Page 43 of Pump Fake

“About scouts?” Liam started another game, and his focus was back on the screen. “Minnesota’s looking at me. What about you?”

“Texas, Florida, and a couple of others, but those two are at the top of my list.” Kylian smacked my leg. “What about you?”

“Coach hasn’t said specifics, only that he’s taking meetings about me. I’m just staying positive about it after everything that’s happened this year.”

“I hear you on that.” Kylian sighed.

He’d gone through hell last year, putting an end to going into the draft early. It’d all worked out for him, though. But it seemed senior year was my gauntlet to run, and I was ready for it.

“What’s going on with you and Brielle?” Kylian asked. “Is that turning into a more permanent thing?”

“Come on,” Liam grumbled. “Stay single. I already lost Kylian as a wingman, not you too.”

His comments would have annoyed me if I didn’t know Liam as well as I did. There was more to him than people saw when they hadn’t known him for years. The attitude was real, as was his rivalry with the hockey star Maverick Davis. It was his mistrust of relationships, the love-’em-and-leave-’em motto that hid a painful past not many were privy to.

I ignored Liam’s comments. He didn’t expect an answer anyway. “Honestly, I don’t miss the drama of hookups. Hanging with Brielle these past few months has added clarity and happiness I never expected to have.”

“She’s not too bad,” Liam agreed. “Aurora’s the best, though.”

Kylian threw a pillow at his head. “She’s not your personal chef, asshole.”

Liam winked at me before baiting Kylian again. “I wasn’t talking about her cooking.”

Kylian reached across me and punched him in the shoulder. “Get a girlfriend already.”

I pushed to my feet and cracked Liam across the back of the head for good measure. “I’m out. Meeting Brielle for dinner. I’ll catch you guys later.”

Traffic was light as I drove the few blocks to her dorm. Mist dusted the windshield, and the soft glow of the street lamps reflected on the wet pavement. She’d messaged that she was running late from teaching, so I’d waited an additional five minutes before I left the condo. Even with that, I would probably get there at the same time she did. It didn’t take long before I was parked in front of Brielle’s dorm.

I opened the door and stepped out into the cool night that worked to coat me in a fine sheen of moisture. As I rounded the car, I caught sight of Brielle hurrying to her front door, umbrella open, her head bent as she avoided puddles. A tall man in a black hoodie shadowed her steps. Something about the way he moved gave me pause. As she reached for the door, his arm extended—not to hold it open for her, but to grab her arm.

“Hey!” I shouted and broke into a sprint.

Brielle paused, the door partially open. As she turned toward me, the guy pivoted. Head down, he hurried around the corner of the building. His behavior confirmed that something had almost happened.

“Ares.” Brielle grinned. “I thought I would beat you here. I just need to drop my stuff in my room before we leave.”

I grunted in response, my gaze fixed on where the guy had disappeared. I ushered her in, waiting while she got her umbrella situated before we entered the stairwell to her second-floor dorm room. “Do you know that guy behind you?”

“What?” Her gaze jumped to mine, and her foot came down awkwardly on the step. “What are you talking about?”

“It looked like he reached for you.” I described his height and what he was wearing. “I got a bad read on the guy. That’s why I yelled.”

Brielle grabbed my hand. “Come on. I’ll explain in my room.”

I raced up the stairs with her. She unlocked her door and slammed it behind us, startling Mal, who was hunched over her computer, furiously typing.

“Hi, guys.” Mal noticed our serious faces and mirrored them. “What’s wrong?”

“Remember the guy I told you about at the park and the game?” Brielle rushed in after dropping her bag by her bed. “He followed me to the dorm. I didn’t realize it with the rain until Ares interrupted whatever he intended to do.”

“He was about to grab you.” I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached. “Tell me what’s going on, then we need to call the police.”

“I don’t think we should involve the police… yet. I—uh—I need to talk to my dad before we do that.” Brielle paced in the small space of the suite’s shared room. “It’s just that, um, my mom’s been going on and on about being followed. She swore my dad owed money to the mob, but I didn’t believe her until recently.” She paused and faced me. “I think they’re going to do something. My dad can’t pay them. He’s in jail. That leaves my mom.”

“Or you,” I growled. “You can’t stay here. Move in with me. We have a doorman and security. It’s safer.”

She worried her lip with her teeth before coming to a decision. “Okay, if you’re sure.” Then her gaze found Mal’s. “But… Ser.”

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