Page 4

ARES

I t was late afternoon, and I hiked my bag higher on my shoulder as I left the stadium. It was a rare day that practice ended early for some coaching meetings, and I’d thought I could catch up on homework and sleep. I just needed one day where I wasn’t pulled in too many directions.

My phone rang, and I glanced at the screen. All my hopes for having a relaxing night crashed and burned when I saw Mom’s name. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

“Oh, Ares. Thank God you answered. My meeting will be over soon, but not quickly enough. I can’t get out of work yet, and Preston has done it again.”

Dammit. “The school called?” What has my little miscreant nephew done now?

“They did. I’m supposed to go there immediately and talk to his teacher. I don’t know what he’s done other than that he pulled a prank on his teacher. Could you please go to his school and handle it? Then knock some sense into that boy?”

I could hear the frustration and stress in Mom’s voice, and it made my heart clench—for her and Preston.

He was dealing with his pain—but in the wrong way because he was putting way too much on Mom.

It only reinforced that I had to step in, regardless of what I’d had planned.

“Yeah, I’ll go. Where am I supposed to be? The headmaster’s office?”

“No. His teacher just said to go to her classroom.”

Mom rattled off the classroom number and said she would inform the school I was on my way in her stead. We hung up after that. I got into my car and headed to the school, hating hearing the strain in her voice.

The week had been a lot, from the news in Coach’s office to Preston’s rebellion on Monday night and dinner with him and Mom on Tuesday.

At that dinner, she’d pulled me aside and confessed that she was at her wit’s end.

Preston, sullen and unengaged, had just left the table to do his homework, and Mom had poured herself a large glass of wine then slumped on the couch beside me.

“I don’t know what to do, Ares,” she’d said.

“I love Preston, but he keeps getting into trouble.” She took a hearty sip of her one and only glass of wine for the night, her eyes wide and overwhelmed.

“And I’m at a loss about how to handle him.

I’m fifty-seven years old. I don’t have the energy I had even ten years ago. ”

“You’re doing a great job, Mom.” I patted her arm, at a loss for what to say. My nephew had been pushing the envelope since my older sister, Iris, and her husband had died in a car accident a couple of years ago.

“I’m not.” She set her wine down and buried her face in her hands. “On top of Preston’s rebellion, his grades are slipping, and he’s hanging out with the wrong crowd. I feel like I’m losing him. I honestly don’t know what else to do to get through to him.”

“It’ll be okay. I talked to him, and I’m sure his teacher will help too.” I pulled her in for a hug, annoyed with Preston for making her worry so much .

“I don’t know about that. I found used spray paint cans in his backpack, and I have no idea what he might have defaced.”

I’d reassured her as much as I could, but damn, my nephew was struggling.

I wished I could be around more to help.

And I tried. As often as I could carve out time, I did whatever was possible to lighten her load and spend time with P—like going to his school when she couldn’t.

I’d stayed for as long as I could that night, making sure she felt better, then I’d had a brief word with P before I’d left.

But as one day faded into the next, my responsibilities only grew heavier.

I had my personal issues, too, and they were bleeding into football.

Some of the guys on the team who usually rode the bench gave me side-eyes.

Most of my teammates had teased me mercilessly about the sex tape—but that was to be expected.

I couldn’t do much about it except ride it out.

Kylian mentioned he could get his lawyer involved with the school, making them work harder to protect their student athletes and remove the video from the site.

But I didn’t need to make any more waves, so I’d turned down his help.

It meant a lot, though. He and Liam had my back.

There wasn’t anyone else I trusted, not fully.

When I pulled into the parking lot at Linwood Prep, I parked then hurried to where Mom had directed me. It wasn’t hard to find, as I’d also attended the high school.

I found my fourteen-year-old nephew sitting outside what I assumed from his text was the English classroom. I sat on the second chair by the door and elbowed him. “What happened?”

He shrugged, a small, mischievous smirk curving his lips. “It was just a prank on a substitute teacher. Normal stuff.”

This kid. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“It was nothing.” He rolled his eyes. “I just put something on her chair, and she sat on it. She didn’t need to get all crazy.”

“Yet, she called Nana, who called me, so I’m guessing it was bad. ”

Again, with the shrug. My heart hurt for him.

I understood what he was going through because I’d lost my dad around his age.

It had been hard on both my sister and me.

And I’d acted out until I’d seen how much Mom was struggling in addition to maintaining her job.

Then I’d gotten my shit together and done what I could to help her, which also meant keeping up with my grades, embracing football, and doing whatever she asked of me without mouthing off or complaining.

Preston was an only child. He didn’t have a sibling to lean on like I had.

I eased back, my head thumping against the wall just like his did.

We didn’t have long to wait.

The door whipped open, followed by a clipped “You can come in now.”

I followed Preston inside the brightly lit room.

It looked like any other classroom. Preston’s snicker snapped my focus back to the teacher in front of us as she turned to take her place behind her desk.

Long, slightly wavy honey-blond hair hung down her back.

She wore a pale-blue silk blouse tucked into dark pants and a white sweater tied around her waist. The sweater was crooked, and a flash of toned flesh peeked through a tear at the seam of her back pocket.

No wonder he hadn’t called my mom. She would have been livid.

I wasn’t particularly happy about the events.

I averted my eyes because I didn’t need to be checking out his teacher, who was probably in her thirties, as that was the youngest I remembered any of my high school teachers to be. I remained standing, not bothering to try squeezing into one of the tiny chairs with the arm desks like Preston had.

Then his teacher turned and faced us. Not in her thirties. I towered over the willowy blonde with ice-blue eyes that perfectly matched her shirt. Anything I’d thought I would say fled my mind. Because Preston’s teacher was smokin’ hot.

“Please have a seat.” Her eyes flashed fury.

“I’m sorry”—I glanced at her left hand—“Miss…” I left her na me hanging, hoping Preston would do me a solid as I looked at him.

“Sinclair,” he whispered loudly.

“Miss Sinclair.” I gestured to myself. “As you can see, I won’t fit. If you don’t mind, I’ll just stand by my nephew.”

And I got nothing. No smile of understanding, just daggers shot straight from her eyes to mine.

“This is just great. You’re the uncle?” Her full lips compressed into a line, and she seemed to try reeling in some of the palpable anger as she rubbed her temples with two fingers.

“I can’t catch a break today. I expected an adult to meet with me over the seriousness of Preston’s prank, but I can see he probably gets his behavior from his hotshot jock uncle. ”