The Sharks tight end blocked then went into a run. Anderson was there, he jumped up, caught the ball, and made a run toward our territory. Twenty, thirty, forty yards.
Touchdown.
I didn’t cheer.
I hated him.
He jogged off the field like a freaking peacock, then stopped when he got next to Miller and said something that was probably offensive.
Miller shook it off and looked away.
But then Jax shoved Anderson in the back.
Oh no.
No, Jax, back off. Back off!
“Aw hell,” Dad swore. “Your mama’s not gonna be happy about that.”
The cameras caught everything. Miller grabbed Jax to keep him from hitting Anderson, and Jax turned on him. Sanchez moved between all of them and ended up receiving the sucker punch from Anderson.
Miller went to help Sanchez, when Jax shoved past them and landed three huge blows to Anderson’s face.
The coach pulled him away.
I covered my mouth with my hands. Jax, what are you doing?
Three yellow flags were thrown.
And within seconds, Jax and Anderson were thrown out of the game.
Dad flipped off the TV.
We sat in silence.
Finally, he got up and stretched. “You want a cookie?”
“A cookie,” I said flatly. “Jax just got kicked out of the game, and you ask if I want a cookie.”
Dad offered a shrug. “They’re still warm.”
“Dad!” I threw my hands in the air. “Look, I know stress is bad because of the cancer, but you can’t just ignore the fact that Jax, Mr. American Football, just got in a fistfight!”
“Sure can.” He grinned. “It’s about time that boy dealt with all of this.”
“But—”
“Anger will always win out, Kinsey. Can’t hide your feelings forever.” Dad’s voice lowered. “And that boy has been keeping in so much anger, for so long, that it’s no shock at all he’s lashing out. He’s angry at you, angry at me.”
“Why would he be angry at you?”
“Oh, honey.” Dad stepped toward me then lowered his body to my level. “Because he can’t be angry at the cancer, he needs something tangible to be angry at, something in front of him, so he’s angry at me, he’s angry at you, but mostly he’s angry at himself. That boy always did have a hero complex. He was lucky, grew up being able to save everyone from everything or at least he thought he did. And now . . . now his world is crumbling. All he’s got left is football, the very last thing to be angry at—and look, he’s lashing out at that too. Now, do you want a cookie?”
“But, what are you going to do about this?”
Dad looked from me to the dark TV. “Absolutely nothing.”
“But—”
“Kins, the cookies are cold by now. I hope you’re happy.” He walked off, leaving me alone in the living room, wondering if my brother was done saving everyone—was he done saving himself?
Chapter Thirty-Two
JAX
I let the hot water pelt my back like tiny little needles. It didn’t make the pain go away.
Nothing did anymore.
I’d failed my dad.
I’d failed Kinsey.
I’d failed my team.
Fail, fail, fail, fail.
“We need to talk.” Miller.
I wasn’t in the mood for him.
We lost the game.
And it was my fault.
All of it.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at my phone for fear that Harley straight-up dumped my sorry ass for being such an embarrassment, or worse, that my father would send me a text that was the opposite of proud.
And Kins.
My heart clenched.
“Yeah, okay.” I grabbed a towel, wrapped it around my waist, and followed him into the locker room.
Sanchez still had his gear on, so did Miller.
The rest of the team was gone.
The hell?
“This . . .” Miller held his hands wide. “Is an intervention.”
“We were going to make signs.” Sanchez grinned. “But I couldn’t find any markers, and I knew you wouldn’t take us seriously if I used the pink crayon from one of Coach’s kids.”
“And you think I’m taking you seriously now?”
“We both went to Coach, told him what Anderson said.” Miller crossed his arms. “He was out of line.”
I nodded, still remembering the words so clearly, the phrasing. He’d done it on purpose, and I’d fallen for it.
With a touchdown like that, I think I should celebrate by fucking your sister, or have you already been doing that this whole time behind Miller’s back?
Anger surged through me.
She was my sister.
My baby sister.
I’d never looked at her like—bile bit at the back of my throat—like that. I’d never wanted people to even know she was adopted so they couldn’t use her against me, or make her feel bad about herself, but that was Anderson for you.
He was a manipulative tool who fed off others’ pain. And seeing Miller with Kinsey had finally pushed him off that ledge, the one that I knew he would fall off the longer he went without getting what he wanted, and what he wanted was Kinsey. I knew he would slip up, I knew his true colors would show, I just didn’t expect for him to drag me down with him.
“And?” My voice was hoarse.
“He’s off the team.” Miller shrugged. I visibly relaxed. “It helped that I told Coach about his past with Kinsey.”
“You did what?” I roared. “You had no right to tell Coach about that!”
Sanchez pressed a hand to my chest and shoved me back. “Actually, since he loves her, he kind of does. This is what love looks like, man, it protects, not by keeping everything hidden but by being honest.”
I blinked at him. “Are you shitting me right now?”
“I love her.” Miller’s eyes met mine. “I’d do anything to protect her.”
“It’s not Coach’s business. It’s nobody’s damn business!”
“You can’t fix everything!” Miller shouted, “God, look at you! You’re a mess!” He got right up in my face. “Not only are you the best quarterback in the league, but you’re family, and you’re wrecking everything because you can’t see past your own damn pride! Yes, I love her. But you can still love her too! And yes, it sucks that your dad is sick, but at least you have time with him. You’ve got a team that’s counting on you to lead them! You wanna be a hero? Then act like it! Starting now.” He shoved me against the wall. “Swallow your pride, apologize to the team, and go talk to Kinsey. Get your shit figured out and realize that life isn’t about memorizing every single play. Life isn’t perfect, you can’t always plan for things. Sometimes they happen, and all you can do is react in a way that’s worthy of the way your little sister looks at you every damn day, the way your team looks at you, the way we look at you.”
Sanchez sighed. “For the record, most the time I look at you like you’re a giant prick.”
Miller grinned.
I bit down on my lower lip to keep from doing something insane like laughing in such a tense situation, but I couldn’t help it. A laugh escaped, followed by another.
Until all three of us were wiping tears from our eyes.
Brothers.
They were my brothers.
The laughter died down.
I looked at Miller, really looked at him, and it was like our responsibilities shifted, like I’d given him that piece to take without even realizing that I needed to let it go.
To let Kinsey go.
“You really love her?”
“Yeah, man.” Miller nodded. “I really do.”
“And if she gets sick—”
“I’ll make her soup,” he interrupted with an irritated sigh. “I’ve got this. You just have to let me take it, man.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
Sanchez crossed
his arms and shook his head. “Guys, I know this was one of those moments . . . so, there’s only one thing left to do.” He wrapped his arms around both of us amidst the cursing and yelling between me and Miller.
“What the hell do you boys think you’re doing?” Coach yelled, the door slamming behind him.
“Hugging it out, Coach!” Sanchez yelled. “You want in?”
“Sanchez.”
“Yeah, Coach?”
“You’re a pain in my ass!”
“Was that a yes?”
Coach rolled his eyes and mumbled, “I’d punch him if I didn’t need him so bad.”
“Heard that,” Sanchez yelled.
Coach shook his head at us, and then offered a smile in my direction. “You done acting like a little shit?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good to hear it. No practice tomorrow, and gentlemen, if I walk back in here and see you hugging again—you’re all running.”
“Nothing wrong with brotherly love, Coach!”
“Uh-huh.” He walked back out of the room.
We’d broken apart already.
I took a seat in one of the chairs and grabbed my bag. “Now what?”
“Now, you start groveling.” Miller patted me on the back. “Starting with your sister.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
KINSEY
Miller texted me to meet him at home. It still brought a smile to my face to think about that. Home. We were living together.
He said he loved me.
And he texted home.
I grinned and opened the door to the apartment, then nearly ran in the opposite direction when my brother stood up from the couch and very slowly started walking toward me until I really looked at him.
I’d never seen him look so broken.
So tired.
So done.
“Kins—” His voice caught.
I rushed into his arms, too preoccupied with how horrible he looked to be angry. I held on to him for dear life while he kissed my forehead over and over again.
With a sigh, he touched his forehead to mine and braced my shoulders with his hands. “You were four the first time.”
Tears filled my eyes. “Jax, you don’t have to do this.”
“Four,” he repeated, ignoring me. “I saw the tree slam into your house. I’d never been so freaked out in my life. My parents were gone, and I knew you were alone. I ran like hell, thankful to God that your front door was open. And when I finally found you. You were”—his voice shook—“. . . you were sobbing in the corner, your feet cut up from the shattered windows.”
Tears filled my eyes at the memory. I’d been so afraid. So desperate for someone to hug me, to tell me everything was going to be okay.
“You looked like an angel,” I whispered. “I asked you if that’s why God put you next door, to look after me.”
“And I said yes.” Jax closed his eyes. “That I’d be your savior every day, every night, until the day I died.”
“You carried me.”
“I carried you through the storm,” Jax added. “And I remember so distinctly promising myself that I wouldn’t let anything hurt you. And for a few years, once the adoption went through, once you were really a Romonov . . . everything was perfect. And then you got sick and you were so helpless.” He shuddered. “It was stupid, but I remember at the time hating myself, blaming myself for carrying you through the storm, wondering if maybe that’s why you got sick.”
“Oh, Jax.” I shook my head. “One storm doesn’t make people sick.”
“I was so scared, and once the doctors told us it wasn’t cancer but lupus, and that you were going to be okay, I promised myself again that I’d make sure nothing would hurt you—nothing would touch you.” His voice cracked. “And in my mind somehow, I’d helped save you again just like I promised.” He paused. “You were, you are, my best friend.”
Tears slid down my cheeks.
“But I couldn’t protect you from Anderson.” He swore. “His abuse caused your body to attack itself, and when we found out you were getting flare-ups again, I blamed myself. You met him because of me. You trusted me, therefore you trusted him. I should have seen how badly he was treating you. I should have fought like hell to get you away from him.” His fists clenched.
“Jax.” I cupped his face. “You can’t save the world.”
“I can try.”
“No.” I shook my head. “You can’t.”
“Clearly.” His smile was sad. “Because it seems every time I try, I mess up even more than before.”
“Hate to break it to you, brother, but you are human.”
He scowled. “Bullshit, you’ve always said I look like Captain America.”
“Doesn’t mean you have superpowers even though I secretly always believed you did. It was my fault too, Jax. I put you in that position, not realizing how much pressure it put on you. You saved me from Anderson, and when you sent me away, you were trying to save me again, but this time . . .” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “This time it didn’t work because I’d found someone who treated me not like I was about to break, but like I was unbreakable.”
“I never meant to treat you that way.”
“I know.” I hugged him. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose, Jax.”
“The bastard loves you, and I can’t make him stop.”
I laughed against his chest. “Let me guess, you tried and he said no?”
“Something like that.” His laughter joined mine. “I’m sorry, Kins, so sorry. For telling everyone about your illness, for being overprotective, for—everything.”
“Don’t be.” I shrugged. “You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t an overprotective asshole with a God complex.”
He pinched my side. “Very funny.”
“Dad said you’d come to your senses.”
Tears filled Jax’s eyes. “He knows me well.”
“Because you’re him.” I smiled. “Don’t you see? You are just like him, protecting everyone and everything around you, fighting for what’s good, what’s right. You’re his son, and I know he couldn’t be more proud of you.”
“He’s dying,” Jax whispered. “And we can’t stop it.”
“No.” I hugged him tighter as my heart squeezed in my chest. “But we can live . . .”
“You still remember, huh?”
“You told me it was my only job.”
“Live.”
“And look at me now.” I pulled away from him. “Miller said something that helped me. He said it’s not going to be okay, not today, not tomorrow, not during the funeral . . . he said he couldn’t lie to my face, that it was going to hurt, but he said eventually, it does hurt less, and that one day, the hurt won’t be as intense. So even though it hurts right now, and I’m sure it’s going to get a lot worse . . . I’m looking forward to that day, when it’s all a little less.”
“Wow.” Jax shoved his hands into his pockets. “No wonder you fell in love with the guy. Brutal honesty.”
“I needed to hear it.”
“I think I did too.”
The door to the apartment opened. Miller slowly walked in, looking between us like he wasn’t sure if a fight was going to break out or if we were finally okay.
“You sucked today,” I said, shattering the moment. “You both did. Maybe try not to get into a fight next time and keep your heads in the game.” I pointed at Miller. “Your blocking was good, but you’re better than that, and you know it.” I turned to Jax. “And don’t even get me started on your throws. Almost every time you took at least four seconds and barely made it out of the pocket. You’re faster than that, stop dancing around and get us a win next week!”
“I love it when she talks dirty.” Miller winked at me.
Jax groaned and plugged his ears before walking to Miller, punching him in the stomach then patting him on the back. “Welcome to the family. Remember, I sit at the head of the table during family dinner, the leather recliner is mine when
we have a non-game week, and if you even think about stealing the last chocolate chip cookie, I will end you.”
“I love your mom’s cookies.”
I groaned behind my hands.
Jax and Miller both chuckled, did a weird man hug, and my brother left.
Miller grinned at me. “So, how’d it go?”
I held out my hands. “It was good to talk about everything, including all the things I probably need to talk about with you, but haven’t.”
Miller nodded. “I always figured you would when you were ready, I know it can’t be easy.”
“No, it’s not.” I could still feel the glass in my feet, the tubes poking out of my body while my blood was transfused. “But—”
The door jerked open, admitting Jax, his face ghastly pale. “Kins, Mom just called, we gotta go.”
“What?”
“It’s Dad.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
MILLER
Everything in life comes full circle. Everything.
I gripped Kinsey’s hand as we made our way down the hospital hall, the same hall we’d walked through two weeks ago for the Homecoming Dance. Staff walked by us, a few stared.
I’d texted Sanchez and Em the minute we hopped into Jax’s car. If it was bad, he needed his family—all of his family.
Jax handed me his phone to text Harley too, and when she responded, all I could do was stare at the phone and shake my head. That woman . . . was just what he needed, because her first response was to gather the team.
She understood that his team was family just like Kinsey was his family even if she wasn’t blood. If you were lucky enough to be in Jax Romonov’s life, you were there for an eternity, maybe that’s why it had been so hard for me to go behind his back, because I loved him like the brother I never had.
When Jax walked into the waiting room. It wasn’t to face this thing alone.
It was to battle with his brothers by his side, the way it was supposed to be. Every single team member was there, some with their family members by their side, and then there was Coach, tears in his eyes as he walked up to Jax and pulled him in for a hug.
Harley was standing next to Coach, holding a plate of cookies.
Her smile was big, hopeful.
Jax reached for her.
Infraction (Players Game Book 2) Page 23