Page 4 of Hart Breaker

“Love you, man, but if you call her a bitch, you’re gonna be left on the side of the road.”

“Wasn’t gonna say bitch,” he lies. “Witch, maybe. And before you get all Knight in padded armor and stick up for her, all I have to say is: if the broom fits …” He leaves it hanging right there with a huff.

“She’s a cool chick.” Or my ass would probably have been traded by now.

“Cool like a fucking glacier,” he mumbles.

“You’re not all that warm and fuzzy when it comes to her, either. Try the whole kill her with kindness bit like I did with fuckwit tonight.”

“Like fuckwit, Lauren Brooks wouldn’t be affected.”

I’m half a second from calling him out as he did me because I’m sensing there’s more to this, but it just feels wrong to do that, especially since she and I did the no-pants dance in that bar bathroom. She and I are cool, but I’m thinking if it goes in that direction, she may be pissed if she thought I was passing her off to a teammate.

“Hart, you just passed my place.”

“Shiiiit,” I hiss while silently scolding myself for getting lost in my Brooks sisters’ thoughts and pull a U-turn in the middle of the street.

He grabs the oh shit handle and hisses, “You’re gonna get a damn ticket.”

“It’s only illegal if you get caught,” I joke. “I’ve yet to see a cop after dark in the village.”

“Kind of the point,” he grumbles before he sighs and leans back in his seat as I park behind his ninety-thousand-dollar car in front of the townhouse he’s rented since we started playing pro.

“You good?” I ask, knowing he’s not.

I watch him work something out in his head as he unbuckles his seat belt.

He scrubs a hand over his face as he tells me, “Got papers today.”

I’d love to be able to pull off a bullshit look, saying I didn’t see that one coming, but I did. He and Deborah went from fuck buddies in college back at Lincoln U to married when the world shut down. They’ve been separated for over a year. Plus, he’s tripping over Lauren. So, yeah, I can’t even pull a look out of my ass.

“Not sure how to feel. Divorce isn’t something to be taken lightly.” Neither is marriage. “I’m glad you have that piece of paper ending that chapter of Kolby Grime’s memoirs so you can start the next.”

He waves his hand toward the townhouses, and his chest rises and falls in a silent chuckle. “Start over here?”

“Hey champ, you’re basically living in Halston House; this is freshman-year shit. Buy a house, plant roots, and see what happens.”

“Can’t afford to,” he says in a tone that is so low I’m pretty sure I just heard his thoughts.

There’s no way in hell I’m hearing this right. I know he’s making at least twenty a year. “Come again?”

“Her father’s a lawyer, that’s how,” he states.

A few guys on the team pay exes out the ass. Regarding child support, I’m all about it. If any of them complain, it takes everything I have to keep from slamming a fist in their faces. Alimony, too. I never want to see or hear of a mother working three jobs like mine to care for her kids. But Grimes was married for about a minute and has no kids. She has an education and is more than able. Hell, her father is a lawyer; she’s not hurting in any way.

“Alimony?”

He holds up three fingers. “Fifty percent for three years.”

“Dayum.” I sigh. Then I decide I need to keep this shit positive, or I’m not going to get home in time to start my day-off-eve ritual. “But still?—”

“Before taxes,” he snarls. “And I have to pay for the New York City apartment and maintenance until she finds a job and a place.” He throws his thumb over his shoulder toward the townhouse.

“Don’t her parents live on Park Ave? And hold up, she isn’t required to pay?—”

“Was stupid to sign the papers. My own damn fault.” He grabs the door handle. “I need?—”

“To talk to Ava Links. She’s the head of the legal team for the Knights. She’ll?—”

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