Chapter One

"Why did I think this was a good idea?"

Sitting alone in the lavish dressing room that captured her reflection from almost every angle, Lucy Dawson felt like she was suffocating. She'd never been prone to theatrics, but right now, she was tempted to crawl out the window and escape before it was too late.

Letting out a shuddery breath, she murmured, "Okay, dramatic much?"

Still, on the other side of the door was a photographer and her team of assistants and her fiancé, Blake. The wedding was three months away, but Blake had insisted on them doing these formal shots of the two of them where he saw her in her dress for the first time. For some reason, he thought getting the "reaction" shot was artsy and they'd be able to look back on it fondly. Fondly. Pfft …It was utterly ridiculous to her, because she believed it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before the wedding.

Staring at herself in one of the many mirrors, she frowned. The gown was not her style and felt a little too princessy for her. She'd wanted something simple and understated, but somehow Blake had convinced her mother that the gown should be big and lavish. Just thinking about the whole dress shopping ordeal made her groan. And because she didn't want to make waves, she'd caved and gone with this monstrosity of a dress. There was a petticoat and hoops and lace and…pretty much everything she despised in a wedding gown.

If she were being completely honest, she was beginning to despise everything about the wedding, too. Nothing was going her way. Everything she picked, Blake vetoed, and if she argued about it, her mother or his would step in and tell her why she was wrong.

It seemed like this was everyone else's wedding and she was just expected to show up, smile, and pretend like it was the happiest day of her life.

Only…she knew it wouldn't be.

It couldn't.

Somehow her life had gotten wildly out of control and Lucy wasn't even sure how it happened. One minute she and Blake were casually dating, and the next, she was on the fast track to a circus.

"This dress could certainly serve as the big top."

Honestly, she wasn't in love with Blake. That was the sad truth. She'd accepted his proposal because…well…it was a way out of her crappy life. Growing up poor, she'd always dreamed of going to college, getting a degree, and moving away so someplace other than her tiny town of South Creek, North Carolina. With a population of under a thousand, it felt like the ultimate dead-end destination. All her life she'd wanted to leave, but…things kept happening that forced her to stay.

Meeting Blake during a random trip to the Outer Banks with friends had seemed like fate was finally shining on her. Was he her type? A little. Was he the man of her dreams? In some ways. Was he her soulmate? Absolutely not. But only because she didn't believe in that sort of thing. He'd pursued her and dazzled her with a life she never thought she'd have, and she got caught up in the fantasy of it all. So if he wanted the big, over the top wedding, she'd do it.

No matter how much the damn dress irritated her and made her look like one of those Barbie doll cakes.

Picking up her phone, she glanced at the time and wondered why no one had come to get her. She was supposed to wait here until they were set up so the photographer—a prissy little thing who called herself Paris, no last name, just Paris—could catch Blake's reaction. But she'd been sitting back here for almost thirty minutes and was ready to be done. She'd say they forgot about her, but considering this whole photoshoot was about her in this dress, that wasn't possible.

Lifting the massive skirt, Lucy carefully made her way to the door and opened it, peeking out. The entire studio was quiet except for some music playing softly.

"O-kay…"

Stepping out into the hallway, she made her way toward the studio and didn't see any of the assistants. All the lights were set up, but it was like they all went to lunch and no one bothered to tell her or ask if she wanted anything.

Which she totally did because she had been starving herself to get into this dress and, more than anything, she'd kill for a cheeseburger right now.

It was awkward maneuvering around without knocking anything over, but in the distance she heard Paris laughing in her office and made a beeline over to it. The door was closed and just as she raised her hand to knock, she heard another voice.

And then a moan.

Lucy froze for a moment because it sounded like Paris was going at it pretty hot and heavy with someone and it would be incredibly embarrassing to interrupt. Just when she was about to quietly turn and walk away, however, she heard…

"Oh, Blake! Yes! Right there!" Followed by more moaning.

She stared at the door for a solid minute before it finally hit her what was happening. And another solid minute before she forced herself to move.

Then, with a calmness she shouldn't have felt, Lucy made her way back to the dressing room where she stripped out of the dress and left it in a giant heap on the floor. For all its bulkiness, it had a zipper, and she could dress and undress without any help. Once she was back in her favorite jeans and pulled her sweatshirt on over her head—everyone had been appalled by her casual attire when she arrived—she slid on her Sketchers and smiled at her reflection.

"This is me," she said confidently before mussing up her hair a bit. Grabbing her purse and phone, she strode from the room, eager to get to her car and leave. Unfortunately, when she turned the corner and went to make her way across the studio, Paris opened her door with a giggle as she straightened her skirt, followed by Blake.

What she wanted to do was pick up one of those expensive lights and throw it at the two of them, but she decided to take the high road.

Clearing her throat loudly, she smiled serenely, enjoying the deer in the headlights look they gave her. "I think in light of current events, we should cancel today's shoot," she said before lifting her phone and aiming it at them. A few taps had the camera app open and she snapped a picture. With a pointed look at Blake, she added, "Now we've captured your reaction to getting caught with your pants down. Or rather…just your fly."

"Lucy, I can explain…" he said, stumbling after her as he zipped his pants.

"Save it," she said, already in motion toward the exit.

Reaching out, Blake tried to grab her arm and she swung back at him, effectively catching him off guard. She'd grown up with brothers and knew how to defend herself in every possible situation. If she wanted to, she could knock his teeth out, break his nose, or any number of things to cause serious bodily harm. But when she looked at him, she realized she didn't want to.

"Don't touch me," she warned. "Don't ever touch me again."

"I know this looks bad, but…"

She held up a hand to stop him. "You do not want to talk to me right now. I'm going to leave, and you're going to let me."

He repeated her name, but she could tell he was more annoyed than apologetic.

The prick.

"You're not going to call me or show up at my home or business. And…I can't emphasize this too strongly, you will not call my mother or any other member of my family. No one knows about this until I say so. Got it?"

Now he was definitely annoyed.

"Be reasonable. We need to talk about this. We're supposed to have dinner with my parents tonight. We'll need to talk before that."

And for some reason, that made her laugh.

Hard.

"I'm not going to dinner with you, Blake. Not tonight, and not ever again."

"What the hell am I supposed to tell them? They're expecting us both! We're meeting with the florist!"

"Why don't you take Paris with you? After all, it seems like she was filling in just fine for me a few minutes ago." And while his jaw was still on the floor, she left. The slam of the massive studio door sounded extremely satisfying, and as she reached into her purse and pulled out her sunglasses, she casually made her way to her car.

It took all of five minutes of driving for her to wonder what was wrong with her.

Like…seriously, what was wrong with her?

Shouldn't I be more upset? Crying? Ready to turn around and throw a hissy fit?

While she wasn't head over heels in love with Blake, she'd cared enough about him to want to marry him. Shouldn't she be feeling…something right now? Even more rage would be appropriate, but the only thing she was genuinely feeling was hunger.

"Now I can eat a cheeseburger without worrying about that stupid dress or pictures," she said with a smile, pulling into the first parking lot she came to so she could text her BFF Gemma.

Lucy: Hey! Meet me at the pub ASAP!

It was a Saturday afternoon and Lucy knew for a fact that Gemma would be home. She just hoped she had her phone nearby.

Gemma: Done with the photoshoot already? Will I get to see pictures?

Grinning, Lucy nodded.

Lucy: Oh, you'll definitely get to see one.

Gemma: Only one? Geez, is Blake prohibiting you from showing them? Lol!

Gemma: Sorry, just kidding.

Lucy: Can you meet me at the pub? Please?

Lucy: It will take me 30 minutes to get there from the studio.

Gemma: Already getting my shoes on.

Lucy: And I'm gonna need a beer.

Gemma: Seriously? The shoot was that bad?

Lucy: I promise to tell you everything when I get there.

Gemma: And I'm texting Mike that he's on his own for dinner

Gemma: You know, just in case.

Lucy: Thanks. I appreciate you!

Gemma: Okay! See you there!

Tossing her phone back into her purse, Lucy pulled back onto the road and made the drive back to her hometown. When she pulled into the parking lot of the local pub, The Creek, and spotted Gemma's car, she almost couldn't wait to get inside and see her.

Luckily her friend had already gotten them a booth and was waiting there with menus and drinks.

"You're kind of freaking me out," Gemma said as Lucy slid into her side of the booth. "Did the photoshoot go okay? You haven't allowed yourself to eat at the pub in months."

Smiling serenely, Lucy took her phone back out, opened to the picture she'd taken, and slid it across the table.

"Are you freaking kidding me? Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?" Gemma hissed. "Seriously?"

Nodding, she took a sip of her water before pushing it aside and grabbing the bottle of beer Gemma had ordered for her. "Yup. While I was sitting by myself in that stupid dressing room in that stupid dress, the two of them were going at it in her office! How freaking gross is that?"

"Oh, gross is too nice of a word! What a douche! I mean…how? Why? He seriously couldn't keep it in his pants until you weren't there?"

Lucy arched a dark brow at her.

"I mean, um…" Gemma slid the phone back over to her. "I mean, he shouldn't have been doing it at all. Ever. You were the best thing to happen to that uptight asshole!"

Lucy could debate that, but not right now.

"Are you okay?" her friend asked, reaching over, squeezing her hand. "What do you need? Should we send someone over to kick his ass? Or do we need to go and break that blonde twig with a camera in two?" She grinned. "You know I'm a black belt in Tae Kwon Do. I could genuinely mess her up."

"And as much as I would love to see that—just because she was such a prissy and snooty bitch to me—it's not worth it." She shrugged. "They're welcome to each other."

Leaning back in her seat, Gemma studied her. Hard. They'd known each other since kindergarten and there wasn't anything her bestie didn't know about her. "I get that this wasn't like…you know…a fairytale romance for you. Blake certainly wasn't the kind of guy you'd ever gravitated toward before, but I thought you were happy with him." Pausing, she shrugged. "I know you cared about him, otherwise you never would have accepted his proposal. But…"

Her words were cut off by the sound of cheering. Half the pub's customers were watching the football game on the big TV in the corner. She glared at the crowd before responding.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm pissed, but I'm not devastated. More than anything, I dread having to tell my mother because she has been way more excited about this wedding than I was."

"She was more excited about it than anyone," Gemma murmured. "And I'm sorry, but it was really hard not to say something to her. Like…I saw how much she was pressuring you, but I didn't feel like it was my place to tell her to back off."

"Yeah, I don't know how she's going to handle it. No doubt she'll take Blake's side no matter what, and…"

More cheering.

"Go Wylder!" someone called out. "Let's hear it for the hometown hero!"

Lucy's hands clenched into fists as she tried to keep her focus on her conversation.

"Ew…your face got all scrunchy," Gemma said with amusement. "You can't possibly still be holding a grudge against him. It was ages ago and everyone moved on. Your brother's still friends with him, so…"

"My brother's an idiot," she mumbled. "And I'll hold a grudge forever where Jax Wylder is concerned. He ruined our lives!"

"Woo! That's the way it's done, Wylder! Yes!" another person cheered.

"Ugh…"

"Luce, come on. I think you have other things to focus on that are more important than…you know…that." She nodded toward the TV. "Besides, it's not like you'll ever have to see him again."

Except now the jerk's face was filling the screen as some sideline reporter praised him for whatever play he just made. He was smiling and it was crazy how she felt more rage towards him than Blake.

Goes to show where my priorities are…

Gemma snapped her fingers in front of Lucy's face, breaking her out of her reverie. "So what happens now? Where did you leave things with Blake?"

"I told him not to call me, my mother, or anyone. That no one was supposed to know what happened until I say so." Then she sighed. "It sounded pretty badass at the time, but now…" And for the first time, tears stung her eyes.

"Oh, Lulu, come on. Don't cry. We're gonna get through this. I swear."

And the thing was, Lucy knew she would. If anyone other than Gemma was sitting with her, she wouldn't admit this, but her best friend was her vault. "You know the worst part about this?"

"I would imagine hearing them doing it."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "No. I mean…that wasn't great, but that's not the worst of it." Pausing, she swiped at a wayward tear. "The worst is that I'm going to have to tell everyone what happened. Blake will move on and have a fabulous life, and I'll have people looking at me with pity while I stay stuck here with nothing."

"Okay, I'm going to allow you to be dramatic because this all just happened, but you have to stop putting your life down. You are an awesome pediatric physical therapist, Lucy. Your patients adore you and no one's keeping you here. If you wanted to move someplace else—someplace that seems fantastic in your mind—what's stopping you?"

The list was endless.

"You and Blake were going to move to Raleigh or Chapel Hill or Charlotte," Gemma reminded her. "Those were the top three, weren't they?"

Sighing, she nodded. "I kept putting off agreeing to any of them because…"

"Because as much as you say you want to leave this small town, it's still scary." The sympathetic smile didn't comfort her. "And that brings me back to my original question: what happens now? Do you need me to go home with you to face your mother?"

"That certainly wouldn't hurt, but…" Raising her hand, she waved their waitress over. "But first, I'm having a bacon cheeseburger and fries."

The game was over and Jax was exhausted, but the coach wanted to go over the game they'd just won. You'd think he'd let the team celebrate and instead go over all the plays at the next practice, but no. Aaron Floyd was a stickler about going over things while they were fresh in everyone's minds.

No matter how tired they all were.

It was one of the reasons the Wichita Warriors were on track for the Super Bowl again.

"Okay, listen up!" the coach called out from the podium of the Warriors Auditorium. There was a massive screen behind him showing the video of the game. "Let's look at this play right here. This was a crucial moment in the game. We had only two minutes left on the clock and the score tied." He pointed to the screen. "Our offense lines up in a shotgun formation, and Wylder standing five yards behind the line of scrimmage and Mason running positioned to his right."

Assistant coach Mike Ferraro stepped up to the opposite side of the screen. "Y'all were lined up just as we practiced, with Jones and Scotty split out wide on both sides of the field, and Ericson and Carter lined up on the left side of the offensive line."

Jax fought the urge to sigh loudly. They could all see who was where and what they were doing. This narration was completely unnecessary, in his opinion, and after glancing around, it didn't seem like anyone was particularly invested in listening either.

"Now," coach Floyd said loudly. "As Wylder called out the signals, the defense adjusts, showing a blitz formation, indicating they might send extra pressure to disrupt the play. The offense, recognizing this, adjusts their protection scheme, with the offensive line communicating and making sure they pick up any potential rushers."

There were some murmurs from pretty much everyone, but honestly, right now, all he was thinking about was going home, soaking in his hot tub, and getting some solid sleep. His whole body hurt and as much as he hated to admit it, his recovery time after a game was taking longer than it used to, and he wasn't sure if he was even going to come back next season.

Not that he was ready to share that with anyone yet.

Well, he'd mentioned it to his brothers, but no one here in the Warriors world.

"At the snap," the coach went on, "Wylder takes the ball from the center and drops back quickly, scanning the field for an open receiver." He paused the screen. "Where the hell were you guys? No one was ready!"

Rolling his eyes, Jax was ready to point out that they were ready—and had totally been there when he needed them—but kept that to himself.

"You got your shit together, but not as fast as you were supposed to! The defense sent a blitz, but the offensive line held their ground, giving Wylder enough time to make his read. The wide receivers execute their routes with precision." Another pause. "The opposition was sloppy and it was like they sent in their benchwarmers today, but that doesn't mean you all shouldn't be playing at your absolute best!"

More murmurs from the team as the coach went over every step, every move everyone made during the play. It was flawless as far as Jax was concerned. The play had been executed exactly as he intended and they'd scored. Nitpicking on successful plays seems counterproductive, but what did he know? He wasn't a coach. Nor was he ever going to be. Not on this level, at least. That wasn't part of his game plan.

But what exactly is my game plan?

Yeah, he hadn't worked that out yet. But he needed to. Sooner rather than later because…well…he just should.

"And look at this," Coach Ferraro added several plays later. "With pressure closing in, Wylder spotted his target—a wide receiver streaking down the right sideline, having beaten his defender with a quick move off the line of scrimmage. Wylder released a spiral, perfectly leading the receiver toward the end zone!"

Then, much to Jax's embarrassment, he applauded and encouraged the team to do the same.

Shit.

Smiling briefly, Jax nodded toward the screen and hoped they could move on to focus on someone else. He loved the praise, but not when it was in the confines of a locker room meeting like this. There were several glares from jealous teammates, and he noted a few smirks. None of it was new, but he hated crap like this. They were a team. They worked together as a team. It wasn't just him; it was the way he played with the guys around him.

"Then…Jones, tracking the ball over his shoulder, extends his arms and makes a spectacular diving catch, securing the ball just as he crosses the goal line! Well done!" The screen cut to the fans as the crowd erupted into cheers as the offense took the lead with only seconds remaining in the game.

They'd won and it had been great and everyone should have been pleased, but it was almost like the coaches didn't want to give them too much praise for fear they'd get complacent. Still, by the end of the meeting, everyone was smiling and it was finally time to go. As Jax stood, he groaned quietly. Overall, he felt stiffer than he thought it would be and found himself limping a bit.

"Wylder?" Coach Floyd called out. "You okay?"

Nodding, he grinned. "Nothing a good soak won't cure. Have a good night, Coach. See you Monday."

Walking out of the auditorium, he got in step with two of his teammates and closest friends, Travis Reid and Declan James. They made casual conversation as they made their way to their cars.

"Coach needs to do these replays the next day or the day after," Travis said when they were away from the rest of the team and out in the parking lot. "I get that he thinks it's helpful doing this while it's fresh on our minds, but none of us were really concentrating on what he was saying. I'm freaking starving. I've been dreaming about a steak since we walked off the field."

They all nodded in agreement.

"I definitely needed more time to ice my knee, but I wanted to do it at home while no one was shouting at me about being a tenth of a second late with turning my head," Declan murmured. "Not to sound like a damn cliché, but…I'm getting too old for this shit."

"I was thinking about how I couldn't wait to get home and soak in the hot tub," Jax admitted.

Travis laughed. "Man, what's happened to us? We used to finish a game, shower, and run to the nearest pub to pick up women! Now listen to us—steaks, ice, and hot tubs. Alone." He snorted with disgust as they approached his custom Mustang. "You know there are a ton of guys heading over to Brunos. Why go home like a bunch of old men?" Then he shook his head. "I don't know about you, but I refuse to give in. You guys go home and get some rest," he teased. "Personally, I'm going to see how many lovely ladies are interested in joining me in my hot tub." Tossing his duffle bag over his shoulder, he grinned. "After I enjoy a steak. Have a good night."

Jax and Declan kept walking to the far corner of the lot and it wasn't until they were standing next to Declan's SUV that they spoke.

"I don't care what he thinks," Declan stated. "A steak, a beer, and just a little peace and quiet. That's all I want tonight." Then he paused. "We did used to have fun though, didn't we? Like…the adrenaline from a game was still pumping and we'd hit up one of the pubs or clubs and never go home alone."

"Yeah," Jax said wearily. "And it does still sound like fun, but…I don't know…lately it also sounds…"

"Exhausting," Declan finished for him. "And maybe I sound lame, but…I'm out of here. Why don't you stop by tomorrow and we can hang out? My media room is finally finished and it's awesome for gaming."

That made Jax laugh softly. "PS5 or Xbox?"

Declan grinned. "Both. You bring the beer; I'll grill the burgers."

"Deal." He made it all of five steps before he turned around. "We can't be those guys, Dec! We can't! We can relax tomorrow! I think a night out celebrating our win—like we used to—could be a great way to end the day!"

His buddy didn't look so sure, but he did eventually agree. "We're not doing this because Travis shamed us," he said firmly. "We're going out because we want to!"

"Absolutely!" Jax said, suddenly feeling excited about all the possibilities the night could bring. "I'll meet you over at Bruno's!" Jogging over to his truck, he tossed his duffle in before getting himself situated and following Declan out of the parking lot. It wasn't the night he originally thought he wanted, but he knew the importance of hanging out and celebrating with the team. Hell, it's how he, Travis, and Declan became such good friends, so…

The drive was short, and as soon as they walked through the doors of the upscale bar and restaurant and heard everyone cheer, he knew this was the right decision. He'd deal with the body aches and pains tomorrow. For tonight, he was more than happy to cut loose and have a good time. They deserved to feel good about today's win, and besides, it wasn't like anything too crazy was going to happen. It never did.

Only…

When Jax opened his eyes the next morning, it took a while to piece together why he was sleeping on his living room floor.

Slowly, he sat up and blinked at how bright the room was. His living room had a ton of natural light and right now it felt like he was staring at the surface of the sun. Scratching his head, he slowly got to his feet. Nothing seemed out of place—other than where he slept—and it bothered him that he didn't remember driving home.

Stumbling over to the door to the garage, he yanked it open. His jaw hit the floor when he found it empty.

"What the hell…?" Slamming the door, he stormed around until he found his phone, hoping there was some sort of clue as to what happened last night. It took thirty minutes to find it—in the refrigerator—and as soon as he tapped the screen, he saw there were over twenty unread messages. "That can't be good."

Before he read anything, however, he needed to deal with the pounding headache he was currently sporting, along with all the body aches. After washing down a dose of ibuprofen with a bottle of water, he braced himself for whatever clues his phone held. Raking a hand through his hair, he let out a long breath and carefully sat down on the sofa and began to read. The first was from Declan.

Declan: Dude, where'd you go? You said you'd be right back.

"Where did I go?" he murmured.

Declan: Did you seriously leave with that redhead? You know she's crazy, right?

Redhead?

Declan: Would you just answer me?

Declan: Fine. Whatever. I'm not bailing your ass out.

And that was the last from Declan. Next were a bunch from Travis.

Travis: We're moving the party to my place!

Travis: Can't believe Declan bailed already

Travis: I'm telling the guard at the gate that you're on the list, but lose the redhead.

Travis: That chick is crazy. I don't want her knowing where I live!

"Again with the redhead? Who the hell is she?"

After that, there was a series of texts from a number he didn't recognize, but when he clicked on it, things began to fall into place.

Photos.

Tons of them.

Of him and a beautiful woman with red hair while they were at Brunos.

Then…

Unknown: Hey! It's Tiffany!

Unknown: Now we have each other's numbers!

Unknown: I love that I can call you now all the time!

Unknown: You smell so good!

Then there were more pictures, and in each of them, Jax could see how he was relaxing more and more and had more than a bit of a buzz on.

Shit.

Unknown: OMG! Did Travis just invite us back to his place?

Unknown: Don't leave without me! I need to tell the girls where we're going!

Groaning, Jax prayed that didn't mean he brought a bunch of random—and seemingly not invited—women to Travis' place.

The pictures that followed showed he had indeed brought the uninvited women.

Glancing around, he had to wonder how he was here alone. With the way Tiffany was incessantly texting him and taking pictures, he would have expected her to be here.

The last picture was of her behind the wheel of his truck giving him the finger.

Unknown: Screw you Jax Wylder! I saw you kissing that girl!

Unknown: Good luck finding your truck!

Just as he swiped the screen, the phone rang and it was Travis.

"Trav, thank God," he said, flopping back against the sofa cushions. "What the hell happened last night? I don't even remember getting home." Raking his hand through his hair again, he added, "Is my truck at your place?"

"Do you seriously not remember what happened here last night?" his friend asked with amusement.

"Um…"

"I warned you not to bring the crazy here, but you didn't listen."

"Trav…come on. I woke up on the living room floor, my head is ready to split in two, and I have no idea where my truck is." Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a long breath. "I'd yell if it wouldn't hurt so much."

"Damn. And I was all set to drag this out a big, but…fine. I had the redhead and her friends thrown out. They were taking pictures and if the coaches see them, we're all screwed. After that, you celebrated by opening some very expensive tequila and doing shots before stripping down to your briefs and diving into my pool. Then you did several more shots and took a frozen pizza from my freezer and ate it."

"So? I ate a pizza. That doesn't sound bad."

"It was still frozen, Jax," he said with a snort of laughter. "We all knew you couldn't drive yourself home, so Davis took you. It just made sense since he lives in your neighborhood and all he had to drink all night was water."

"So my truck's still there," he reasoned.

"Nope. I've already been out this morning and the only car in the driveway was mine. Where'd you park when you got here?"

That's when he remembered the last picture. Muttering a curse, he said, "I have to call the police. That crazy bitch stole my truck."

"Jax, you can't be sure?—"

"Her last text to me was a picture from the front seat of my truck and she said good luck finding your truck. Shit! If this gets out, I am so screwed!"

Travis' response was a lot of cursing and way more vulgar. "Dammit, Jax! I told you not to bring her! If any of those pictures get out, we're all screwed! What the hell were you thinking?"

"I…I honestly don't know! But I need to call the cops and find my truck!"

"Can't you just call her and ask where it is? If she texted you, you have proof that she took it and you clearly have her number! Why drag the cops into it?"

"Okay, okay, that makes sense. I'll just…"

His phone vibrated with an incoming text.

And another.

And another.

"Hang on." Looking at the screen, he saw the texts were from Declan.

Declan: Are you watching the TV?

Declan: Turn on Channel 3

Declan: NOW!

Jax reached for the remote and turned the TV on and then to Channel 3. The morning news was on and…

"What the…?"

A reporter was standing next to what was left of his truck. The windows were smashed out, the tires were flat, it was scratched and dented from front to back.

And being pulled out of a lake.

"Police are pulling Warriors quarterback Jax Wylder's truck out of Lake Afton. Witnesses say they spotted an unidentified group of women pushing it into the lake," the reporter was saying. "When questioned, one woman told the officers that they had partied with the Warriors last night after their win against the Vikings and offered photos and video from the private party at Travis Reid's home. We were able to find some of the videos online and, as you can see, it looked like the team was partying pretty heavily."

"Holy shit…"

Apparently Travis was watching the same report because he was cursing up a blue streak.

Yeah, they were definitely screwed.