Page 27 of Stealing Forever

As he stalks off, Sailor starts to squirm and asks me to let her down, then takes off running after him, excited to make a new friend.

Her pigtails bounce as she races past the table with the trays of sides we’re about to indulge in, and Hailey laughs. “I’ll go with her.”

As soon as she’s out of earshot, the two remaining sets of eyes snap in my direction.

“You didn’t tell us abouther.” Austin tips his head at the fiery redhead getting further from view. “No wonder you’d rather be at home than go out with us.”

“You invited me out one time,” I deadpan.

“Yeah, and you declined.”

“Because Hailey had somewhere she needed to be.” Why the fuck am I arguing with him? “Help me get the chicken off the grill, would ya?” I thrust the tongs in his direction then glance at Jensen, shaking my head.

He shrugs. “You’ll get used to his shit. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree—wait until you meet his family.”

“What about you, Jensen?” I ask lightly. “Where’s your family tonight?

“Didn’t even invite them, Coach. A barbecue isn’t worth a trip up from SoCal. Not when we’ll be down there next weekend.”

“I get that. Are you ready for opening weekend?”

“Yeah, I just wish it wasn’t against the fucking Rebels.”

“It’s too bad they’re away games. Can you bring this tray to the table?” I extend a platter piled high with chicken in his direction.

“Yeah, no problem.” Jensen takes it from me then stalks off to go put it with the other food, and I can’t help but watch him as he leaves.

There’s a lot to unpack with him, and I’m not sure what his entire story is—I only know surface level from what he’s told me. One thing I know for sure, though, is he’s going to be pissed if Owen Marsh does end up getting traded to the Bears midseason like Blake is pushing for. Jensen has never told me why he hates Marsh so much, so as he returns to grab the second tray of meat, I ask him. “What’s the deal between you and Marsh?”

Jensen freezes, his face immediately erupting into a scowl. “Why?”

I shrug, nonchalantly, like I’m not thinking about the impending trade. “Just wondering. I know he’s an issue for you, and I want to know why.” I don’t tell him it’s because I know I’m going to have to deal with their drama.

Glancing around to see who’s near us, Jensen sets the tray back on the small table, then folds his arms over his chest. “Iwent to college with him and his sister Layla—she was two years our junior. Owen and I never got along, despite being on the same team. He always had a chip on his shoulder thinking he was better than me—loved to talk shit. Dating his sisterreallypissed him off, but when I broke up with her, she turned into a woman scorned, and she and Owen decided to try to ruin my career, and my life.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, like he’s reliving it again. Clenching his jaw, he exhales through his nose before continuing. “She took false rape allegations to the dean and tried to get me kicked out of school. If I hadn’t had a friendly relationship with him, I would have probably been arrested too, but he knows my pops, and he also knows the type of shithead Owen is, so he basically interviewed a jury of our peers, and the allegations didn’t stick.”

My jaw goes slack.What kind of asshole goes along with rape allegations just to ruin someone’s career?“You fucking kidding me?”

“I wish I was. It may have happened several years ago, but it’s not water under the bridge.”

“Can’t say I blame you. How old are you, Fields?”

“Twenty-six.”

So this probably happened a good four or five years ago. “Well, you’re handling it a hell of a lot better than I would in your position. I probably would have gone to jail for kicking his ass.”

Now I have to make sure I talk to Blake and try to talk him out of that trade.

Jensen shrugs. “I’m just trying to live my life. The less I have to see that asshole the better, but I give you my word that I won’t start shit while on the field. Can’t say the same off the field though.”

Despite the heaviness in our conversation, Jensen cracks a smile which I mirror.

“Just do me a favor and don’t get arrested. We need you out there,” I tease, although after hearing his story, I wouldn’t blame him if he was tempted. I give him credit for having the maturity to be the bigger man.

“Sounds manageable, Coach.” He picks up the tray again, and leaves to go place it on the table.

As he’s walking away, Sailor comes bounding back toward me at full speed, and I use my dad reflexes to catch her mid-jump. “I made a friend!” she squeals excitedly.

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