Page 18 of Bound

“I do too.”

Fucking liar. Fucking child. Fucking moron.

A roll of her eyes. “I’ll take it home with me,” she says like she’s talking to a toddler, probably because…I’m acting like a toddler. “Unlike you, Idolike it.”

“I—”

“Look,” she says with an annoyed sigh. “Just stop. We don’t have to be best friends, but we do need to get along.”

“Did you think that before or after prying into my private life?”

“I didn’t mean to?—”

I lean closer, near enough to see the specks of gold in her soft brown eyes. “Pry into sealed files you had no business accessing?”

Guilt on her face. “I?—”

There’s a clatter behind us and we both whip around?—

To see fucking Walker standing across the room, clearly snooping, clearly gathering intel for the Breakers’ gossip train, clearly being a fucking pain in my motherfucking ass.

He flicks up his brows, tilts his head toward the hall that leads down to the weight room, silently reminding me that I’m playing with fire.

Christ.

Claire plunks a hand on my chest, shoves me back. “Enough,” she hisses.

I freeze, the touch burning through me, but before I can react to it, she slips away from me and hurries from the room.

With the fucking bottle of sports drink clenched in her hand.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Claire

I get tired of staring at the walls in my empty apartment.

My earlier visit with Gran this afternoon was cut short when she fell asleep on the couch, so I covered her up, made sure her fridge was stocked, that she had snacks and drinks within arm’s reach and then went home.

To stare at those walls.

Until the quiet becomes overwhelming and I find myself getting in my car and driving…

To CeCe’s.

It’s just a local bar and restaurant—nothing fancy—but the food is good, the music is great, and the back room feels like a secret hideaway for just me and the crew from the Breakers.

“Claire!”

Case in point?

Several of the guys are taking up most of a large round table on the far side of the room. They wave me over, and I can’t lie, I feel a wave of relief when I see Raph, Walker, Cas, and Smitty…and no Jackson.

The scene in the player’s lounge a few days ago has been imprinted on my mind.

Jackson’s body.

The heat in his eyes and how it stoked the embers of need in my belly, always present when he’s near, but transformed into flames that threaten to incinerate me when he was so close to me, so focused on me, so…muchto me.

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