Page 24 of Heart of Thorns

I switch out for our kicker and take a seat. It’s only then that I notice the twinge of pain in my knee. My physical therapist, always on hand during games to wrap joints or simply be here during emergencies, appears in front of me.

“How does it feel?”

“Fine.”

“You were limping for the last two plays.”

“No, I wasn’t.” I scowl at him. “It’s fine.”

He just stares at me.

The kicker does his job, sending the ball through the posts. It puts us up ten points, with four minutes left on the clock.

They send the ball down for the other team, and I hop up to pace.

“I just need to walk it off,” I tell him over my shoulder.

But with every step, it just aches worse. I grab a cup of water and gulp it down, then another to pour over my head.

The visitors barely make it to the fifty-yard line when they throw an interception.

We’re back in.

Ignore the pain, ignore everything.

One minute and fifteen seconds.

Just a few plays left. And, in the blink of an eye, it’s over. The home crowd goes nuts as the time counts down. The field suddenly fills with people—the rest of my team jumping around me and Rhys, who puts his hands on my shoulders and shouts something unintelligible.

The excitement is palpable, and I force myself to be just asinit as they are.

“There you are! Thorne!” a feminine voice calls.

I turn.

The girl I took on a date a few days ago appears, a man in a suit right behind her. “Oh my gosh, Thorne, you wereincredible!” She bounces forward and kisses my cheek.

I should’ve kept my helmet on.

“Thanks,” I tell her. Because being cordial is what’s expected. My attention swings to her father. “Sir.”

“Good game, son.”

If there’s one thing I loathe, it’s being calledson.

But… it seems like this guy really does want me to be his son. In-law.

Abso-fucking-lutely not.

He continues on about the game, even commenting on things he thinks I could improve. When he reaches that stage, I tune him out. My polite agreements seem to mollify him, but I’m just searching for a hint of blue in the crowd.

“…eager for you to join the Keenland family.”

I refocus on him. “Sorry, what?”

He narrows his eyes. “Your father assures me you’re serious in finding a wife.”

“I…” am not. But the words stick in my throat.

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