Page 128 of Scoring Lessons

“Now’s not the time to fuck with me,” I reprimanded, my nostrils flaring.

It was no secret I was livid for what he’d just done, but more than anything, I was worried sick. I’d never seen Wesley lose his cool like that. He wasn’t that kind of player. He wasn’t the aggressive type.

He sighed and showed me his raw and bloody knuckles.

Neither one of us said a word as I cleaned his wounds. Then I wrapped the ice pack in a small towel and placed it on top of his knuckles.

“Care to tell me what the hell that was back there?”

He hadn’t dared to look at me, much less say a word, and honestly, it only made me madder.

I sighed then gripped his jaw and forced him to meet my gaze. “Please tell me you didn’t do that for me.”

He took a hard gulp, his eyes never leaving mine. “I could sit here and lie to you. But we both know I won’t.”

I rose to my feet and started pacing back and forth. “Wesley,” I groaned, frustration lacing my voice. “What were you thinking? You have the contract extension to worry about, you⁠—”

He rose to his full height with a scoff. “Do you think I give a fuck about that right now?”

“You should!” I shouted.

He needed to start worrying about it. I couldn’t bear the idea of Wesley leaving Chicago. The thought alone sent a wave of fear through me, like the ground had already started shifting beneath my feet and I hadn’t found anything to grab onto yet.

“No one is going to talk about you and get away with it in my presence, much less that piece of shit,” he shouted back, his voice raw, frustrated.

I raised my arms in exasperation. “I don’t need you to fight my battles!”

A few silent beats passed before a long sigh escaped his lips. “Baby.”

I craned my neck to meet the depth of his irises when he closed the distance between us. God, I loved it when he called me that. It was so stupid. And it was like he knew the effect it had on me.

“I know you don’t.” His tone grew quieter, and a sense of calm washed over me. The tip of his index finger fixed one of my wild strands of hair. “But I will protect what’s mine—and I won’t be sorry for it, either.”

My heart dropped to my stomach.

“You’re the strongest woman I know.” His index finger ran along the side of my jaw until it met my chin, and he held me steady, not once breaking eye contact. “And God knows you don’t need anyone to protect you. But I choose to. And I will keep choosing to do so as long as you let me.”

What was I supposed to say to that?

My heart was beating too fast. My skin prickled with goosebumps. He made me feel so much with these simple statements. These truths that kept lingering in the air, suspended in time, every time he said them out loud. The truths that were mine to keep because he let me.

“What’s yours, huh?” I said quietly.

Wesley Hayes just called me his, and I think I loved it.

“Is that a problem?” he asked, his tone sincere. His eyes studied me in the only way he knew how—patiently, without judgment.

Instead of giving him an answer, I pushed up on my tiptoes and collided our lips in a kiss. It was unhurried, like we had all the time in the world. Like it was the two of us in this strange but perfect bubble.

I should have been madder. I should have fought harder. But…I didn’t want to. He had defended my honor without caring about the consequences just because I mattered to him.

I’d never been someone’s priority. For most of my relationship with Jack, he made me feel like he was doing me a favor. Like I wasn’t worth the fight. The want.

The love.

“Olivia?” My brother’s voice cut through the air.

My body tensed. I looked over my shoulder and found him with some of the other guys—Donovan, Parker, Morgan—behind him.