Page 13 of The Risk Taker

I shake my head and glance out the windows at the passing traffic. “I don’t get hungover.”

I usually don’t drink enough to suffer the next day. But even when I do, I’m a big guy, and I can handle a little imbibing. And in truth, I wouldn’t admit it even if I was. I’m too stubborn. I refuse to show weakness, even to my sister.

Oakley snorts while rolling her eyes. “Too manly to get hungover?” She knows me well.

I shrug arrogantly. “You said it, not me.”

Those eyes, which are a shade greener and more like our dad’s than mine, roll again.

She reaches across the table to touch my jaw until I push her hand away. “Did you forget how to use a razor in the past week?”

I run my fingers across my scruffy jawline. “What … you don’t like the beard?”

“It’s getting a little heavy,” she says honestly. “It hides your pretty face.”

“He’s gotta grow that facial hair out to make him look more intimidating for the pros,” Chase adds.

I smile at that.

“Are you excited, man?” Chase asks.

I swallow a drink of soda. “It’s still sinking in, I think. But, yeah, I’m psyched. This is everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“I know,” he says. “I’m envious. I wish I were going with you.”

“Hey,” Oakley says, scrunching up her pretty face.

Chase’s hand lands on my sister’s cheek, and he kisses the side of her head. “I don’t mean that I want to leave you. It would just be a dream to play on the same team in the pros as your brother.”

Oakley pouts next to him at the thought of both of us leaving. I take another drink of Pepsi to hide the smile threatening to tip my lips at their interaction. My sister is not needy, and she isn’t clingy. Her reaction reminds me of just how deep she has fallen for our friend. It’s also a reminder to myself that this exact scenario is what I don’t want when I leave for training camp at the end of this summer. Complications. It’s why I left Dallas’s place last night and likely one of the reasons I won’t call her to get together again. Even if she was a warm, soft place to land.

“Your time will come,” I assure Chase. He played too well this year for him to get overlooked at the next level. “Are you thinking of declaring for the draft next year?”

My sister stiffens when I ask the question as she waits for her boyfriend’s answer.

He shrugs. “I’m not sure. I guess I’m taking it day by day.”

“That’s the best way to approach it,” I agree.

The waitress drops off our meals at the table, and I unroll my paper napkin and free up the utensils. I take the first bite of mashed potatoes and thick, creamy gravy and pause in surprise when it hits my taste buds.

“Well, damn,” I say before I’ve finished chewing.

Chase and Oakley smile knowingly.

“Told you,” my sister says smugly.

I cut off a bite of chicken fried steak. “I’ll never doubt you again.”

“I don’t believe you,” she quips.

Our table grows very quiet as we devour our meals. The conversation is trumped by the amazing home-cooked food.

“How’d you find this place?” I ask when half of my plate is cleared.

“I came here with my mom after a game last fall. And I was sold after the first bite.” Chase glances over at Oakley with a smile that I’ve only seen him direct at my sister. “I’ve brought Oakley here a time or two.”

She meets his eyes, and something private passes between them. I focus on my food, feeling like I’m encroaching on a moment. Even though it’s awkward at times now, I’m glad to see them both happy together. It was torture, watching Oakley fall into depression after her breakup with Anderson. I couldn’t stand to see her so unhappy because of that douchebag. It’s a relief and a weight off my shoulders for her to be in a much better place now.

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