Page 120 of Game Misconduct

“There, there.” Gonzo pats the top of his head in mocking consolation. “Most brothers are shitheads.”

“Are you including yourself in that?” Bex teases.

“Oh, yeah. For sure.” He looks so proud of himself, too.

She kisses my cheek. “Stay and hang out with your teammates. I’m going to head up to bed, maybe read a little myself.”

“You sure?” We haven’t been alone together in what feels like forever, nearly fifteen hours.

“I’m sure.” She squeezes my arm. “Just don’t keep me waiting too long.”

Henry sighs. “I wish Auds could travel with the team.”

“Same, but with Riley,” Gonzo adds.

I don’t rub their faces in it… but my satisfied smirk is probably enough of a taunt, because he flips me the middle finger.

As she walks off, I can’t keep my eyes off her. My stare falls to her ass, clad in tight-fitting denim, and a groan falls from my lips.

“Oh, fuck off,” MacGregor snaps. “If you want to go after her, do it.”

“No. She needs time alone.” I shake my head, as if to clear my thoughts. “Book club. Woo-hoo. What are we talking about?”

Henry stares at me for a second, before he too shakes his head. “It’s MacGregor’s turn to pick the next book, and he chose a fucking baseball memoir. Baseball.” He sounds personally offended by the concept.

“I like baseball,” the captain says, his ruddy cheeks pinkening further.

“You can’t score on defense. What’s the point?” Henry counters.

I have to admit, I agree with him. At least in football, the defense can get a pick six. In basketball, a defender can steal the ball and run it to the opposite side of the court.

“Why do I even hang out with you?” MacGregor throws his hands up.

“Because you looooove us,” Logan sings.

“I don’t love you,” his best friend and soon-to-be brother-in-law counters.

“Because you’re our captain, and it looks bad if you don’t hang out with us.” Gonzo laughs, a sharp bark. “Would you rather hang out with Sinclair and Jenkins, picking up barely legal girls in bars?”

“They’re barely legal themselves.” MacGregor shakes his head. “I don’t miss my early twenties, that’s for certain.”

“You never picked up girls back then, either,” Logan says.

“Fuck off.” The captain blushes more.

“I’m just saying, if you need a wingman…” He looks around the table. “Well, fuck. None of us are single.”

“We can still help him out,” I offer. “Bex knows I’d never disrespect her. If it means giving MacGregor a leg up with the lucky lady of the night…”

“That makes it sound like he’s looking for a prostitute.” Henry grins. “I mean, I’m not judging. But the press might.”

“I’m not looking for anyone,” MacGregor shouts, drawing some attention from a nearby table. His shoulders bunch up around his ears, and he grimaces. “I’m not interested. Period.”

“You ace?” Gonzo asks, his voice lacking judgment.

Asexual. No interest in a sexual relationship. Whittaker, my teammate in New Orleans, identifies as ace. When we went out to bars, he wasn’t interested in taking a woman—or man—home. We usually hung out together, since I was still hung up on Bex.

Hmm. Maybe I should text him again. I haven’t heard from him since our brief conversation after my injury. It reminded me of the good times, not only the bad.