Page 18 of The Longshot

“You’re the best, Wilks.” She gleams. “You’re the little brother I never had. I’m like your big sister, don’t you think so?”

I choke back some laughter.

“What?” She raises a suspecting brow. “What’s so funny about that?”

“Nothing,” I tell her with a raise of my hands. “I was just thinking of something that happened earlier, that’s all…”

Little does Delaney know that I was her little brother in someone else's eyes about an hour ago.

Chelsie.

Chelsie Windsor.

God, what a perfect name.

I’ve been turning it over and over in my mind since the second we parted, and Christ, I can’t seem to shake it. I don’t want to shake it?—

“Time for cake, everyone!” Coach strides his way into the party room, his announcement being enough to erupt the group into a series of delighted cheers and bring me back down to Earth.

“Yay!” Delaney beams, clapping her hands as one. “I can’t wait to see the cake. Oh, thank you so much again for picking it up, Wilks. I really hope it wasn’t too much of a hassle for you.”

Coach approaches the two of us before I can respond, shooting me a glare that reads, “Don’t you dare say a word.”

“No.” I shrug nonchalantly, fearful for my life. “No hassle at all. If anything, it allowed me to discover a new part of Crawley.”

“A new part of Crawley?” Delaney repeats, eyes narrowing. “But didn’t I order the cake from a place in London?—”

“Open up the box, love.” Warren is quick to jump into action, diverting her attention towards the cake and muttering “zip it” to me under his breath.

“Oh my goodness!” Delaney cheers out in delight, hands cupping her mouth. “It’s perfect. It’s exactly what I was hoping for. Ah, I love it.”

There’s nothing more satisfactory than the arrogant look I flash at Coach before I lean in and whisper. “You hear that, Coach? It’s exactly what she was hoping for.”

“Piss off.” Coach is just about ready to nudge me when Delaney tugs on his shirt and draws him in.

“Isn’t it just amazing, babe?” She seeks his approval.

There’s an instantaneous shift in Coach’s demeanor the second he looks down at Delaney and places a gentle hand on her stomach. “It’s amazing.” He leans in to plant a kiss on her cheek. “You’re amazing.”

I can’t help but smile as I watch the two of them interact. There’s this mutual sense of love that radiates between them, and I’ll be damned, it’s as nauseating as it is enticing.

My whole life I’ve always believed in love stories, though before Delaney and Warren, I’d never seen one pan out from start to finish.

Sure, I’ve watched films, but that’s all rubbish.

Fake.

None of it is real.

But this? This is as real as it gets.

I know that true love exists. I mean, there’s always been something about just the thought of it that unleashes butterflies in my stomach.

Yet, it’s not just the thought that leads me to that conclusion. It’s the fact that I’m a product of true love—my parents are an example of that.

Hell, my parents had so much love for each other that they decided to multiply it, not once, not twice, not three times, but seven times.

Yes, I’m the oldest of almost a football team itself.

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