Page 84 of Teasing

I suck in a lung full of the humid late summer air and look for Ryker.

Everyone is heading off the field for the locker room when I find him. I grab his head and make sure he can read my lips. “You good?”

“Yeah. I’m good.” It’s his first pro game. He’s not going to admit it, but he’s freaking out. We all do it.

“Harness that energy, brother. Don’t let it control you. Never let them forget who the fuck you are.”

His whole body vibrates with energy ready to spend, and for half a fucking second, I see the little kid he was when we played peewee ball. “You’re a goddamned Beneventi. This game is in your fucking blood. This team is your fucking family. Never forget it.” I press my head to his. “So ready to be on that field with you.”

Ryker pounds my shoulders with a crazy fucking grin. “Legacy, right?”

“Our fucking legacy.”

Declan walks into the locker room as the team gets into the zone.

Some guys use music, others wear noise-canceling headphones to block it all out.

I walk around my defensive line, hyping them up, making sure they’re good. So fucking ready to make today’s team my bitch.

We’re a little on edge, hoping Camden and the new offensive line fall into a groove that works today, after a rough week at practice. But our defense is ready to carry the weight if we need to. We arenotlosing this game.

Declan stands in the center of the room and waits for silence without uttering a word. He doesn’t need to. His presence alone demands we listen. Commands our respect. And once he’s got it, a slow, borderline-maniacal grin slides into place.

“You feel that, gentlemen?” No one answers. “It’s the privilege of pressure. A million men would give their left nut to swap places with you, but they can’t. They’re not you. They’re not as strong. Or as fast. Or as tough as you.”

He looks around his coaching staff, a silent conversation passing between them. “They haven’t spent their lives honing their bodies to be weapons of war. And don’t doubt for a second that you’re not going to war this season—because you are. Seventeen battles wait for you, and the first one starts today.”

He locks eyes with me, and I know what he’s saying.

I’m the only returning captain setting foot on that field today.

“Remember what I said at the start of camp? We’re everyone’s championship game. We’re the measuring stick they use to prove their worth. Don’t let them be worthy. The target on our backs is painted in neon, and it’s big. But it’s still up to you. This game—this season—they’re yours to win or yours to lose. You’re bigger. You’re better. You’re stronger. Because you are fucking Kings.”

A roar works its way through the team as excitement and determination settle deep in my bones.

“And what do Kings do?” he hollers into the room.

“Kings build legacies,” we all yell back, echoing Coach Joe Sinclair’s mantra that’s become a team-defining chant.

“It’s time for you to decide what you want this legacy to be. And it starts with winning this .”

Emmie

Iwill not geek out.

I. Will. Not. Geek. Out.

With Rosie’s hand in mine and matching Kings jerseys and VIP lanyards hanging from our necks, we’re escorted into the Kingston family’s private box suite for the very first game of the season, and I’m not sure who is more excited. Me or Rosie. My fear of geeking out is seriously messing with me, and walking into the suite and having Sebastian Beneventi be the first one to see us doesn’t help me at all.

Screw Vivi. Dad is never going to believe this.

“Grandpop,” Rosie squeals and throws herself at him as if she hadn’t just spent the night at his house. Bash catches her in his strong arms, and if the resemblance between him and Maverick?—

“It’s uncanny, isn’t it?” Lenny asks as she moves beside me, reading my mind.

“The resemblance?” I ask, and she nods. “It really is. Maverick certainly looks like his father.”

“He does. I didn’t have a thing to do with that one. Ryker takes after me though, so at least I got one.” Her shoulder brushes mine, and she laughs. “Relax, Emmie. We won’t bite. I promise.”

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