Page 5
Wild
The event organizers have gone all out. Ro makes an appreciative noise. I give her hand an understanding squeeze, mindful of the rings on her fingers. Two men stand by the great doors in front of the mansion. Camera flashes, and light wash over us when the doors open.
Inside, the glorious sight of what looks like millions of lit candles greets us. It's a lot, but it works. I can't help thinking of the staff keeping each candle lit throughout the evening.
Ro makes another appreciative sound.
"Wow," I say, taking it all in. Evie would go crazy over this. I can almost feel her giddiness.
"What has you smiling like that?" Ro asks.
I chuckle, thinking of Evie's shy wave. Shifting my attention to my date and the well-dressed guests, I nudge us forward. “ Don ’ t talk to me. I ’ ve not forgiven you for how you reffed the game.”
“ It ’ s just a pickup game," Ro reminds me.
“ A game is a game,” I mutter under my breath. “ How ’ s the leg?”
“ Pain gone, swelling gone, and recovering quickly.” Ro ’ s lower lip juts out. “ But I may have lost my starting spot.”
“ You will get it back.”
She shakes her head. “ You don ’ t understand. My coach hates me.”
“ He gave you your starting spot. He can ’ t hate you.”
Mrs. Langford steps forward with a smile so gracious she looks unrecognizable. My jaw clenches. Evie worked herself to the bone to get one of these smiles she bestows so carelessly.
Evie ’ s stepmother inclines her head in a tiny, grudging nod. Looking at us, no one will believe we ’ ve known each other for decades.
Her smile shifts to my sister, from her hair down to her beautiful dress to her latest release sneakers.
The smile disappears.
“ Uh-oh,” Ro whispers. “ I think she ’ s about to call security on me.”
“ She wouldn ’ t dare.”
The evening isn't a bore by any standards. I make donations. Make sure Ro is doing more sitting than walking. Meet businesspeople. Check on Ro.
Half the conversations fly over my head. I would rather be stuck in Brandon Sanderson's universe, truly. But after last week, I need to do enough to put a smile on Richard ’ s face. I ’ ve heard and seen agents destroy their players ’ careers. I know I ’ m lucky to have Richard.
After an hour, the physical labor starts catching up to me.
I lean against the wall, idly sipping champagne, when I see a flash of red. A wave of familiarity washes over me. I straighten, eyes peeled out for the lady in the red dress.
I don't see her again.
I run into five former teammates, and we ramble about the coming season. The problem with not committing to one club is having too many former teammates. Ro comes over, and their eyes quicken with interest. I'm giving them the stink eye when I spot the red dress.
The wall of suited men around her part, and I stiffen. That's Evie. Ro nudges me. The men follow my eyes to Evie, and I watch their jaws drop. Anger coils into the pit of my stomach.
"Isn't that Evie?" Ro asks.
The guys are talking about her, and it's all I can hear. Evie is nodding at whatever the man at her side is saying. She spots me, and her smile grows bigger.
I watch her walk over, and I can't reconcile the woman in the provocative red dress sashaying towards me with the one crying and laughing over her new porch. The anger in the pit of my stomach expands.
My former teammates part like the Red Sea for her. She greets Ro first. With her hair up in a bun and the curls framing her face, she's stunning.
Finally, Evie turns to me. Her makeup is mild, and her earrings tasteful. But the dress… "What are you wearing? Does your brother know you're here?"
My words come out in a loud growl. It's like dousing cold water onto a great fire. A prolonged hissing sound follows the quiet. It's almost ominous. Everyone's looking at me like I've lost my head. Evie looks...I don't know.
Why is Ro looking at me like that?
"You're beautiful," Ro tells Evie. "It's not just the dress. You're classy. I want to be like you when I grow up.”
I jerk on my necktie. The ballroom is suddenly stifling. The guys make their introductions themselves. Their smiles are too friendly. I know them. They have women waiting in every hotel. They aren't fit to meet Evie, let alone shake her hand.
"Can I talk to you?" I lean down to whisper to Evie, catching a whiff of her perfume.
Her brown eyes are wary, but she nods her assent. Ro is disapproving. I follow Evie to the terrace. The light picks out the natural shine of her skin. She draws stares, and I want to cover their eyes.
I'm questioning my reaction in the back of my mind, but I can't help it.
The dress is very decent. It's just...it's Evie.
She stops to look out at the night sky. I follow her gaze. The stars are out. It's a beautiful night. My anger recedes like a punctured balloon. But it isn't entirely gone.
I look down at her. "Evie—"
"What am I wearing?" She holds her arms out. "It's a dress."
I can't look. I fix my eyes on a point above her shoulder.
"And does my brother..." Evie rubs her forehead like she's praying for patience. "Does my brother...what does he have to do with my evening?"
That finally unlocks my power of speech. "You shouldn't be here alone. He should—"
"Be with his pregnant, beautiful wife where he belongs."
"That's not the point," I say.
"What's the point then?"
"You shouldn't be here alone smiling at all those men—"
"Your teammates?" she asks pointedly.
"Ex-teammates.”
“ But you once shared a locker room with them.”
“ Yes, but we are not friends.”
“ Why?”
Because the temporary new guy is afraid of connections and the expectations that go with it. “ You don't even know them.”
"Do I have to know them?"
"No!" No? "Yes!"
Her eyes shine with an inner laugh. Does she find this funny? "I'm serious."
She leans against the railing. "You're afraid someone's going to bundle me into a burlap sack and whisk me away?"
"That's not it." My head's a mess. "I can't help looking out for you. I don't want to be distracted worrying about you."
"And you don't have to be." She opens her purse—a tiny thing big enough to hold only her phone. "I made this."
The anticipation in her eyes erases the last of my anger. I'm curious to see what she made. She drops it into my palm, and I look down. Every cell in my body freezes. It's a bracelet made from beads. Exactly like the one I lost. Okay, not exactly. It's crude, lacking Aunt Mae's mastery, but it's a bracelet.
"How did you..." I'm lost for words.
"You like it?" She smiles shyly. "I watched like a thousand videos. Aunt Mae should charge more per piece.”
The woman who helped look after us as children isn ’ t much of a businesswoman. She ’ s more likely to gift things away than sell for a profit.
"Thank you." I put it on. I love it.
"Wild?"
Her tone is serious—a warning in itself. I nod for her to continue.
"I love that you look out for me. I appreciate it a lot."
I raise an eyebrow. "But..."
"No buts," she admits.
"No buts?"
"Just an ellipsis. I'm twenty-six, not eight. How does it look to other people?
The music from the ballroom spills onto the terrace. I take her hand and lead her out to the sprinklers. Her hand is small and delicate in mine. I can't do anything about the urge to protect her. I'm happy there are no 'buts' for her.
“ Ro sees you as family. And I don't care what other people think."
I sound like an echo of one of those television characters about to do something foolish. There's a niggle at the back of my throat. It's a feeling I get, a warning I've made the wrong play even before the ball leaves my hands.
But with her gift around my wrist, I don't give it too much thought.
I'm admiring my bracelet when a wall of water hits my face. Shock holds me immobile. I blink the water from my lashes and gape at Evie. She has her gown up her knee, all set to run for her life.
"You splashed me," I accuse, unable to believe Miss Proper Behavior had done such a thing.
"You implied something's wrong with my dress," she counters. "Just take it as payback."
“Payback?" I repeat like it's a foreign language.
"Payback."
"You mean like this." I cup a handful of water and spray her.
We run around the sprinklers like children, spraying each other and laughing. It's ridiculous. We're ridiculous.
Roughly five minutes later, Evie stops, her chest heaving with desperate breaths. "Didn't you say something about not wanting to be distracted?"
"I want my payback. You splashed me last."
Evie shakes her head in wonder. "So petty. What will your precious fans think?"
Fans. I snap to attention. Her dress is wet and clinging to her. I don't need a mirror to know I'm even worse. "The cameras."
Her eyes go wide. "Mrs. Langford. How are we getting out of here?"
Minutes later, Ro's driving us home. I can tell from her smile it's been a good night for her.
"These events are wasted on you," she tells me.
"Wild really hates them. Well, it's wearing a tie he hates, not the champagne," Evie explains from the backseat.
"And you?" Ro asks. "Do you like them?"
Evie shrugs. "It's like work for me. Something you have to do, you know."
They smile at each other in the mirror. Ro ’ s eyes snap at me. "Some people are too rich to care about work."
When we drop Evie off, she's effusive in her thanks to Ro. I wait until she shuts the front door behind her. The porch looks great. It just needs a coat of paint. The whole house could do with a coat of paint.
After being so chatty with Evie, Ro is silent for the rest of the drive. She doesn't get out when we stop in front of my gates. She stares at me.
"Stop staring. I won't catch a cold."
"I couldn't care less if you get the flu, but I bet Evie will be devastated."
I need sleep. “ You have an appointment with the physios tomorrow."
"You look after her," she continues, talking over me. "She's important to you."
"Yes."
"You love her."
I sigh. "She's eight years my junior. I've looked after her since she was a child. You're imagining things."
"Am I?"
"Yes."
"I'm not," she insists.
The worrying niggle returns as I'm preparing for bed. Am I being too much? But Evie says she likes it and appreciates it.
I finger my bracelet.
It's good that she likes it because I can't be any other way with her. I can't stop myself. My heart gives a jolt at the realization.
Why can't I stop myself?
This is me and Evie. I shouldn't have to stop myself or think of the whys and hows. We're us.
Still, I type out a text.
Wild : I'm sorry if I was being too much.
I give the text a forward and backward read. Something's missing.
Wild: Thanks for the bracelet. I know you feel the urge to repay me for the porch. You don't have to repay me anything. I hate it.
I send it.
Wild: I may have been too much tonight. I apologize. You looked beautiful.
I read the message three times, then deleted the beautiful part. It sounds wrong.
I put the phone away. I'm definitely not checking my phone for a reply. I'm watching playoff highlights on my iPad when Evie texts back.
Evie: It's a gift, not repayment.
Seconds later, I get another text.
Evie: I accept your apology.
Then I put my phone away and fall into the warm hands of sleep.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5 (Reading here)
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42