Page 125 of The Renegade Billionaire

The euphoria filling my mind is cleared quickly by Savvy’s cutting voice.

“I didn’t ask you to come with me.” Her voice is so cold it could freeze hell with one syllable.

Clover has shifted seats to sit on Braxton’s other side, so when Savvy enters the row, she’s beside me and Grey takes the only one left—right next to her.

“Should we put a buffer between those two?” I ask Clover by leaning over Braxton’s lap.

She lifts up in her seat to stare at them over our heads. When she sits back down, she shakes her head. “Nah, let them work it out.”

“Good luck with that,” Braxton huffs. “This is a side of Grey I’ve never seen.”

I frown at Clover but sit back in my seat and watch them out of the corner of my eye. It’s silent for all of thirty seconds.

“You hardly missed anything,” Savvy says dismissively, then crosses her legs in the opposite direction of Grey, angling her body into my space.

“Half a quarter. It took you half a quarter to pick a goddamn sweatshirt.” Grey grumbles. “And Sage is on the field.”

“He’s not playing,” she snaps back.

They engage in some sort of glaring contest, but Savvy glances away first. I don’t blame her. The blue fire that burns behind his eyes is kind of terrifying. But my best friend isn’t one to back down from a challenge either, so this will be loads of fun today.

“Ignore them,” Braxton whispers, tucking me into his side.

“I didn’t get to see Sage before he left this morning. Was he nervous?” I ask.

Braxton shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t think so. This kid did half a semester’s worth of work in a week, so I don’t think he’s had time to be nervous. We’re pretty sure he won’t be active until next season anyway. Today is about getting a feel for the field and playing in front of this type of crowd. Plus, we’re going to have to work him out pretty aggressively so he’s ready to take these kinds of hits.”

“He looks great in his jersey. Oh!” I bounce in my seat. “We all have to get jerseys with his name and number on the back.”

He stares down at me, and if I weren’t such a chicken, I’d allow myself to believe he’s staring at me with love.

“He’s releasing too soon,” Grey shouts, which startles Clover again, but this time it’s her Sour Patch Kids that go flying.

We learned early on not to get her anything wet or sticky at the games, and she takes large, intermittent gulps of her beer when she thinks it’s safe—injury timeouts are her jam.

Grey jumps up. “He’s releasing too fucking soon,” he shouts again.

We’re close enough to the field that if any of the coaches were paying attention, they’d probably hear him and want to kick him out of the stadium.

“Why the hell can’t anyone see that? Who are the clowns coaching these kids?”

“Ah, so I take it he’s competitive?” I murmur into Braxton’s side.

“Football was his outlet growing up. He loves the game, but this is the first time I’ve seen him getting into it since he quit.”

“What the hell?” Grey pulls on the ends of his hair. The man’s going to give himself a heart attack before this game is over.

“If you know so much, why don’t you march your ass right down there and have it out with the coaches?” Savvy taunts.

“Oh, shit,” Braxton mutters.

Here comes another fiery standoff between the two of them.

“You don’t think I know what I’m talking about?” The rumble in his voice rivals everyone in the stands stomping on the floor.

“I don’t care if you do. That’s not the point. You’re sitting here complaining like an ex-pro reliving his glory days. If you know better than the coaches, do something about it.”

“Savvy,” I warn. “You know he can’t just march onto the field.”