Page 69 of The Wildcat

I want to ask if they know who hurt my girl because somebody did.

But it’s not their place to tell me if theydoknow.

That has to come from her.

“Yeah,” Maddox agrees. “Trouble didn’t date.”

“Trouble?” I ask, trying to follow along.

“It’s what Maddox calls Lindy,” Easton explains.

“Yeah. She didn’t date,” Maddox adds, and Easton’s chest puffs up like a peacock. “And Brynn’s dad is a former heavyweight MMA champion, so nobody was willing to go near her. And Kenzie was always more interested in school than guys. But fucking A. The twins. The twins had to beat guys away with a fucking stick their whole lives.”

Callen nods. “More likewedid. Every asshole with eyes hit on them.”

“Yeah. Have fun with that. We’re officially passing the baton. They’re yours.” Maddox grins, and it’s a little fucking creepy.

“Only one of them is mine,” I say with a smile. Because she really is.

“Nope. They’re a package deal.” Callen wraps an arm around me and walks me to a front row seat next to Everly’s family. “Good luck, dude.”

The lights blink, and the curtain opens after a minute to a band on the platform at the back of the t-shaped stage. Everly’s cousin Lilah comes out with a microphone in hand. “Hey, everyone. I’m Lilah Ryan, and I’m so excited to be here tonight, celebrating my incredible aunts and their beautiful lingerie.”

A light beat is ticked off on the drums before the tiny blonde starts humming along and opens her mouth.

Holy. Shit.

That voice.

That’s when it clicks.

That’s Lilah Ryan.

TheLilah Ryan who’s been touring the country and is on every radio station and every Instagram reel you hear. That’s Everly’s cousin.

Lilah sings in the center of the catwalk as models strut up and down for a solid twenty minutes. Some are dressed in sexypajamas. Little nighties. Sheer robes. Every bra and underwear combo I could have ever imagined.

Once Lilah announces the last song and Kenzie walks out, I hold my fucking breath.

She goes first, wearing a vintage black Philadelphia Kings t-shirt tied in a knot above her stomach, along with black bikini bottoms.

Brynlee follows her in a dark-green Crucible gym muscle tee. A hot-pink bra peeks out of the big sleeve openings, and when she turns around to strut back, I’m not sure who groans louder, Ares or Callen, because my physical therapist’s very fine ass is on full display in an emerald-green thong.

Callen doesn’t sound happy.

Serves him right for torturing me.

Shithead.

Lindy comes up behind Lilah next, and Easton groans. She’s wearing a shrunken Revolution jersey with navy-blue, sparkly boy-cut underwear. Definitely the most covered of the group. “Dude. Chill,” Callen tells him. “She wears less than that on the beach.”

“Fuck off, Sinclair.”

I bite back my laugh because even from here, I can see Gracie coming next, which means Everly is last. Grace has pink panties and a tight, white, ribbed Kings tank top with Sinclair and the number thirteen written in some kind of pink glitter on the back. You’d think since she looks just like Everly, I’d like seeing her half naked, but it does nothing for me. Even before I see Everly step foot on stage and high-five her cousin as she passes her, I feel her.

Holy. Fucking. Hell.

Her golden hair sits high on her head in a ponytail, falling in big curls down her back. Dramatic makeup makes her aqua eyes pop, and those pouty lips are painted cherry red. And damn,if they don’t match the tiny, cropped red Revolution tee she’s wearing. With short little sleeves, it’s cropped just under her chest, so I can see the bottom of her boobs bouncing with each step she takes in her red-soled heels. From the front, her red panties look like plain lace and silk. But when she gets to the end of the runway, I fight not to make a sound. Which is good because Everly’s dad is seated a few seats down from me, and he’s making enough comments for all of us. Poor guy.

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