Page 126 of The Chase

“Don’t worry, cutie. We’ll be there with balls on.”

“Bells,” Brenna’s friend corrects from the sofa.

Rex fixes her with a stern look. “Audrey. When I say balls, I mean balls.”

She snorts and goes back to checking her phone.

“Are you sure the timing is okay?” Summer presses. “I heard Bibby mention something about a team-building retreat, but isn’t it the off-season?”

“It is,” Bibby grumbles.

Jules, another wide receiver, rolls his eyes. “Coach is making us attend this hippie-dippie bullshit course because we fell apart in the playoffs.”

“Because Wiley fell apart in the playoffs,” Lockett corrects, referring to their quarterback.

I don’t miss the disappointment in their expressions. Before this season, it had been a while since Briar had produced a football team with a good record. The fact that they’d ranked so high this year only to lose in the postseason must kill them.

“He thinks we have trust issues,” Jules says. He shrugs. “So we’ve been sentenced to five days of forced camaraderie.”

Brenna raises her eyebrows. “Five days? That’s savage.”

“We get back on the day of the show,” Rex says. When he notices Summer’s worried eyes, he ruffles her hair reassuringly. “But we’ll have plenty of time to spare. The bus is dropping us at campus around seven-thirty, eight.”

Summer nods with relief. “Okay. Perfect.”

As the players leave the room to change into their street clothes, Summer gathers her supplies and tucks them into the huge sewing case on the coffee table. Audrey is now chatting with Lockett, who returns in track pants and a Patriots hoodie. And in the armchair, Brenna is now bent over her phone, her long hair forming a dark curtain around her face.

“Who are you texting?” Summer asks her.

“Nobody.”

But it’s clearly somebody, based on her secretive tone and the quick glance she flicks in Hollis’ direction. The cloud of hurt in his blue eyes is unmistakable, and sympathy tugs at my gut. I don’t think he’s given up on the idea of him and Brenna yet, but it’s been about a month since they hooked up, and it’s evident she’s not looking for a repeat.

“I’m making a coffee,” he finally mutters, tearing his gaze off Brenna. “Want one, Fitz?”

“No thanks.” I had two cups at Della’s and I’m still wired.

The moment he disappears into the kitchen, Summer launches an interrogation. “Spill, Bee. Who is he? Do I know him?”

Brenna shrugs. “You met him once.”

Summer continues watching her like a hawk. “Who is it?” I’m pretty sure she’s holding her breath as she awaits Brenna’s response. When she doesn’t get one within three seconds, she blurts out, “Is it Jake Connelly?”

My head swivels toward Brenna. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“God, no. It’s not Connelly. He’s such a prick.”

“Then who!” Summer demands. “Just tell me. Otherwise I’ll steal your phone and—”

“Relax, crazy girl. It’s Josh, okay?”

“Who?”

“McCarthy,” Brenna clarifies.

Summer gasps. “The Harvard guy? Oh my God. How do you even have his number?”

“He messaged me on Facebook. Wanted to apologize for losing his shit when he found out who my dad was.” Brenna offers another shrug. “We’re just fooling around, though. Nothing serious.”

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