Page 7 of Love on the Waiver Wire

I’m peacefully painting on my floor, the low hum of my favorite 90’s band filling the room and my large candle casting a pretty glow across the room, when a loud bang on my door sends my paintbrush up as I flinch.

“Isla! Isla! I have a favor I have to ask of you,” Leo practically yells as he barges in. He flips on the light, and I squeeze my eyes closed, slowly opening them one at a time so they can get used to the brightness. My brother’s eyes are wild, his chest heaving. If you didn’t know any better you’d almost think he wasn’t a professional athlete.

I groan, shooting him a look before grabbing my wet rag and trying to get as much of the smudged paint as I can off the canvas. There’s still a dark spot, but it’s nothing I can’t paint over.

And I was so focused…

“What do you want?”

“It’s actually important, Isla, I swear.”

I wave him on, hoping he’ll get to it.

“I need you to join my fantasy league.”

A laugh builds inside me until it comes tumbling out with no restraint. I can’t help it. That’s one of the funniest things he’s ever said to me.

“Isla, I’mserious.”

“No, you’re not,” I tell him, getting up from the ground and heading for my kitchen to grab another glass of red wine. I fill my cup a little higher this time.

“Isla.”

“Owen,” I shoot back, meeting his green eyes.

Stressed, he wipes his hand through his hair, pulling at the ends a bit as he looks up, trying to think of what to say next. My brother is great at many things, but words are not always one of them.

“We need a twelfth person for the team. You’re someone we can add. I need you. Please?”

“Leo, we had the family league years ago. Remember how that went down?”

He stares at me as if he doesn’t, but I know he does.

Five years ago

The entire family sits around the table for dinner. My grandparents have been here since Christmas for an extended visit.

“So what’s the punishment for losing again?” my grandfather asks as he takes a slow sip of his scotch.

“You have to do the hottest chip challenge,” Leo tells him, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’re not making your grandfather eat that thing, Leo.”

“Yes, I am,” he throws back.

“Ellen, I’m fine, trust me. I’m old, not dead. I can take a spicy chip.

He couldn’t take the spicy chip.

He’s fine now, though, thank god.

“Isla, just listen to me, okay? Do this for me, and I’ll give you whatever you want. Seriously. I won’t bother you in here anymore. I’d give you the spare key, but apparently, you go into the hallway naked, and honestly, that concerns me, but otherwise, I would. I’ll leave you alone, I promise.”

Honestly, that kind of sounds promising…

“Do I have time to think about it?” I ask him.

His eye twitches before he looks down at the floor, his lips pursing. “It’s funny that you should ask that, actually, because I already set up your profile. And, well, the draft is in about half an hour.”

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