Page 39 of The Game Changer (Knights of Passion #3)

Chapter

Twenty-Six

T he next several days passed in a blur of frustration and dark moods.

Dylan snapped at everyone—teammates, staff, even the clubhouse attendant who asked if he wanted his usual protein shake.

His bat had gone cold, stone cold, and behind the plate, he was distracted and sluggish, missing cues, making sloppy calls. It wasn’t just a slump—it was a spiral.

Eventually, Sam benched him.

“Get your head on straight or get used to catching in the bullpen,” the manager had barked, throwing a lineup card on the bench with enough force to make Dylan flinch. “You’re not doing anyone any favors out there.”

Home wasn’t much better. Lindsey had holed up in her room as if she were in self-imposed quarantine, Sadie curled beside her like a furry emotional support blanket.

They gave him looks. The kind that stabbed like dull knives—hurt and disappointed and a little wary.

Like he was a ticking bomb no one wanted to prod too hard.

He knew he’d been impossible since the blowup with Savannah. But how the hell was he supposed to pretend like everything was fine when she’d manipulated him like that? When she hadn’t even tried to call or explain? Not a word. Not a single text.

Then again, he hadn’t exactly left the door open.

Still, he couldn’t shake the gut-punch betrayal. She’d seemed different. Honest. Passionate in a way that made him want things he’d long since shut out. But no—just another person using him for what he could give. He’d seen it too many times to ignore the signs now.

He was better off without her. Cleaner. Safer.

He just wished that didn’t feel like shit.

A sharp knock jolted him out of the cycle of regret. He frowned, heading downstairs. He yanked the door open?—

And Cody bulldozed inside, his right arm in a sling, his face flushed with righteous fury.

“Are you a fucking moron or just a world-class asshole?” Cody snapped. “If I had both arms, I’d beat the shit out of you right now. What the hell happened between you and Savannah?”

Dylan blinked. “How’d your appointment go?”

Cody stopped mid-step, mouth hanging open like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He planted his left hand on his hip, his eyes blazing. “Seriously? That’s your first question? I come home, hear you’ve turned into Captain Douchebag, and you’re asking me about my appointment?”

“I’ve been in a bad mood, but not that bad.”

“Oh yes, that bad,” came a dry voice from upstairs.

Dylan looked up just in time to see Lindsey peering over the second-floor railing, arms crossed over a worn T-shirt, legs bare in tiny shorts, her expression unreadable. “He’s been a total ass. Too bad Cody’s injured. He could’ve used a beating.”

She padded down the stairs barefoot, calm and casual, like she wasn’t lobbing verbal grenades.

Cody’s brows lifted as he watched her descend. Then he turned abruptly, grabbed Dylan by the front of his shirt with his good arm, and shoved him back against the wall hard enough to rattle a picture frame.

“You cheating on Savannah?” he growled. “Already? You had a grade-A woman, and you tossed her for—no offense, darling.”

“Offense taken.” Lindsey grabbed Cody’s wrist and hung off his arm like an angry squirrel. “Also, gross. I’m his sister.”

Cody froze. His eyes darted between them, and his grip slowly loosened. “Wait… seriously?”

“Yeah, genius. Sister. Not that kind of house.” Lindsey released him with a scoff. “Though I appreciate the outrage. Someone around here needs to get punched.”

Cody rubbed a hand down his face. “Shit. Sorry, darling. I thought you were his new girl.”

Lindsey rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I wish that was all this was. He came home the other night ranting about being used, acting like a drama queen, and got good and drunk. Wouldn’t even let me drink with him, which is saying something.

Since then, he’s been a menace. I’ve been this close to moving out. And taking Sadie with me.”

Dylan glared at the two of them, arms crossed, feeling very much like an audience to his own shaming. “I’m right here, you know.”

Lindsey waved a hand in dismissal. “We’re talking.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Cody asked, eyes still fixed on her. His voice had softened slightly, and Dylan didn’t like the tilt of his smile. “We staging an intervention?”

Lindsey smirked. “Don’t know. You gonna get both hands working before you try to fix him?”

Dylan stepped between them, narrowing his eyes. “Back up, Romeo. That’s my sister.”

Lindsey shoved his shoulder. “Ass.”

Cody leaned around Dylan, grin broadening. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t swear so much.”

“You swear constantly.”

“Yeah, but I’m not a pretty girl.”

Lindsey gave him a look that would’ve melted steel, then spun on her heel and stalked into the kitchen.

Cody clapped a hand on Dylan’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go after her and figure this mess out. You look like shit, man. Emotional constipation is not a good look on you.”

Dylan stood in the hallway, dazed, as Cody whistled off-key and sauntered toward the kitchen, leaving him behind like a lost kid at a carnival.

What the hell just happened? Weren’t they supposed to be on his side? Wasn’t that the sibling and teammate code or something?

And why did it feel like he’d just been hit by a two-man hurricane of truth, sarcasm, and sibling sass?

Whatever it was, he suddenly didn’t feel quite as certain about how everything had gone down with Savannah.

L indsey stood at the stove, stirring something with intense concentration, though the smell wasn’t exactly encouraging. Cody lounged on one of the barstools, chin in hand, eyeing her with far too much interest. Dylan’s protective instincts kicked in hard.

He walked up behind Cody and smacked him upside the head.

“Sister.”

Cody winced. “Hot.”

Dylan narrowed his eyes. “Off-limits.”

Cody only grinned and swiveled lazily on the stool. “So how’d you fuck it up?”

Lindsey handed Dylan a steaming mug of coffee without a word, her expression unreadable, though she shot Cody a look sharp enough to slice bread.

She returned to the refrigerator and began poking around inside.

Dylan tried not to be alarmed. Given her recent track record, dinner could either be edible… or deadly.

“Lindsey,” he said, tone warning. “Order a pizza. It’s safer.”

She glared at him, all attitude and dramatic sighs, but picked up the phone and called in their usual, doubling the order for Cody’s benefit. As she muttered their order into the receiver, Cody waited in silence, his gaze pinned on Dylan like he was a bug under glass.

Dylan sighed, the weight deep and dragging. He wrapped both hands around the coffee cup as if it anchored him. “She made a deal with some guy—Tom Clark—saying I’d be a spokesman for Soul Paws if he’d agree to sponsor her.”

His voice cracked a little at the end, like admitting it out loud made the betrayal more real, more cutting. Silence filled the kitchen, broken only by the rhythmic tick of the wall clock and the low hum of the fridge.

Dylan shoved to his feet, pacing in short, sharp strides. The air felt too thick, his skin too tight. “I know how it sounds. But if she’d just asked me… hell, I would’ve done it. No hesitation. But she didn’t. She let him believe I was part of her deal. Like I was some prize to offer.”

Cody tilted his head, frowning. “Let me get this straight. She told someone you’d do something you probably would’ve done, anyway.

Like a thing we do all the time without even thinking?

Shit, I’ve had so many endorsement deals I don’t even know who I’m repping anymore.

I think I did a commercial for cat food last year. ”

Dylan managed a weak laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s not the deal. It’s the setup.”

“I get it,” Lindsey said softly, her voice slicing through the tension.

Both men turned to look at her. She stood stiffly at the counter, arms folded, eyes shadowed.

“If she’d just asked him, it would’ve been different.

But when someone uses you to get something—when they decide for you—it leaves a mark.

You can’t help but question everything. You wonder if they were ever really with you…

or just aiming to get what they wanted.”

She met Dylan’s gaze, voice turning bitter. “She used you, Dylan. Like everyone else has. I say good riddance.”

Cody was up in an instant, striding toward her, looming with all the subtlety of a freight train. “You don’t know her. You’ve barely spent any time with her. She’s not like that.”

Lindsey didn’t back down. “And you’re basing this on what? One afternoon panting after her at a picnic? You don’t know what she’s capable of.”

Dylan sat there, the volley of words washing over him. Each one chipped away at his anger, peeling it back layer by layer until only the raw ache remained. The betrayal. The doubt. The deep, undeniable missing of her.

“You’re both right,” he muttered.

They turned to him in unison. “What?”

He stood slowly, setting down the mug and leaning both hands on the counter as if grounding himself.

“Both of you are right. Savannah’s passionate—fiercely loyal to her dogs.

She’s not above pushing boundaries to help them.

But she never lied to me. Not once. She gave up Carl—the dog she loved most—because she thought it was the right thing for her rescue. Even though it tore her apart.”

Lindsey’s lips parted, stunned. “Doesn’t that just prove she’ll do anything for her cause? Even give up someone she loves?”

Dylan exhaled hard. “Yeah. But I think if she’d made a deal like that, she would’ve told me. Not in the beginning, maybe. But eventually. She wouldn’t have hidden it from me… unless she was afraid I’d walk away.”

Cody leaned against the counter, shaking his head with a smirk. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Lindsey slapped him on the arm, careful of the sling. “He knows that.”

Dylan nodded once. “Yeah. I do.”

“So…” Cody said, drawing out the word like bait. “What are you going to do now? Are you going to fix it? Because I’ve got an idea. But it’s gonna take a little help.”

Dylan arched a brow. “From whom?”

Cody grinned like the devil with a plan. “Who do you think? Us. And maybe a few furry accomplices.”

Lindsey groaned. “God help us all.”

But Dylan felt something loosen in his chest, a sliver of hope slicing through the fog. Maybe it wasn’t too late.

Maybe he could still win her back.