"It's important to me." My voice comes out smaller than I intended.
Another sigh, then: "Fine. I see your car. I'll park behind you."
I watch in the rearview mirror as Adam's sleek Audi slides in behind my Escalade. He emerges looking like he stepped out of a magazine—crisp chinos, blue button-down rolled precisely at the elbows, artfully tousled hair. I suddenly feel underdressed in my Fury t-shirt and cargo shorts.
I hop out of my SUV and approach him with a smile. "You made it."
"For you." His lips tight, he taps away at his phone. "But I can't stay long. I have a client crisis brewing."
"You always have a client crisis brewing." The words slip out before I can stop them.
Adam finally looks up, his expression softening slightly. "It's how I can afford this car, babe." He pockets his phone and gestures toward the house. "Let's get this over with."
I reach for his hand as we walk up the driveway, but Adam deftly sidesteps, pretending to check something in his pocket. My hand hangs awkwardly between us for a moment before I shove it into my pocket.
"It's fine," I mutter.He's just nervous. This is a big step.
Coach's backyard is packed with my teammates and their partners. The grill is working overtime, smoke billowing asCoach flips burgers with a spatula in one hand and a tongs-speared hot dog in the other.
My brothers spot me first.
"Aldy!" Tucker calls out, his grin wide and genuine. Gunnar waves from where he's helping set up lawn games. Their initial smiles fade slightly as they notice Adam trailing three steps behind me, already back on his phone.
Cappy, our team captain, approaches with his usual easy warmth. "A-Stag! About time you made it." He turns to Adam, extending a hand. "You must be Adam. Heard a lot about you."
Adam extends his hand with a perfunctory smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Nice to meet you."
An awkward silence follows until Coach Thompson saves us, appearing with a plate of charred meat in one hand and a clean spatula in the other.
"Adam, right? Good to finally meet you," Coach says, balancing the plate to offer his hand. "Alder's one of our best—great to see him bringing someone important to him."
"Thank you for the invitation," Adam says with practiced politeness.
I grin and rest a hand on Adam’s shoulder. "Adam's handling the media strategy for the Pittsburgh Athletic Media merger with East Coast Sports Network," I explain, proud to talk about his work. "It's a huge deal for him—" Adam freezes beside me, his smile vanishing.
Coach Thompson's eyebrows shoot up. "East Coast? My brother-in-law sits on their board," Coach says, interest piqued. "He didn't mention any merger."
"He wouldn't," I continue, despite Adam's increasingly rigid posture. "It's all under wraps until the press conference on Tuesday."
"Alder." Adam's voice is as tight as steel. "A word." Before I can respond, he grips my elbow, steering me toward the side of the house. I catch Gunnar and Tucker exchanging a look,and something twists in my stomach. Once we're out of earshot, Adam turns on me, eyes blazing. "What the hell are you doing? That information is completely confidential!"
I feel my cheeks heat. Pretty sure I just fucked up when I was trying to show off. "I was just making conversation?—"
"You just told the coach of a major sports franchise about a confidential corporate merger! His brother-in-law is on the board! Do you have any idea what you've done?"
The cold realization of my mistake washes over me. "I didn't think?—"
"That's the problem, isn't it? You never think." He yanks his phone from his pocket and glares. "I have to deal with this now. This could tank the entire announcement strategy." I watch as he walks away, phone pressed to his ear, his voice shifting to damage-control mode. I stand there, the weight of my carelessness settling like a stone in my gut.
I wander back to my brothers, who are still talking to Coach. All of them look at me, their expressions uncomfortable. Coach’s eyebrows shoot up. “Where’s your guy?”
I force a smile that feels more like a grimace. "Work call. He’s around somewhere…”
I wince, but Coach sighs. "Well, boys, the water’s cold, and the meat's hot." He turns to me. "Gatorade and seltzers in the coolers. No booze until after we win the Cup."
I catch Gunnar and Tucker exchanging a look, and something twists in my stomach. I hate that my brothers see precisely what they expected. Coach claps my shoulder. "Go grab a drink, son. More food's coming up soon."
I head toward the drink station, trying to shake off the embarrassment. There's a woman standing by the coolers, struggling with the cap of a probiotic seltzer. She's wearing a jean skirt that hugs the ample curve of her gorgeous backside and a flowing top that catches the breeze. Her brown hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, and she's biting her thick lip in concentration.
