Page 66 of Bound

Especially considering how big of an asshole I’ve been.

“But Claire looked happy at breakfast, and I heard about yesterday?—”

Of course he had.

Fucking Gossip Train.

“—so I’ll just say, keep doing what you’re doing. Keep making her smile and spoiling her and making her happy.” His eyes cool further. “And so long as you do that, we won’t have to kill you.”

“Swear to God,” Walker says quips, “that’s more words at once than I’ve ever heard you say.”

Aiden rolls his eyes, nods toward my equipment, silently telling me to get my shit together and get ready for the game.

“I’m more impressed by the fact that Jackson managed to lift Smitty’s heavy ass at least two inches off that chair,” Raph chimes in.

“Superhero strength,” Cas says. “Only happens in cases of emergencies and extreme rage.”

“Or from the drugs,” Marcel deadpans.

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes—they heard my mom ask meonetime about being high (blood sugar high, not high high) and the joke has continued.

It doesn’t help that I technically also take drugs multiple times a day.

The locker room laughs in appreciation of our captain’s joke, and I exhale, allowing the dredges of anger to fade away as I return Aiden’s fist bump with one of my own.

Then I start getting dressed.

And not a moment too soon.

Because Claire walks through the door barely a minute later, carrying our pregame snacks.

Including my sandwich.

I thank her for it with a kiss, with a murmured, “I’ll repay you later,” that has her blushing, and then I’m focusing on Smitty, glaring at him while he glares at me.

I’ll show him.

I’ll show them all.

But most of all, I’ll show Claire?—

How fucking perfect she is.

“You don’t have to repay me,” she says quietly.

“And you don’t have to do what you do.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “But you do it anyway.” I lean close. “Plus, I think you have all sorts of interestingthoughtsabout how exactly I can pay you back.”

Her cheeks go redder, but she’s smiling when she pecks me on the cheek—thus earning a roomful of catcalls. “It’s forty-three minutes till game time,” she says, shoving my sandwich toward my mouth. “Get busy.”

She winks.

“Nowandlater.”

I grin.

Then she waves and slips from the room, hurrying off to make magic elsewhere.

My gaze catches on Smitty’s and I don’t miss that now instead of glaring at me…

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