17. Brews

brEWS

Hudson

Boone's got the seats down in the back, sprawled out like a starfish, and Riley's curled up in her seat—yes, it's hers—like a kitten, a really hot kitten who wasn't at all bothered that I got a little fucking emotional yesterday.

She's a dream in the sheets, too.

I grabbed a titty in my sleep and was sincerely apologetic. Explained I'd never slept with a girl in my bed, and she rolled over, licking her lips, looking at me like I was a treat, waving all sorts of green flags. Then she grabbed my dick and said, "Be quiet and do me."

I was quiet. Her, not so much, which is also fucking hawwwwwt.

I unhook my phone from the sound system because every time I receive more pictures, it blares off and wakes the two of them up. So, I'm probably breaking the law by wearing an earpiece to listen to the early game between the Bills and the Jets, but since I'm only wearing one, I'm hoping if I get pulled over, the cop will feel sorry for me because I'm a dipshit for thinking that way or he'll be a Knights fan. The New York Knights, not the old Knoxville variety of fucking crazy.

The fact that this is the thought going on in my head, it's pretty fucked up when I get a call from Ava Lane, and on more than one level, I've got her sister-in-law next to me.

I hit accept on my phone. "Ava, what's the good word?"

"The charges against Boone have been dropped."

"That's good, because it was complete shit, anyway."

"You're damn right it was. Fucking assholes," she sputters.

"Give me more good news."

"I've started the ball rolling to get the charges dropped for Ryder Maverick and found out one of the little shitbags has an uncle who is, get this, a retired cop. So, I threatened to go after LVMPD and the DA for their corrupt handling of the Maverick case."

"And that's why you're the real MVP of this team, champ."

She's quiet again.

"All right, give me some more good news."

"I'm afraid I don't have any."

"Then roll out the bad shit. I'm sure I got something coming for falling in love with?—"

"Oh my God!" she squeals, and I regret the whole earpiece decision immediately.

"Yeah, I did." And it feels good to say it out loud.

"Is she with you?"

"She is. We went for a quick visit to Jersey, stumbled into a wedding, and now we're an hour out. We'll be back at Brooks Barn and Brew to watch the Cowboys take down Philly."

I catch Riley stirring out of the corner of my eye, and she smiles as she opens her big brown eyes.

"Morning, Brooksie babe. Did I wake you with all my chatter?"

"Oh my God, that's adorable," Ava says, and I swear she's clapping.

"Morning, Hart." She sits up. "Who's winning the Bills game?"

"Am I on speaker?" Ava asks, unable to contain her excitement, which makes me grin.

"Nah, Boone and Riley were both sleeping, so you're in my ear."

"Put me on. I am totally going to give her hell for not sharing this."

I tap a few buttons and nod to the screen. "It's your favorite sister-in-law."

"I'm a mixture of pissed off at you and bursting at the seams that I didn't know you were going away with #13."

"I feel like I should find it offensive that I've been reduced to a number, but fuck it, I'll be whatever she wants me to be."

"Riley, this is what you deserve—a man, not a little bitch boy."

Riley looks at me. "If I had another sister-in-law right now, Ava would be demoted."

I take her hand and lift it to my mouth, kissing the back of it while chuckling as Ava says, "Hey, I speak the fucking truth."

"And that's why I love you."

"Do you mean that's why …" She stops. "We'll discuss this later. Are you two at this stage in your relationship that you can confide in each other about everything or just the four times a day epic sex?"

"That's never going not stop," I whisper.

"We're sharing everything. Why? What's up?" Riley squeezes my hand.

Ava recaps what she's already told me about the case and then picks up where we left off.

"After I threatened, I was told that if I did not drop this, they would charge Hart and said they had sufficient evidence to make it stick and also said that the NFL would be given this new evidence and open their investigation back up. Hart, you could be benched for a couple of games, and fined, too."

"He did nothing wrong!" Riley snaps

"What the hell's going on?" Boone asks, sitting up and stretching.

Riley scowls at me. "This is your career. They can't do that."

"Let's keep it real. They can do whatever they want, and they're going to. I take a deal, this kid's fucked. He will never get a shot. And straight up, I have all the confidence in this team to do this without me. Ryder Maverick, he doesn't have shit but a public defender who's done a shit job."

"I knew you'd say that," comes from the background. It's Lucas. "I also believe that we can take care of business. That character of yours is solid. Those assholes, they'll hang Ryder and keep doing this to the next kid, and the next. That being said, we've been trying to get information on the assholes who stormed the field after the Knights win against Vegas and, apparently, no arrests were made. Not fucking one. We do have some guys looking into it. We won't relent, but I'm not seeing this as a problem we can solve overnight."

"Obviously, this isn't ideal for the team, and you guys own my ass, so in the end, it's your call. But I'm not gonna ever feel good about rolling over on some kid. My mom's boyfriend is a security specialist; I'll have him look into this, too."

"The more people you have in your corner, the better. We have a few days before we have to respond to them. Is that correct, Ava?"

"We have time, but I cannot wait to walk into in the DA's office with the evidence I have, with the news crew behind me, to confront this."

"I'm down for another trip to Vegas," Riley interjects.

"Hold the fuck on Betty Badass. You have a liquor license. I'm pretty sure that there are some sort of … I don't know rules against committing a felony where you'll lose it."

"Fuck that. Lo can get it in her name," she snaps.

"Riley Mae Brooks, this is your Uncle Lucas. No good will come out of this if you get in trouble, too."

"Love you and mean it, Uncle Lucas, but you don't fuck with what's mine, and in case you haven't heard, Harts ass is mine."

Snickers come through the line and, behind me, fucking Boone is trying to keep his shit together.

"Like it when you're pissed. I'm sorry about this smile on my face right now, but damn, girl."

She rolls her eyes, crosses her arms, and flops back in her seat. "I'm just going to put it out there right now, you can wear the pants when you want, but I'm not into butt stuff."

"It's fucking disturbing watching you drool over my sister and actually having confirmation that the two of you do indeed have something going on."

"Your sister's hot." I chuckle as I lean back in my seat, eyes glued to the screen as Philly takes the field. "And I mean that in the most respectful way."

"He leans forward and rests his elbows on the table, scrubs his hands over his face, and grumbles, "Fuck. I can't even hate on you. Hell, I may even wanna kiss you for getting her to see she deserves better."

"Pretty sure she knew that she's a smart girl. I just think she gave up believing that there were good men still out there who were not related to her." I lean back and link my fingers behind my head. "And I'm a damn good man, Jackson."

"If you don't say so yourself, huh?" He chuckles.

"Inter-fucking-ception!" echoes through the bar, and we glance back and see Lauren jumping up on the bar and repeating, "Inter-fucking-ception!"

"You do know that you just put a target on her ass. All these motherfuckers are gonna think it's all right to date my sister, my cousins. You know how fucked up that is?"

"You could look at it that way, or you could look at it that you now have one more brother to fuck up anyone who doesn't deserve those Jeep chicks."

"I will hold you to it."

"You don't gotta hold me, Jackson, unless you want to." I wink.

He stands up and walks to the bar to grab another drink. I don't blame him. Next thing you know, his sisters will be getting married on a rooftop in Jersey.

Which reminds me , I think as I stand up, walk to the door leading to the deck, and step out to give Jillian a call.

It takes her a few rings to answer it, but she does. It's not a Hey Hudson, how are you doing; it's, "This better be good. You're interrupting the consummation."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Jillian," I grumble. "Was just calling to see how you're doing."

"I'm a little sore?—"

"And goodnight." I hang up the phone.

I shove my hands in my pocket and look up at the sky right before I feel arms wrap around me from behind and titties on my back.

"Hey Brooksie, I got a question for you."

"I came out to ask you one. Me first."

I take one of her hands and bring her around in front of me. "Shoot."

"I'm super fucking proud of you. You're standing up for something you believe in, something I believe in. But doesn't mean it doesn't suck. So, tell me: honestly, how are you doing?"

"It would take a mushroom cloud over my head right now to put me in a bad mood. I'm still high on us."

She smiles. "Yeah, me, too. So, what was your question?"

"What's your favorite constellation?"

"Canis Major."

"Canis Major, huh?"

She leans in and rubs her nose across my chest. "I like big dogs and I cannot lie."

I remember her mom talking about her dog and how upset she was about it.

"Love dogs, too. My grandma had a pup that died right after her. I haven't been able to get one since. Plus, it seems kind of selfish to do that when I'm not home all the time. But I would fucking love one." I tip her chin up so she's looking at me. "If I get benched, you wanna get a dog with me?"

"Are you serious?" she says like she thinks I'm joking but really doesn't want me to be.

"As a fucking heart attack."

"And when you're out of town and I'm here, it can stay here?"

"Which brings on another question: how the fuck am I going to sleep tonight without you?"

"Whose titties will you grab?" she jokes.

"The only titties I want in my hands are these ones." I skate my hand up her side and feel a bra. "Not disappointed you're wearing a bra to work, but I'm disappointed you have one on right now."

"What time do you have to be at the stadium tomorrow?"

"Up at six, there at eight, home by four or five."

"You better get home and get some sleep."

"You're trying to get rid of me?" I squeeze her boob.

"No, but I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow morning. They're gonna do a full exam, and then I think I'm going to get an IUD."

"Why the fuck are you going to get an IUD?"

"Because I'm not gonna take birth control."

"An IUD is birth control. I'm ready. Let me know when you are."

"You do realize that this is not normal behavior for a twenty-three-year-old man, right?"

"I'll be twenty-four on the thirteenth."

"Of this month?"

"No, Brooksie, my birthday is the day before yours."

"I know that." She rolls her eyes. "I totally stalked your Insta, which didn't give much more than your stats."

I pull her closer. "Oh yeah? So, why the hell are you asking me then?"

"I didn't want to sound like a stalker."

"I'm an open book to you; stalk away." I lean down and give her a kiss, and she gives it right back, arching her back, giving me those titties. That's when we hear the fucking bar go crazy.

There's no shame in either one of our games as we fucking haul ass inside and celebrate the fact that the Cowboys kicked some Philly ass and the New York Knights are now number one in the NFC.

Less than two minutes after that, she was pushing me out the door, telling me I needed to get sleep, using my own damn words against me. "Gotta show up to practice so you're game ready. Gotta get in the time."

Yeah, she and I are gonna be epic slash unstoppable.

Lying in bed, wishing she was here, I send her a text.

Me:

Love you, RB

Riley Mae Brooks:

Love you, HH.

Riley Mae Brooks:

Can I swing by at like eight?

Riley Mae Brooks:

That's too late, isn't it?

Riley Mae Brooks:

What time do you usually go to sleep?

I'm smiling like a fucking idiot as I watch her dots jump.

Riley Mae Brooks:

OMG, I am doing you.

Riley Mae Brooks:

Not doing you, but you know what I mean.

Riley Mae Brooks:

Seriously, this is stupid.

Riley Mae Brooks:

Does eight work?

I give it a heart.