I’ll be there
Dylan
We’ll have the team kick George Powellin the shins
I put my phone aside. I don’t feel like texting anymore.
My emotions have been all over the place since Levi’s dad went after Jack and Austin on the field in front of God and everyone.
At first I was in full-on mamma-bear protective rage that he would try to push his son onto the team and then bully Jack into giving him the QB-1 spot after one day of practice.
I was furious that he tried to imply Austin wasn’t good enough to lead the team, when everyone in sports media has been talking about the upcoming season and seeing him play.
Just as fast, I was embarrassed when he implied Jack was advancing my son because of “favors” I might be giving in exchange. I was ready to claw his eyes out. He basically called me a whore, and I wanted Jack to punch him in the face.
It seemed like Jack had the same reaction, but then he only picked up his daughter and walked away, leaving me standing there with Garrett and Zane.
A knot was in my throat when I glanced at the stands, wondering if everyone heard what George said, and even worse, if they were all thinking the same thing.
As if reading my mind, Garrett put his hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Ignore that noise. If they can’t see how talented Austin is on the field, they need glasses.”
Blinking quickly, I smiled up at him, doing my best to play it off. Still, I was humiliated, and I wanted out of the public eye.
I rode back to the house with Austin and whipped up some dirty rice. My starving son wolfed it down, but I wasn’t hungry. I told Austin I had a headache, and he didn’t question it.
He’d been pretty distracted ever since the showdown on the field as well. So I gave him a hug and told him I was going to bed early.
After a quick shower, I curled up under the covers with my new favorite sexy romance. This one’s got a BDSM trope, and it’s hot as fire. Every time the hero saysGood Girl, I shiver.
People don’t understand a librarian like me reading “trashy”romance novels, especially ones with domination in them. They say I’m messed up or I want to have bad relationships, and that’s how I ended up with Rip.
First, rude. Second, romance isnottrash. It’s well-written and for many women it’s healing and empowering. My brand of feminism says women deserve to have whatever type of sex turns them on—in a safe, consensual environment, of course.
Reading dark romance lets us explore sexual fantasies in a way we can control. It says more abouttheirsexual hangups than ours that they can’t understand it.
I must’ve fallen asleep, because when I lift my head off the pillow, it’s dark outside. The house is quiet, and I wonder if Austin remembered to set the alarm. He doesn’t understand why I’m using it, and I still haven’t told him about his dad.
I’d planned to do it after fall camp, but maybe it’s time—if only so he’ll be more careful.
Rubbing a hand over my eyes, I walk to the living room to check the panel on the wall by the front door. The system is unarmed, and a sliver of fear trickles through my chest. My eyes drift up the short hall in the direction of my son’s room.
It’s dark, but I’ll tell him in the morning.
Returning to the keypad, I’m about to enter the code when I glance out the window and nearly scream. A man stands in the shadows watching the house, and my heart flies to my throat.
My hands are shaking, and I’m about to run to my bedroom to call Garrett when the clouds move away from the moon.
The man’s features grow clearer, painted in the silvery light, and with a hiccuped inhale, I know him.Is it the moonlight? Is this a dream?
It’s Jack.
I’d recognize that gorgeous face anywhere.
My feet are bare, and I’m only wearing soft cotton shorts and a long-sleeved, cotton shirt. I don’t care. He draws me to him without saying a word.
I fling the door open and run out to where he stands.
His hands open as I get closer, and he takes a step toward me. “Allie?”
