Prologue

Tatum

"You comin' to Rowdy's tonight?" Kara asks. "I heard they're having a party, presuming the Wolves win anyway."

They better win.

My stomach churns, and another wave of unease ripples through me. I've been trying to convince myself it's because I haven't eaten today. Well, aside from the cupcake I took a bite of earlier, but I wouldn't say it counts.

It was more of a taste test. With it being the biggest order I've had to date, I wanted to make sure they lived up to their expectations.

"I haven't thought about it," I reply.

Lies. Lies. Lies.

The truth is, I have thought about it. I've damn near plotted and agonized over how to avoid that crowd, which means skipping out on parties as much as possible.

Don't get me wrong, I'm sure my brother will be there. It's not like he'd let anything happen. In fact, they'd be signing a death wish if they tried, and that's exactly the point.

Talon will be there, and I don't doubt Wells will be too.

Which makes it the one place in town I don't want to be.

My phone vibrates in my back pocket. Speak of the devil.

Talon: Carvers are in town for the game. Got them tickets for tonight. Section R, first row.

Imagine having three overbearing and protective brothers. That was what it was like having Beckham and Hayes Carver around growing up. Four, if I counted my cousin Owen too.

I haven't seen Hayes since he went away to college at Braysen University. Beckham followed Talon to Rixton before transferring to play with Hayes at Braysen last year.

"Actually, it looks like we have some friends visiting from out of town," I add, thankful for the excuse.

I turn away from Kara to stare out over the crowd, checking to see if I can spot them from where we stand near the concessions.

It's no use, though. The place is packed.

I've started to hate the big crowds. Even the thought has the knot of unease tightening in the pit of my stomach.

"I'm gonna grab a bite to eat before the game starts," I mutter in Kara's ear.

Moving to join the line, I realize too late there's someone behind me when I collide with a hard chest. I flinch, raising my arms protectively.

"Oh shit," a low voice grumbles into my ear. A strong hand grips my elbow, helping to keep me upright.

I'm wearing a long-sleeved purple shirt underneath my Wolves jersey. Even with the added layer between us, the spark of heat can be felt from his touch. I jerk my arm away quickly.

I lift my gaze, eventually meeting his eyes. My mouth falls shut as I take in his sharp jawline and warm chestnut eyes.

A playful grin tugs at his lips, and the slight stubble only adds to his irresistibly good looks.

"My bad. I thought you were in line, but I realize now you weren't."

"No, sorry. I was actually joining the line myself," I nervously rattle off.

When I shift my focus beyond him, my heart lurches at the sight of Wells. His glare burns into me from across the arena. I can't miss the way his hands firmly grip the hips of the girl in front of him.

He's the one person I prayed I wouldn't see tonight.

"Shit, I thought you said he wasn't coming?" I shift toward Kara and mutter low through my teeth.

"Sorry." She shrugs nonchalantly.

"Go on ahead of us." I motion to the stranger, glancing over at him again.

"Nah, it's okay." His fingers curl around my arm, urging me forward in the line, ignoring my comment entirely.

When he releases me, against my better judgment, I flick my gaze over to Wells. Judging by the tick in his jaw and his penetrating glare, there's no doubt in my mind he saw.

"I need to use the restroom before the game starts. Do you mind if I go quickly while you wait?" Kara asks, snapping my attention away from Wells.

"Not at all. Go for it." I nod.

I'd like a moment alone with my thoughts anyway.

The line to the concession is backed up to the top row of the arena seats, so I won't be moving for a bit anyway.

Kara adjusts her purse strap over her shoulder and slips past me into the crowd, making a beeline for the bathroom. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Wells wrapping his arms around Camila's waist again.

Isn't it ironic how it's always the person they assured you not to worry about? Bile rises in my throat, recalling all the times I saw the two of them flirting, and he insisted it was nothing.

His demeanor changed when the rumors started about the two of them together. His temper managed to somehow grow worse.

"Who's that?" the deep voice from behind breaks through my thoughts.

"Huh?" I lift my chin to peer up at him.

He subtly tilts his head to the side, flicking his gaze toward Wells. "The guy who's caught your attention. What's his name?"

"It doesn't matter…"

"I disagree. Every time you give in and look his way, your body stiffens."

I scowl. "No, I don't. Besides, how would you know? We don't even know each other."

He shrugs and turns to face Wells himself. Without a second thought, I snatch him by his forearm and tug him toward me.

"Well, don't look at him," I fire off through gritted teeth.

He chuckles. "You want to tell me why not?"

"It's just—" I press my lips together. "He, well, I don't want him to know we're talking about him, for one."

"All right, fine. Can you at least clue me in on who the guy is we're not talking about?"

I roll my eyes and sigh, spinning around to face the concession stand. We're slowly inching our way closer in line.

"He's my ex. His name is Wells. Wells Perry," I mumble, keeping my voice low. My mouth barely moves, and I'm almost uncertain if I've said them out loud.

"Wait, Wells Perry? As in the defensive end for the Rixton football team?"

I groan. "That's the one."

"I take it the two of you didn't split on good terms, then?"

"What would make you say that?"

"Judgin' by the look on his face. Sweetie, if looks could kill, I'd be a goner."

If it weren't for the context of the sentence, I would've smiled at the mention of him calling me sweetie.

"No, it wasn't on good terms." I scoff. "Honestly, I wish he'd leave me the hell alone. Clearly, he's moved on, so why won't he let me do the same?"

He goes silent, and I half expect our conversation to end there. Neither of us says a word until it's my turn in line, and I order a slice of pizza. It'll be enough to tide me over for a bit.

"Make it two," the stranger calls from behind me, tossing two twenties on the counter. "I'll take a beer while you're at it, too, please."

"What are you doing?" I incline my head to look at him over my shoulder, but he doesn't respond to me.

"Hold this for me, will ya?" he adds, setting his slice of pizza on top of mine. He swipes his beer and lifts it to the guy behind the counter, thanking him.

"C'mon." He tilts his head toward me and wraps his arm around my neck.

"What the hell are you doing?" I sputter under my breath, almost scolding him.

"Will you stop asking so many damn questions? I'm helping you. What does it look like?"

"Helping me?" I balk, but my words cut off when I notice we have an audience, and in the center of it all is Wells.

"I'm starting to question your decisions."

"Oh yeah? Because I'm going along with this?"

His lip curls on the edge, and he chuckles. "I'm trying to figure out what you saw in this guy, is all. I can't put my finger on why, but I don't trust him." He continues to guide me away. "Maybe he needs to see you moving on to get the hint."

"Moving on? With who, you?"

He smirks. When I tilt my head to gaze at him, he doesn't bother to look my way.

"It's Reed, by the way." He corrects me, finally revealing his name.

I've never seen him around here, but he seems familiar with Wells, so I'm going to assume he's with the visiting team. It's hard to tell. He's the only person not wearing Rixton Wolves or Alder Avalanche attire.

I'm rigid against his side, yet he seems as cool as a cucumber with his arm draped over my shoulders like we're a couple without a care in the world.

We saunter toward Wells, Camila, and their posse. It dawns on me that I'm leaving Kara behind, but when I notice Wells glancing in our direction, all the thoughts swirling around evaporate from my mind.

Reed leans in close, his warm breath brushing against my ear. I swear his lips graze my skin, and my stomach flutters. Only this time, it has nothing to do with nerves or anxiety, at least not in a bad way.

"Try to relax, will ya? I'd never do anything to hurt you. Besides, I think it's working."

This time, when he pulls me into him, I welcome his warm embrace.

Wells has his arm draped around Camila still, the same way we are now. She's too focused on her conversation with a couple of girls I recognize to notice his penetrating stare on us.

"What's up, man?" Reed asks, flicking his hand toward Wells.

He returns the greeting with a narrowed gaze, almost as if he's trying to piece together who Reed is.

"Do you two know each other?" I ask, wondering the same thing.

"Kinda. Although he may not recognize me."

It isn't until we pass them that I find myself relaxing. We make the round to the other side of the arena, garnering some attention along the way. Mostly friends of my brother.

Either you love or you hate Talon Pierce. There is no in-between.

I veer us off toward the side near the wall and hand Reed his slice of pizza. He growls like an animal before he takes a bite and wags his brows at me. I quickly fire off a text to Kara, telling her where I am before I eat mine.

"Thanks for stickin' with me back there. I appreciate it."

He nods, taking another bite of his pizza. He finishes before he replies with, "It's all good. You want me to stay with you while you wait for your friend or…?"

I shake my head. He's already done too much, and we barely know each other.

"No, it's all good. You can go, but thanks again."

"How about this?" He motions toward my phone. "I'll give you my number, and if you need rescuing again, let me know."

I study him for a minute, taking a slow bite of my pizza.

Rolling his eyes, he snatches my phone and quickly begins typing his number into my contacts before handing it over to me.

I glance down at the text message he sent to himself, which means he has my number now too. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and I notice the bubble on our message appears before his reply comes through.

Reed: Now you have my number in case you need another stand-in boyfriend.

"Hate to break it to you, but I'm done with relationships and dating in general."

"Damn. He did a number on you, huh? I knew I didn't like him for a reason."

It's my turn to roll my eyes. If he only knew.

If I'm being honest, if it wasn't for my brother, I would've hauled my ass out of this damn town a long time ago. I'm sick of Rixton and the memories that seem to hold me captive.

"Oh my gosh, there you are. I was still looking for you near the concessions until I got your text. We must've just missed you," Kara says from a few feet away.

I glance from Kara over to Reed, who taps his pizza crust against mine in a mock cheers and wags his brows.

"If you change your mind, the offer still stands." He tosses the last bite into his mouth and turns, stalking away.

I'm torn between stopping him, conflicted with wanting him to stay, and heading with Kara to find our seats. It's been a while since I've seen the Carver brothers. Hopefully, they brought their girlfriends with them, too.

"See ya," I mumble, feeling like an idiot when I wave.

Kara flicks her gaze between us, confusion marking her features. To avoid her question, I nod toward the crowd.

"Let's find our seats."

After my break up with Wells, I decided I'm done with the dating thing. I'm convinced every man in Rixton is the same. Instead, I'm going to spend my college years enjoying time with my friends and not wasting them away on a stupid boy.

Especially football players, who do nothing but play games and try to score with any girl who will look their way.

Yeah, count me out.