Page 27 of Courtside

Brinley reached across to lay a soft hand on Sage’s arm. “Fucking terrified. But it’s worth it. At least, in my mind, the possibility of a good outcome outweighs the fear of it all going to shit.”

“Speaking of it all going to shit,” Sage said, needing to change the subject. “You heard from Dad recently?”

“The customary birthday card and two hundred bucks,” Brinley responded. “Mom got going about him the other day. I guess his wife posted a family photo from a resort in Mexico, which set her off. No matter how many times I tell her that she doesn’thaveto stalk his new family online, she still does it.” She shook her head. “Do you think she’s ever going to move on? I mean, it’s been over ten years since he left.”

“Honestly? I think that at this point the hate is so much a part of who she is that I can’t really imagine her letting it go.”

Brinley got quiet, seeming to soak in Sage’s words. For a few minutes, it was just the sound of the tires against the pavement and the occasional distant siren or horn.

Finally, she spoke, just as they were pulling into the airport. “Don’t let Mom get to you, Sage,” she said softly. “I know you had the whole thing with Evan that didn’t help, but you survived that. I mean, look at you. You’re a badass. Don’t let other people’s bullshit steal your life.”

Pulling up to the curb and throwing her car into park, Sage lunged across the console and pulled her sister into a hug. She tucked her face into the soft skin of her neck, deeply inhaling Brinley’s comforting and familiar floral scent.

“Love you,” she said, the words muffled against Brinley’s skin.

Brinley returned the hug, holding Sage tightly against her. “Love you too.” She gave one final squeeze and then pulled away. “Call me all the time.”

“You too.” Sage smiled, overwhelmed with fondness for her sister. She was so fucking lucky to have someone like Brinley in her corner.

They exchanged a final hug, and Sage lingered at the curb long enough to watch Brinley’s perfectly straightened hair swish through the automatic doors.

* * *

Back at her apartment, she tackled her normal workout, pushing through the hungover discomfort. By the end she was a sweaty mess, and her entire body had a distinctly tequila-ish scent.Disgusting.

She pushed the gym door open, relieved that at least her headache had faded. Now she just needed a shower.

“Sage!”

She turned at the sound of her name, and immediately froze.

DavidfuckingHughes, looking absolutely mouth-watering in basketball shorts and an old mesh jersey, was walking a tiny dog and waving at her.

Arms. Holy fuckingarms. Shoulders and arms. His shoulders were broad, and rounded muscles tapered down to his defined biceps. And his forearms were ripped.How were his forearms so ripped?

She needed to say something.Don’t be weird, Sage.

“You have a dog,” she blurted out. Immediately, she felt her face heat.

David’s face broke out into a fond smile as he looked down at the small, wriggling dog that pranced about on the sidewalk in front of him. He bent down, picking up the golden-colored creature and cradling it into his chest as he scratched the floppy ears, his hands appearing gigantic next to the small animal.

“This is Daisy,” he said, walking up to Sage.

Sage wasn’t someone who was easily moved by cute things. Tiny pigs in teacups didn’t do it for her. But the sight of this massive, powerful man basicallynuzzlingat this dog had turned her bones to goo. Straight upgoo.

“She’s so cute,” she said, her hand unconsciously reaching for the bundle of fur. She froze, glancing up at David, who was still smiling like a goon. “May I,” she asked, nodding toward her hand.

He held the dog out to her.

She lightly scratched at the tiny head with her fingers. Daisy leaned into the touch, her little tongue hanging out one side of the wide grin that showed impossibly small teeth.

“Oh aren’t you just perfect,” Sage breathed, smiling at the dog. “You seriously couldn’t be more cute.”

“When I moved back my mom came to visit and, in her words, ‘I needed to get a dog to make my life less sad,’” David said, and when Sage looked up at his face, she saw a softness in his eyes as he looked down at Daisy. “I had plans to adopt something big and burly but then Daisy looked at me with those big eyes and I was hopeless.”

It was Sage’s favorite trope to read: the big, gruff cowboy caring for a wounded pony or baking pies. Physical brawn offset by softness absolutely ruined her.

“Well good on your mom, then,” Sage said, smoothing down the golden hair that she’d ruffled on Daisy’s head. Stepping back, she steeled herself for what she knew she needed to say next.

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