I don’t bother answering as I stare at my car—a hand-me-down from Uncle Dusty, and the only thing in this life that’s completely mine. It’s sitting on bricks, and to make sure I know he’s proving a point, and that this isn’t some criminal act, all four tires are stacked neatly on the trunk. Beside them, the lug nuts rest neatly in a pile. The bastard even left me a jack and a four-way lug wrench to reassemble it all myself.
Heat sweeps up my chest and neck, finally reaching my face. I’m seeing red as I take it all in, consider the time and energy that dick put into this stunt. After football practice, at that.
“Where … is he?” I ask through gritted teeth.
Five of the players standing by point toward the field house, but not Dane and Sterling. Instead, Sterling sprints to step into my path when I start toward the building to kill their brother. He towers over me like West, and he even stares down on me with those same green eyes like him. It only infuriates me more that he looks so much like him.
We’re out of earshot now, so no one can hear me snap at him.
“Move.”
“Just thought you should know it’s a bad idea for you to go in there,” he warns with a smirk. His voice drags over the words, unhurried, making light of my car sitting on freakin’ bricks right now.
It’s so clear he doesn’t care, has no idea how exhausted I am. I worked nearly every day after school last week, on days I didn’t have Journalism Club, that is. Then, on top of it all, I had to be at another game this past Friday to get pics for the paper. Add to that the two double shifts I worked Saturday and Sunday, and I feel like I haven’t had a break in forever.
I glare at him when his massive hands land on my shoulders, holding me in place.
“If you’re fond of your nuts not rolling across this parking lot like tumbleweed, I suggest you get your hands off me and get out of the way,” I hiss.
His brow quirks in that smug way West’s does, and I want to do him bodily harm. But he does let go, so I don’t make good on my threat just yet.
“I’m looking out for you,” he insists. “Not sure if you’ve figured out how things work around here yet, but the more you screw with West, the worse you make things for yourself.”
“Your brother isn’t some sort of god,” I remind him. “He doesn’t scare me.”
I pray he bought that, because some days I’m not so sure it’s completely true.
“Just sayin’, if you’re smart, you’ll just piece that death trap back together and take your ass back across town,” he adds, pointing at my car.
The nerve of these dicks is unbelievable. Does he really think I’m just going to let his brother get away with this? Absolutely not.
Sterling freezes when I lean closer, invading his space like his psycho brother loves to do. As much as I hate it, the rush of power I feel in this moment explains why West uses this as a tactic.
“Not sure who your brother thinks he’s dealing with, but he can count on one thing,” I warn. “When someone fucks with me, they can expect me to throw it right back at them. And that especially goes for your brother.”
My shoulder slams Sterling’s when I push by him. He doesn’t bother trying to stop me this time, and I don’t miss the half-cocked smile set on his lips when I glance back.
I storm toward the fieldhouse and drop my bag in front of the door the second I enter. My sneakers squeak across the white tile and I hype myself up while passing rows of benches and lockers where some of the team still linger, but no West. I don’t acknowledge the sideways glances and questioning stares I pass, because I have one goal in mind.
I’m going to find and hurt West Golden.
Stomping toward the back of the locker room, I try to ignore the fact that I hear running water. It’s a wonder I’ve made it this far without their coach spotting me from his office, but he’s nose-deep in what I guess to be the team playbook and doesn’t notice.
For a fraction of a second, I’m tempted to turn back, imagining what I might walk in on when I reach my destination, but fuck that.
I force myself to charge full steam ahead, but I can admit I’m not nearly as confident as before. For some reason, it hadn’t dawned on me that some of the guys might not be decent. I’m too deep in to quit now, though.
Then, I soon realize I should’ve followed my gut and waited in the parking lot. Because when I turn the corner, I walk in on several members of the team still showering. Even with them all fully exposed, I swear I barely even notice once I spot West.
All … of West.
His back is to me, but I see enough. Skin that still holds his summer tan, ink that wraps around his solid biceps and across his shoulder blades. There’s hard muscle everywhere. I sigh a little, releasing the pressure that’s built up inside me. However, it doesn’t help at all because I still haven’t turned away.
He’s soaked and lathered from head to toe, like some sort of wet dream playing out before me, in real-time. Half a second passes before I gather myself and remember why I’m here. Then, the soles of my shoes slosh through water that pools near the drain, and the second I’m within arm’s reach, I gather all my rage and frustration from the past few weeks and slam my fist right between West’s shoulder blades. Having been taught to fight, I know I’m not weak by any means,
