Page 22 of Lock 'em Down

“I want a straw too!” I holler as I reenter the communal space.

A cheer goes up from my friends.

“There he is! Laid-back Leif.” Ray whips a bottle of sunscreen at my head.

I catch it and slip it into my backpack.

“Lead me to the pool,” I demand as Chris laughs.

Then, I follow my friends and allow myself to roll with it. I proceed to get shitfaced. And sunburned.

And yeah, a little fucking heartbroken too. But no one else needs to know that.

By the time I’m back in Knoxville, I’m hopped up on frustration and anger—two emotions I dislike. I pride myself on taking things in stride, but when Cami offered me stakes, and I said I wanted them, I didn’t realize how much that decision would affect my outlook.

Knowing I’ve got a wife running around who won’t reply to a damn text message is infuriating. And hurtful.

I’m out of my element.

Needing to blow off steam, I head to the gym. The arena where the Thunderbolts play, the Honeycomb, is pretty quiet in the summer months. The players who have family out of town have headed home or have booked a vacation out of Knoxville.

It’s a relief, since the last thing I need is to be hounded with questions by my teammates. I was traded in the middle of last season, right before the Christmas trading freeze, and while I’ve got a good rapport with my teammates, I’m still relatively new.

Jensen calls as I’m tossing my bag in the locker room.

I pick up. “What’s good?”

“I’m ready to ask you that. You never replied to my text,” he says.

I sigh, not ready to go into details, so I give him a version of the truth. “Just a wild night. I got a matching tattoo with a woman I hooked up with.” But my stomach sours when I think of Cami as only a hookup. She’s so much more than that it’s not even funny.

“Damn, Leif.” Jensen chuckles. “I hope it’s not her name.”

“Nah.” I inject lightness into my tone and glance at the curling wave on my wrist. “Got a wave.”

“Another fucking wave.” I can hear my brother rolling his eyes.

“Yeah. But listen, I just got to the gym.”

“Okay, I’ll let you go. One thing—you talk to Mom?”

“Today? No, why?” I pause, my curiosity rising.

Jensen sighs. “Could be nothing but I haven’t heard from her. King couldn’t get in touch with her either.”

Unease sweeps my veins. “You think?—”

“She could be coming to see you, Leif.” Jensen chuckles as my nausea increases.

“No way,” I spit back. “She’d at least call.”

His laughter grows. “I don’t know, little brother. But if Mom shows up on your doorstep, run.”

I snort. “She’s not that bad.”

“She’s on a mission, Leif. Be prepared,” he warns.

Since the start of last season, Mom has successfully ensured that King, Jake, and Jensen are matched up with the right women. But little does she—or anyone else know—I’m now a married man.

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