Page 11 of Laws of Love
Knox pulled up in front of Ezra’s house a little after eight. He’d been right in suspecting that his friend was having a small gathering. There were only a few other cars there. One Knox recognized as Wolfe’s, another one of their friends, and another car as Coen’s, Ezra’s little brother. The other two he was unfamiliar with, but Ezra was always meeting new people, making friends he’d bring around them once or twice and then never again. Usually, because of Wolfe. Their friend had no filter, didn’t care what he said to anyone, and was a hard-ass 90 percent of the time.
Getting out of his vehicle, Knox went to the front door. He knocked, and a few seconds later, Ezra pulled the door open. The relief Knox saw on the other man’s face let him know that something had already gone down.
“What’s going on?” Knox questioned as Ezra stepped aside to let him in.
“I’m questioning why I attempt to introduce Wolfe to anyone new,” Ezra responded, closing the door.
“I’ve been questioning that since the day you started. It takes a special type of person to deal with Wolfe, and you know he seldom likes anyone.”
It was true. Knox typically wondered how the three of them became friends back in college because Wolfe was an asshole of a different caliber. If Knox had to guess, he’d figured it had something to do with the fact that he could snap back just as good as Wolfe gave. While the other man’s attitude had never phased Ezra since there was little that actually seemed to bother Ezra.
“Where is he?” Knox questioned.
“In the living room with the others, that he so casually offended.”
Shaking his head, Knox went to the living room. It wasn’t rare that he was put on Wolfe duty. Not that it did any good because, mostly, the other man still said and did what he wanted to. All Knox really did was shoot him looks or talk over him when he was sure something that would offend someone was about to come out of Wolfe’s mouth.
When Knox stepped into the living room, he could feel the tension. It was as if it’d been building for hours, and he knew that was impossible considering it wasn’t even eight-thirty yet.
“You’re saying I’m wrong?” Knox listened as one of the three other men in the room he didn’t know questioned.
“Yes,” Wolfe responded before taking a drink of whatever was in his cup. “You’re basing your opinion on your bias and lies.”
“I’m not biased, and they’re facts.”
“Facts you made up. So, lies,” Wolfe responded.
Knox looked between the two men as Coen walked over and stood beside him and Ezra. The look of amusement on his face was a sure sign that he was thoroughly enjoying this back and forth.
“What are they even arguing about?” Knox questioned.
“Hall of fame and sports statistics,” Coen responded, smirking at Knox. “Poor Larry. He doesn’t know he’s fighting a losing battle.”
Knox assumed that was the man currently going back and forth with Wolfe, and Coen was right. He was indeed fighting a losing battle. He assumed the other man did not know who Wolfe was, which wasn’t unusual. Unless you knew him personally, worked for him, or were a die-hard fan and enjoyed knowing every statistic of your favorite team or player, most people simply knew him asThe Analyst. It was a ridiculous name. They all thought so, but it was fitting. His friend was the best sports analyst in a decade easily. He’d built an entire business off of it. Wolfe didn’t just work for one team like analysts often did. He freelanced with any team willing to pay his fee, and he specialized in several sports, not just one.
If his known name came up beside any athlete as a player to watch, teams were scrambling for that player. On the opposite end of that, a player could find themselves out of a job if they found themselves on the receiving end of an analysis where Wolfe decided they were of no further asset to the team they were on.
So, yeah. Larry, unfortunately, was swimming against the tide in this current debate, and he’d drown pretty soon if it kept up.
“You’re trying to tell me I’m wrong?” Larry questioned again.
“I’m not trying to. I am,” Wolfe countered in a bored tone.
Knox didn’t know who they were talking about, but Larry bristled at the response. “He’s leading the league right now, and he’s broken the hall of fame record for receptions in a single game with thirteen in the last game. He’s the best wide receiver the league has had in years.”
Knox raised an eyebrow and took slight offense at that. Everyone was entitled to their own opinion, but hewasstanding in the damn room.
Wolfe inclined his head in Knox’s direction. Knox wasn’t surprised his friend knew he’d arrived even without acknowledging him till then. “Knox hasn’t played in over three years, has had two ACL injuries, and could still outpace him. Your boy is mediocre, and his stats are as well.” Wolf then gave his full attention to him. “What was your record for receptions in a single game?”
“Seventeen,” Knox responded. “And I don’t hold the hall of fame record,” he added on.
Larry looked between Knox and Wolfe as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing, which Knox didn’t understand. He had no reason to lie about his stats.
“Google is free, you know. It’d help you look like less of a dumbass next time,” Wolfe informed Larry before walking past Knox, Ezra, and Coen out of the living room.
“You two put out this fire,” Knox instructed them. “I’ll go deal with the gasoline that fueled it.”
Knox went into the kitchen to find Wolfe going through Ezra’s refrigerator. He leaned against the counter, allowing the silence between them to hang in the air for several minutes.
