Thank God. Why couldn’t I control my mouth?
“What?!” He threw his arms in the air as the whistle blew.
I didn’t see what had happened, but the ref gave possession to Ben’s team and Stewart’s face twisted in anger as his mouth flapped.
“The ref has his head up his arse,” Will spat.
My eyelids peeled back. “I beg your pardon?”
“What? Arse isn’t a swear word. Dad says it all the time.”
“Dad says a lot of words that you shouldn’t be saying. Now who owes the swear jar?”
“You won’t dob on me.”
I jammed my hands on my hips. “Is that right?”
“Yup.” He nodded.
“Why’s that?”
“’Cause if you do, I’ll tell everyone you like Ben.”
My jaw hit the turf. You, manipulative, perceptive little shit. I clamped my teeth together before turning away to walk back towards Dad. There was no point denying it. My face couldn’t lie for shit.
“I’m going to see what snacks Dad has. You coming?”
“Yeah.” His eyes widened. “Are you angry with me?”
“No. I’m just hungry.” I may have stomped rather than walked behind the scattering of spectators. I wasn’t mad at him for calling me out. I was pissed at myself for being so tragically obvious.
“You talk about him in your sleep.”
I pulled to a stop. What? Oh, my God. It was worse than I thought.Narrowing my eyes, I stared at the ground. Will walked on ahead for a few more steps before searching for me.
“What do I say?” I chewed on my lip.
“Ben, mumble, mumble. Baby, mumble, mumble. I dunno. It was gibberish.” Will paused to lick his fingers. “You also said M. E. Line.”
What the hell does M. E. Line mean? I rubbed my hands on my denim-covered thighs before hiding them in my raincoat pockets. Had I always talked in my sleep? What else had I been saying?
I made my feet move as my head tried to sort through his revelations. Glancing back to the game, I sought out Ben’s dark hair. What was it about him? Why was my attraction to him so strong that he was invading my dreams?
Ben’s teeth bared in animalistic rage as he hunted his prey—the ball. His arm hooked around the waist of a player from our team, felling him so he couldn’t dispose of the ball. I searched all the faces. Every player had transformed from son and brother to hunter and the hunted. I half expected to see fur, feathers, and scales catching on the wind. Why did everyone like this game so much? Why was this brutality celebrated? Did I really want to be with someone who loved smacking down the enemy on his days off? I listed the cons and laid them out like stepping stones leading in a whole other direction. A path that was safe and stable and wouldn’t make me feel as off balance as I’d felt the moment I’d set eyes on Ben.
Yeah, my heart was playing tricks on me. I’m good. We’re good. It’s all good. I let out a breath.
“Hey, Adam,” Will chirped.
I found my seat, smiling as my little brother dumped the paper bag on his chair and ran off with his friend.
Adam’s hair was just as dark as his brother’s. His eyes were brown, though. Maybe it was too early to tell, but he wasn’t going to be as big as Ben. Will was at least two inches taller than Adam.
They came running back as Dad jumped out of his chair, yelling and whistling.
“Did Stew get a try?” Will asked.
Dad reclaimed his seat and picked up his can. “Nah, but he set it up.”
Will’s shoulders shrugged, like that wasn’t impressive enough for a show of enthusiasm. “This is my sister, Andy. And my dad.” He told Adam, pointing a finger at each of us in introduction.
“Hey, Adam. Nice to meet you.” Oh, he was a cutie. He gave me a shy wave and glanced at the back of Dad’s head. Dad was too enthralled in the game to notice we had a visitor. I felt sorry for the kid, but he wasn’t going to get much out of Dad until the final siren.
I knew just how to keep the boys’ minds occupied and their energy spent.
“Do you guys wanna race?”
“I bet we can beat you to the try line.” Will wore a cheeky, gap-toothed smile.
“I bet you can, too, but I’m gonna give you a run for your money. What’s your wager?”
“My way—what?” He scrunched his blond brows and pointed to the end of the field. “That way ... duh.” Rolling his eyes like I was an imbecile, he crouched in a racing stance.
I had to giggle under my breath. He liked to think he was the same age as me—fourteen—rather than the reality that was six years shy of his ambition. Adam followed his lead, lining up to go.
“A wager is a bet. You said you bet you can beat me. So what do I win if you lose?” I tapped my finger on my chin and gave him my most serious face. “I know. If I win, you have to draw me a picture of my favourite person. What would you like if you win?”
Adam’s eyes squinted and he bit his lip, mining for the answer.
“Easy. An ice cream. Double scoop. Chocolate.” Will grinned and rubbed his palms together.
“Ice cream. Yeah, I want that, too.” Adam’s head bobbed as his decision was made.
Will smiled at his friend. Watching his freckled face, the centre of my chest tugged just like it did every time we saw each other. I loved this kid to bits even though he was a pain in the butt sometimes. I hated the inevitable parting of ways every second Sunday. I was so glad he’d found
