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“They didn’t say—”

“I asked them not to. They are proud of you, and you were an adorable child, unfortunate haircuts notwithstanding.” I groan, closing my eyes and dropping my chin when I realize my mother showed former NFL superstar Andres Abbott my baby pictures. I glare at Beiler when he snickers, he just shrugs unrepentantly. “Your father outlined in detail many changes that you areanxious to implement when you take over. And I believe those changes are going to change the world. One child at a time. When the season is over, when things have calmed down, take a look at my company, our cornerstone values, and the contract I’ve drawn up. I am invested in partnering with you and your farming neighbors for a healthier tomorrow.”

My flabbers have been ghasted. What the hell just happened? Andres Abbott knows who I am! And he wants to work with me because of my brain, not my athleticism. Holy Shit!

“Thank you, sir.” My voice comes out warbled but I don’t care. This is incredible!

“There’s a contract in there for Miss Kerr as well, so be sure to discuss it over with her.”

“How did you—”

“My assistants areverygood at their job.”

“Clearly.”

“She isn’t…he’s not…they aren’t dating! Someone like Crue Pribula would never be with some mutt—”

Abbott spins on his heels, his body poised to strike. “I would be very careful of your word selections,Fred. We are all combinations of different heritages, a blending of cultures.” He runs his dark gaze over Coach’s face and upper body with a sneer. “Some of those mixes turn out better than others.”

“Thank you, Mr. Abbott, I will talk this over with Phia and we’ll be in touch.”

“Good luck, Crue, with the rest of your season, and wooing Miss Kerr.” He winks as he passes me, patting me on the shoulder on his way out. “Brandon, I’ll be in touch about Gill, Hall, and Staunton.”

“I’m the head coach! You’ll talk to me—” Abbott shuts the door behind him, cutting off Heacock. He’s nearly apoplectic, the vein in his forehead thumping wildly, his eyes manic. Beiler and I move out of the way just in time to avoid the stapler he throws at the door. It shatters the small window. “YOU!” He points a gnarled finger in my direction as he rounds his desk. “You are a disgrace to this school! To the sport! To mankind! If the game wasn’t so important, I’d bench your ass right now! Fuck! I’d kick you out of the stadium and run you over with my car! How dare you embarrass me like that in front of a scout!”

I think he’s handling the embarrassment all on his own. Beiler tilts his head toward the broken door, and I take that as my cue to leave. He’s behind me, stepping over shards of glass, walking down the hall toward the locker room. I need to get ready for the game and Beiler needs to coach…Heacock is currently not in the right frame of mind to lead the team. Not that he does that anyway.

Beiler taps on my shoulder a few feet away from the office. I glance over my shoulder to see his blinding, victorious smile first, then the cell phone he’s holding in his hand. “Recorded the whole thing.” His voice is low, but I hear him loud and clear.

“Fuckin’ A!” I run into the locker room, waving my hands wildly. “WHOSE HOUSE?”

“OUR HOUSE!”

“WE ARE!”

“STATE!”

“WE ARE!”

“STATE!”

Phia 9.

“Dammit!” I quickly shut off the faucet, then jump back as the water flows over the lip of the industrial basin. I was lost in thought…again. Crue is distracting on a normal day, but today, on that field—Focus, Phia! I wait for the tub to drain, grab some towels and clean up my mess.

He was different today. He’s an exceptional football player, always. Today’s game was something else. A usually worthy opponent, the other team was unable to keep up with our offense or defense. Plays were crisp and precise. Our quarterback was nearly flawless. A shutout, unheard of against the rival team.

And Crue…aggressive, an unstoppable force, fierce protector. He was everywhere at once, it seemed. And when the clock ran out, he rushed past his teammates, picked me up and bounced me before kissing me soundly on the sidelines for everyone to see.

Hence my ill-timed distraction.

I finish cleaning up my mess, stack the equipment to dry, turn off the lights and head toward the locker room to wait for Crue. After kissing me, he told me to stay behind until he’s done so he can walk me home. I open the notes app on my phone and start typing. My fingers blur across the screen as I make note of everything I saw and heard today, and then, not for the first time, I note my own feelings. Not about Crue specifically, but the draw of the culture, the familial and tribal atmosphere and mypart in it. My pride for Crue and his teammates and their epic victory.

“Pretty girl.” A smooth voice croons next to me and while my body jerks in surprise, I melt into his side, happy he’s finally with me again. It’s astounding how much I feel for him in such a short amount of time. With each look, conversation, touch, our hearts become inextricably linked. I pray every night when we end our phone calls and after every good night kiss that we never have cause to separate them.

Prib wraps his arms around my middle and drops his face to my neck. He breathes me in and groans as he exhales, cinching his hold tighter and drawing me closer. My back to the wall, he runs his tongue up the side of my neck until he finds my mouth. We kiss, tongues tangling, lazy and unhurried. Beneath my roving fingers, I feel the tension in the lines of his body. He’s strung tight, but he’s being gentle for me.

“Come on, let’s go home.” Home. That word, innocuous and yet so integral to who we are as people. It means so many different things to so many different people. My apartment is a home. This school is a home. But Crue, he’smyhome.

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