Page 92 of Falling for the Orc All-Star

The hungry monsters on the hunt. “I think I should take his place.”

Coach looks at me, a protest on his lips. “I...”

I talk under him, not over him. Coach Torrey never responds to yelling, so I make my voice lower and grittier, more feral. “I think Ishould take his place. No one touches Jorge. Or anyone on this team. Not tonight. Not again.”

Coach coughs. “You might be risking your knee, son. Light duty. A few minutes of play here and there, building up. We just started.”

I look at the opposing bench, eyes narrowed. “Well, I wanna finish.”

Chapter Twenty-Six: Ingrid and King

“Dillon wants King’s autograph.”

I look at my cellphone suspiciously. “Mom?”

“Yes, silly. Dillon wants King’s autograph. He says it’s going to be worth a ton of money one day.”

“I don’t know about that, but I’m sure I can send an autographed picture to Dillon.”

“Good. I have to say, I’ve only met King twice, but he’s a sweetheart. And when I saw the pictures Dillon sent me, I was so touched.”

“Pictures?”

“Hold on, I’ll send them to you.”

King hobbles into the kitchen. “Ice?”

“I’m asking for a chest freezer for our wedding registry, okay?” I dump out two bags of ice into a mixing bowl, then make a pack in a dish towel. “I’m glad you’re moving. Kevin’s going to go apeshit when he sees your knee.”

“It’s fine. Just a little swollen.”

“Not surprised.”

Last night, King scored two goals and put three Phantoms on the bench for injuries. Nothing major, but nothing they could brush off, either. My King was... A machine. A beautiful, terrifying, vengeful machine.

“Is that your mom?”

“It is. She says you’re family famous and Dillon the Dickbrain wants your autograph.”

“Ugh. Is he technically my stepbrother-in-law? I guess I have to.” King downs some aspirin and orange juice, and pulls out his phone. As he does so, a grin spreads over his face, and he blinks rapidly.

“Mom, can I call you back?”

“Of course. I sent the pictures to your email. I never can figure out how to forward them to the—”

“I’ll help you with it later, Mom.” I hang up and hurry to King’s side. “What is it? Your mom? Did she hear about the game and your amazing comeback?”

“No. It’s from Bryce. They’re releasing him this morning with a warning to wear his chest protector, get on a cardiologist’s schedule, and to make sure there is an AED with him at all times. He sent me a picture.” King holds out his phone.

A black and white blur greets me, but it’s unmistakable. The tiny white print on the photo reads “Baby Frobisher. 10 weeks, 2 days.”

The text from Bryce reads, “This is what Fia put in my bag. Got so excited I would have forgotten my head if it wasn’t attached.”

“Oh, God. King, if they hadn’t had an AED there...”

“I would have done CPR until they got there.” King’s jaw is set, and his face closes over.

We won’t talk about it now. I just rub his shoulders and nuzzle his cheek. “My hero. Bryce’s hero.” My phone beeps. “I have an email from Mom. I... Ohhh. Oh, honey, look.”