Page 38 of Pump Fake

“Aurora lives with us.”

“And she’s lovely. But we don’t know where she and Kylian will end up after the draft. Has he heard anything yet?”

“No.”

But he had an idea, and I hoped he was the first-round overall pick for the upcoming draft. Kylian had financial obligations with his mom’s medical bills. He’d planned to bail on college junior year, but then he’d gotten injured, and that had killed that plan. He was a gifted quarterback, and barring any more injuries, he had a promising career ahead. Besides, he’d bounced back to be an even stronger QB1 after the knife wound last year. So much so that ESPN was calling him the GOAT.

“Are you staying?” Preston’s voice was reed thin.

Fuck. How to answer that one?I couldn’t. “I don’t know.”

It all depended on the team that picked me—if I was still in the running. But football was my endgame, so I hoped the heat from the video was forgotten. School was fine, but I wasn’t interested in anything specific. My advisor had me takingbusiness and communications classes. I could always go into sportscasting if something happened, and Liam could do the same. Out of all of us, he was even less interested in anything outside the NFL, and I suspect he would have gone into the draft last year if all hell hadn’t broken loose with our best friend and his fiancée.

“I don’t want you to move away.”

The vulnerability in my nephew’s voice nearly broke me. “I don’t want to be far from you guys either. I hope to get picked up by a nearby team.”

Mom wrung her hands, her gaze bouncing between Preston and me. “If you transfer to another state, we could move with you. Not in the same house, of course, but in one of our own.”

“Really?” A weight lifted from my shoulders. “Would you be good with that, P?”

“Yes.” He grinned. “I can make friends anywhere, and if I do well on the team here, I’m sure I can get on one in whatever school we move to.”

Mom slapped her hand on the table. “Good. It’s settled. Nothing is holding you back, son. Preston and I will follow you. I can get a job anywhere.”

That wouldn’t be necessary once I played professionally. Mom worked too hard. I wanted her to quit for good. I would buy them a house and give her money so she could concentrate on P and living her life. She deserved a break. Life had been hard enough for all of us with my sister’s passing.

CHAPTER TWENTY

BRIELLE

Isat on the couch with Ser’s legs on my lap, half-eaten pints of ice cream on the coffee table and yet another romantic comedy playing on the TV. Mal had invited my little sis over, and they’d planned an intervention to get that asshole out of my head.

My eyes were still red rimmed from how cold Ares had been the night before. “I still can’t believe it.”Oh no, that was out loud.

“Believe it. All men are assholes now and again,” Mal commiserated.

“Make it easier on yourself and change teams.” Ser winked, making both me and Mal laugh.

“If only.” Mal sighed. “It would be so nice to be with someone who understood all the crap we go through as girls.”

“You’re talking about chocolate again, aren’t you?” That brought a smile to my face.

Mal was downright terrifying if someone ate her chocolate when it was one of those days she needed some. I’d done it once and had never repeated the sin. I’d thought her head would spin full circle. But I got it. I was that way too. So was Ser.

“Hormones are a bitch.”

“They are,” Ser agreed.

“Not to side with men.” Mal rolled her eyes. “But I do get their unnatural rage. Remember that time the doc switched my birth control pills?”

“Holy shit.” I chuckled. “That was hell week on steroids.”

“Right? Talk about hormone imbalance. Tri-whatever-it-was-called was an unnatural mix of hormones that caused instant rage.”

“Didn’t you get into that fight at the bookstore then?” Ser pulled her long dark-brown hair over her shoulder.

I loved her hair. Our coloring was so different, and she’d gotten the better end of the gene pool in my opinion. She, of course, would have preferred my eye color but was happy with her hair.

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