Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Chapter Seven
Walking into the friends and family waiting area after a game was always a mindfuck.
Burgess stopped talking to Sig midsentence and beelined for Tallulah and Lissa, drawing them both into a hug. Some of the younger players broke off, heading for a group of their friends. Or their parents. But mostly, his teammates reunited with their wives. Babies or toddlers in miniature jerseys. Everyone separating into family units, murmuring to one another and making plans. Saying things like, I can’t wait to get into my pajamas.
Sig had Chloe.
She was always waiting for him after home games, standing off to the side in her pink jersey, purse tucked beneath her arm like a proper society girl, watching his teammates reunite with their loved ones. Struggling to smile, the same way he did. Because their relationship wasn’t an easy one to define. Nothing about it was easy.
Was she a friend? Yes.
Was she only a friend. Nope.
Was she family? Sort of. Not yet, but . . . verging.
Sig stood in silence at the set of doors leading from the tunnel to the waiting area, composing himself. It was always necessary for him to do this. To take a moment and remember why he couldn’t simply walk up to Chloe and kiss the face off her, the way a lot of his teammates were doing with their wives. In a parallel universe, where their parents weren’t engaged, he was carrying Chloe out to his truck right now, cursing the fifteen-minute ride to their house, because he couldn’t wait to be inside of her. His girl. His everything.
They weren’t in a parallel universe, however. This was real life—and there was only one of those. And so, Sig climbed the same mental mountain he climbed after every game. He scaled the sides of it until he reached the plateau, also known as his personal purgatory. The place where he couldn’t have Chloe, but he couldn’t for the life of him stay away from her, either. Not for a single day.
Which had made the last four days miserable while she’d been in Paris with her mother. The very sight of her right now was like walking again after ninety-six hours of being paralyzed.
What was the correct way to greet a woman you loved with every fiber of your fucking soul, but couldn’t have?
It was getting harder and harder to figure that out.
Chloe was beginning to look uncomfortable by herself in the coupled-up family area, which propelled Sig into motion. He hefted his gear bag more securely onto his shoulder and wove through a few groups to reach Chloe, who softened at the sight of him. Just kind of exhaled with her entire body, wringing her hands briefly before giving him a quick hug. Way too quick.
They didn’t hug like that when they were alone.
People were watching, though. Wondering about their dynamic. Why Chloe came to every game like a devoted girlfriend, when in fact, she was his future stepsister. Yeah, they wondered about his relationship with Chloe for a damn good reason.
He wondered about it, too. Day and night.
Mainly about how much longer he could embody this obsession with Chloe without having a nervous breakdown. Niko, the private investigator, was still in the process of verifying the preliminary facts and the case, not to mention sifting through Harvey’s plethora of past relationships, which was taking time. A lot more time than Sig and Chloe had.
“Hey,” he said, letting her go from their brief embrace. Feeling eyes on his back. “Thanks for coming.”
She gave him a prim look. “I don’t think the refs were very glad to see me.”
He chuckled, remembering her indignant pout on the other side of the glass.
Indignant and beautiful. God, so fucking beautiful.
“Nope,” Sig responded. “Pretty sure every ref in the league has your face pinned to a dartboard in their kitchen.”
Humor was slowly beginning to replace the tension that was always between them at first. The moments that held the empty space where a kiss would be, if they were free to express themselves honestly. “With their poor eyesight? I’m not worried about them hitting a bull’s-eye.” She scrutinized the lower half of his face, her gaze snagging on the bandaged cut on his nose. “Is it bad?”
“Nah. I’ve cut myself worse shaving.”
With her attention fastened on his jaw, she hummed quietly.
Sig moved a little closer. As much as he dared in this setting. “What?”
“Nothing,” Chloe murmured. “I’ve just never seen you shave before.”
He swore his heart was beating in his stomach. Every time. She did this to him within seconds every time. “Would you want to watch me shave, Chlo?” he asked, after a brief check over his shoulder. To make sure no one was within earshot.
Slowly, her eyes climbed up to meet his. “Yes.”
It took an effort to keep his breathing even. Was this a crazy conversation to be having in the friends and family area after a game? Absolutely, yes. Was it odd for him and this woman? No. Not at all. There was nothing typical about her. Or them. There might be dozens of people scattered throughout the room, but when they were standing this close and no one else could hear them, anything went with Chloe. And he lived and breathed to find out what she would say and do next.