to hurt.

But Wild insists everything is fine.

Of course, everything is fine because he will leave the club and move on to another. Again and again and again.

"You're sure everything's good?" He raises an eyebrow, mischief dancing in his blue eyes. "Even if we end up winning?"

There's this look Wild has for me. Just me. I can't describe it. It's not love—I'm far from my delusional eighteen-year-old self, thank God. It's just...more.

He's giving me that look now, eager to hear my answer. "Who do you think is the best player on a basketball court?"I ask.

"The person who scores the most points,"Charlie answers.

"The ref,” I counter.

Charlie looks nonplussed. Wild is impressed.

Play restarts, and Ro is even worse in her bias. If the men breathe near any of us, she will immediately blow the whistle for a foul. Wild gets too close to Kristyn, and he's thrown out of the game.

Now, it ’ s just my brother up against his pregnant wife and me.

We ’ re so winning this.

I drive forward with the basketball and find Charlie blocking my way. He has both hands raised, a wall of space between us, and eyes filled with alarm, dreading Ro's whistle.

Wild is on the sidelines, calling out encouragements and instructions.

If I weren't so intent on scoring, I would laugh till I piss my pants.

“ Pass the ball,” Kristyn whines. “ I haven ’ t touched the ball all day.”

“ No!” Charlie begs me with his eyes. “ I will give you anything you want. Just don ’ t give her that ball.”

“ I can hear you, husband,” Kristyn accuses.

I brush past Charlie, who has his eyes on Kristyn, not the ball. He shifts left and sends me to the ground. I fall too hard and wince.

Wild is instantly by my side. I try stretching my leg, but I feel a twinge. Thank goodness tomorrow is Sunday. I can't imagine playing dinosaurs at the preschool on sore knees.

"Evie,"Wild says. He stops with his hand hovering over my leg, frowning too fiercely for something that's likely a simple strain.

"Evie Cassandra, look at me."

"I'm alright."I pat his shoulders.

Ro points at Charlie. "You're banned forever. No more pickup games for you."

"Please add my wife to the banned list,"Charlie mutters.

"Won't happen since I have enough sense not to play rough,"Kristyn replies. Then, to Ro, “ If you ban Charlie, there will be no one to play against.”

“ You're banned forever after this game. No more pickup games for you after this game.” Ro points at Wild. "Take her to get ice on it.”

"Can I?"WiId asks me, eyes a darker blue with worry.

I nod.

And he lifts me in one go. The casual display of strength makes my breathing hitch. I turn to wave to the others as my train leaves. "Win for me!"

"You bet!"Kristyn replies, drawing a groan from Charlie.

In the house, Wild sits me on the couch and stands, studying me with his hands on his hips.

"What?" I ask.

He turns away without answering to get ice. I hiss at the initial contact, and he pats my foot absently.

I look around, proud of my interior decorating skills. The house is big and quiet and barely lived in. I tried to give it a comfortable, homely feel by using warm colors, deep couches, rugs, plants, and interesting artwork.

I want Wild to have a home to return to during the off-season.

It worked because I love, love his place.

"Where did you get this?"He points at a cut on my toe.

"I got it playing barefoot at the preschool."I laugh at the memory. "Didn't know that tiny toe can hold that much blood..."I trail off at his grimace.

"It's not funny,"he complains.

Yeah, two years in Philly hasn't toned down Wild's protectiveness. It's stupid, but I feel relieved. And happy.

While it's true Wild has done nothing but live up to his nickname—Wildman—I adore him the way he is. And I mean 'adore'without the 'feels.'Like you adore a dear friend.

I was eight years old the first time we met. I had had another fight with my half-sister, Sarah, and Mrs. Langford took her side. Father was preparing to travel to our vacation home in Charity for his two-week yearly visit with Charlie, born years before he married my stepmom.

Mrs. Langford had decided I needed a vacation. When we got to Charity, father and son left for dinner, leaving me with a giant Charlie swore, 'I trust with my own life.'

Wild was already three inches over six feet at sixteen and set for the big leagues.

At the last second, Charlie turned to Wild. "Please take care of her till I return."

"I will."

It was late, and I should be in bed by 8:00 pm and not a second before. It didn't matter that Mrs. Langford wasn't there to ensure I obeyed. It had never occurred to me to rebel.

"Good night,"I said and moved past him.

"Do you know how to climb trees?"he asked.

I frowned. "It's not proper behavior for a lady."

He looked shocked, and then he smiled. "What if a million rats suddenly take over this place?"

I considered the idea. "That's not possible."

"I said what if. It won't happen in real life, but—"

"I understand."Mrs. Langford said never to interrupt when someone's talking, but he couldn't know that. "Okay."

He told me his name as we walked to the back of the property.

"How tall are you?"I asked.

"Is it proper behavior to ask personal questions?"

"No."I shook my head. "I ’ m sorry.”

“ I guess you can ask if you know the person well."

“ We don ’ t know each other well,” I reminded him.

“ I ’ m your brother ’ s best friend. Doesn ’ t that make me a family friend?”

I nodded.

His legs were very long, but he climbed the tree quickly. I failed three times before he offered to carry me on his back. We sat on a low branch, and I could see everything. The mountains felt close enough to touch. I swung my legs back and forth.

"I want to learn how to climb trees."

"If you tell me why you were crying."

And I told him everything about Sarah, Mrs. Langford, and how I hated living in that mansion. I didn't tell him about my mother.

"I don't have anyone. Sarah has everyone supporting her."

"You have Charlie.”

“ We ’ ve only just met.”

“ He loves you very much but isn't allowed to see you."

I knew Mrs. Langford wouldn't allow it. "If I get lost, no one will look for me."

"You have me,"he said. "You won't get lost because I'll follow you everywhere."

"Like a bodyguard?"I asked.

"Like a bodyguard,"he vowed.

And we have been that way ever since. It didn't help that Charlie used Wild as a substitute elder brother. He would have Wild fill in for him if he made a promise he couldn't keep.

We are adults now. Our dynamics ought to have changed.

It almost snapped after THE CONFESSION. I was eighteen years old, and I wanted to die three times over when Wild rejected me. Think breakup songs and teenage angst dialed up to a hundred.

Afterward, I avoided him, but he wouldn't allow it. His persistence ultimately won, and we reverted to our old dynamic.

Nothing could break us. Not even old girlfriends. Or, in my case, fiancé.

I eavesdropped on his conversation with an old girlfriend once.

"Is that her?"she had asked.

"Who?" Wild asked.

The stunning blond was the only woman he had seriously dated. He even brought her to a pickup game. My stomach filled with dread. Stupid.

"Evie. You said she's very important to you."

"Yes."

And later, when we ran out of ice cream, he handed me the last one, even if his date had wanted one. It didn't mean anything but...feelings.

"Why are you smiling?"present Wild asks me.

“ Nothing."

Kristyn walks into the house with Charlie dogging her heels. My best friend is accusing her husband of deliberately throwing the game.

Wild takes my hand and brings it down to hold the ice pack over my knee. “ I will be back in a minute. Let me get Ro.”

Charlie roughens my hair like I'm eight, not twenty-six. I retaliate by pinching his side hard. "You're mean,"he accuses.

"You're meaner. Don't touch my hair."

"Do you need a lift?” he asks.

I look to Wild just as he walks in carrying his sister bridal style. Ro doesn ’ t look happy to be logged about by her brother.

I smile.

"Lose that look,"Charlie warns, his voice low. "Wild is my best friend, but he can't give you what you want."

I tip my head back to watch my brother fuss over his wife, wrapping a shawl she hates over her shoulders. "I know. Stop worrying."

You will think having won this round, Charlie will take a hint. "Evie,"he says in a too loud voice. "Rob is only two years older than you and very nice."

I plug both ears with my fingers. "You're the last person I'm taking dating suggestions from."

"And who's in the best position to give dating and marriage advice if not someone happily married with a very content wife—"

Kristyn gives him a shove. "Let's go."

But Charlie wouldn't budge. "Not until you tell her how happy I make you."

"So you can set her up with your assistant?"Kristyn scoffs at the idea.

I widen my eyes. When did we stop liking Rob?

"Rob is great,"Charlie says. "You like him,"he reminds his wife.

"Rob is more than great, but I can't see him with Evie,"Kristyn insists. “So, forget about starting your own dating podcast."

"Wouldn't be a bad idea,"Charlie mutters. "Rob ’ s better than that fool, at least. If she had listened to me, she never would have gone out with—"

Another shove gets him moving.

Kristyn's goodbye hug is a comfort. "Chat later?"

"Sure."

It's hard when everyone knows how you feel or used to feel about someone. The story of my marriage proposal to Wild at age eight, wearing Charlie's t-shirt as a makeshift wedding dress, is something we now joke about. Thank God Charlie doesn't know about THE CONFESSION.

Wild didn't tell him. He didn'ttell anyone.

"Evie?"Ro calls. “ Let me drop you off.”

“ You ’ ve been on your feet all day.”

“ I can walk.” She glares at her brother. “ It ’ s all the other interesting things I dare not do.” Ro looks down at her legs in betrayal.

"I will take her home,"Wild says.