Page 28 of Game Changer

It must have taken forever for the team to get back to the private plane because I was asleep and didn’t wake up until we were inthe air. Eyes still closed, I try to let the hum of the plane lull me back to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

Something has me opening my eyes and looking to my left. The cabin is dimly lit, and most of the passengers are asleep, but not the person beside me, scrolling through his phone, the lazy smile on his face. And that person is not Maggie, who was sitting beside me when I fell asleep.

Boone is sitting beside me, legs sprawled out, his broad shoulders barely contained by the leather seat. His black hoodie is pulled up over his head, but you can still see the sharp angles of his jaw, the faint stubble along his chin. One big hand rests on his knee, fingers tapping absently against his sweatpants, as he turns his phone screen over and places it on his leg. His eyes—deep blue, shadowed with fatigue—stare straight ahead, unfocused, like he’s replaying every snap, every hit, every moment of the game in his head. The sleeves of his hoodie are pushed up to his forearms, revealing taped-up fingers from the game, pinky to the middle all look bruised.

I shift, and the leather creaks beneath me, causing him to look my way. “You good?”

He exhales through his nose, slow, controlled, like he’s shaking off the weight of the game, but as this is Boone, he smirks, voice low and rough as he asks,“You tell me.”

Rolling my eyes, I reply, “You looked like a beast out there.”

He chuckles—low, quiet, and tired. “That was the goal.”

A beat of silence. We both stare out the window, the endless stretch of sky swallowing up the light. Boone shifts beside me, rolling his shoulder like he’s trying to shake out the stiffness and pain from that last play, the winning touchdown.

“How bad does it hurt?”

He smirks again, but this time, it’s softer, more honest. “I can handle it. It’s why I make the big bucks.”

I catch the way his fingers flex like the pain is settling in now that the game-day adrenaline is gone.

I reach into my bag and pull out a bottle of ibuprofen. “Take three of these, and then nothing for eight hours.”

His finger traces my palm as he takes the pills. “Keep that up, and I might start thinking you actually like me.”

I scoff, pulling my hand back, but there’s warmth curling in my chest. “Just need you healthy for playoffs.”

He grins now—lazy, tired, but real. “Yeah, yeah. You and all of BV.”

As I close my eyes to try to … I don’t know … ignore the fact he’s next to me, I feel his knee tap mine.

“Just a little four-one-one, I do like you, and I know damn well you like me, too. We’re friends, Sydney Sparks. Have been from the jump.”

I refuse to open my eyes, but I do feel a smile tug at my lips.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.”

The flight? Under two hours but felt like a hundred as I sat, eyes closed, faking sleep the whole time, wondering how the hell I ended up partnerless on the flight home. We’re all cousins, but Riley and Lauren are sisters, and Izzy and Maggie are the closest in age, so I’m the odd man out, which is fine. It’s no different than when I’m with Harper, or Ava, or London. They’re all married with children. I’m always kind of that odd duck in every situation. I always have been. It never really bothered me before, but right now, sitting next to Beau, all man spread out, his knee against mine, it’s driving me crazy, and he’s off limits now. And since there’s no taking the edge off of this when I get home, I’m a little—no, a lot—on edge. Tomorrow, I need to make a list to get back on track, and we’re not even two weeks into the new year … The top of that list will be to find a new fantasy man and do it in a hurry.

Chapter 6

Lost

Boone

“We have a parade and a party tonight, Daddy, on a school night?” My little flower bounces on her tiny toes then twirls in a circle so her gold, sparkly skirt flares out.

“On a school night.” I chuckle as she continues to twirl toward the bathroom. “Potty first!”

I glance over at Lindsey, who shakes her head.

“Our daughter is in school.”

“And not one major temper tantrum since Christmas.” I hold out a fist. “We’re crushing this co-parenting, Linds.”

She gives it a tap and, yeah, rolls her eyes a bit, still unable to fully take a compliment.

“I, uh, I was thinking I could maybe look into seeing what would be needed to finish my degree.”

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