Page 57 of The Defender

I stayed out of it. I had enough on my mind without trying to wrangle a bunch of footballers who were arguing about dinosaur sex.

Zenith had gone radio silent since the dinner. Lloyd warned me that might happen, but I couldn’t help wondering if he wasright, and I’d fucked up by telling them Brooklyn wasn’t my girlfriend.

My gut twisted. I didn’t regret what I’d done. I didn’t want to start off our relationship with a lie, but their assumption had caused—just for a millisecond—a slight stutter in my heart. A moment where I allowed myself to imagine a world where Brooklyn was my girlfriend, not just my plus-one.

In that world, I could kiss her whenever I wanted. We’d wake up in the same bed and fall asleep in each other’s arms. I’d take her to my favorite restaurants, and we’d walk along the river after, hand in hand. She’d wear my shirt number to matches, but that wouldn’t be all.

In that world, I would’ve pulled the car off to the side of the road the other night and shown her exactly who she belonged to. Not fucking Mason, who had the balls to ask her out like he deserved her. Not any of the guys on the team who secretly had a crush on her.Me. Because I was the one who wanted her so much that I couldn’t breathe when she was near. One glimpse of her skin, one graze of her fingers, and I’d almost crashed the damn car. It’d taken all my willpower not to react when I’d been silently dying inside.

Except I didn’t live in that hypothetical world. I lived in this one, where I was surrounded by a bunch of footballers arguing about dinosaur sex and Brooklyn was two hundred miles away in London.

I wish she were here.The thought struck me with a sudden swiftness. Jones traveled with the team for all our away matches, but his interns alternated turns. Henry had tagged along for today’s match while Brooklyn remained at home.

What I wouldn’t give to see her right now.

I swallowed, an ache sliding behind my ribcage.

“Consolation celebration, my ass,” Asher said, yanking me back to the present with jarring clarity. “This is like watching a group of ten-year-olds fight.”

I blinked away an image of Brooklyn’s smile and forced myself to refocus. “Nah.” I tried to sound like I’d been paying attention and not pining after the coach’s daughter this entire time. “Wilson’s daughter is ten, and she’s better behaved than this. Right?” I nudged Noah, who sat on my other side.

“Definitely.” He grimaced when Stevens grabbed a pillow from the bed and whacked Samson on the stomach with it. “I can’t believe this is what I left Michigan for.”

Noah was the only American in the Premier League at the moment, which made him a novelty for fans. He was almost as famous as Asher and me, but he kept an incredibly low profile and was never in the tabloids. It was hard to dig up dirt on someone who didn’t date, didn’t party, and rarely left his house except for work.

“Hey, we need you here. Your last save was nothing short of poetry,” I said.

“It wasn’t good enough.”

“Don’t start with that bullshit.” Asher wasn’t having it. “You did your job. The ref was the one who fucked us over.”

Noah shrugged, but I could tell he was beating himself up over the goals he didn’t save. He might not hang out with the team much off the pitch, but he took the game as seriously as anyone else.

Asher checked his phone. “It’s Scarlett. I’ll be right back.”

“Do you think he’s really coming back?” Noah asked when Asher disappeared into the hall.

“Nah. We won’t see him again until the morning.”

I lived with Asher and Scarlett for one traumatizing week. Those two could talk for hours about the most mundane topics.

Then again, Brooklyn and I had spent an afternoon at an arcade talking about our grade-school years and underwear-buying habits, so who was I to judge?

“Everything okay?” I asked when Noah frowned at his phone.

“Yeah. Evie’s with her new nanny, and I’m checking in.”

“How’s that working out?” I asked. “This is what, her third nanny in the past year?”

Noah sighed. “Fourth. I fired the third one last week.”

“What happened?”

“I came home and found her on my bed. In lingerie.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, man.” Most men would love to find a half-naked woman waiting for them, but Noah was the opposite of most men. His only focus was football and his daughter Evie. He didn’t care about dating, but given his work and travel schedule, he couldn’t take care of her on his own.

Unfortunately, he’d had the worst luck trying to find the right nanny. They either fell in love with him, didn’t get along with Evie, or both.