dancing again, Carson’s ass will be riding the pine, don’t stress about that. You just have to focus on getting your…” he swallows, his lips teetering with a smile, “…fang-like blowies that sound so … enjoyable, so you can get strong enough to get back out onto the field.” He laughs, unwrapping his taco.
“What am I walking into?” Lincoln Beckett, nicknamed the president by most, steps through the front door, carrying an armload of groceries.
“Not a conversation you can join,” Pax announces. “Since you began dating my sister, sex is not a discussion we can have.”
“Blow jobs aren’t sex,” I tell him. “Candace has clearly been lying to you about many things.”
Lincoln chuckles. Paxton glares at him.
“Tell me you picked up booze,” I say to Lincoln.
He shakes his head. “Are we out again?”
“It’s all right. I have to go out tomorrow. I’ll pick some up.” I scrounge through the mostly empty bag my food had been in, finding crumpled napkins and a tiny hole, but none of the hot sauce I’d asked for. “Son of a bitch,” I say on a sigh.
“Did you take your meds already?” Pax asks, giving me a confused look. “You already took your food out. It’s over here.” He points at the stack of wrapped food with his taco.
“They forgot my hot sauce.”
“I think we’ve got some in the fridge,” Lincoln says, heading toward the kitchen.
“It’s not as good as this shit.” I sound solemn, which is pretty fucking ridiculous, but this isn’t about some damn hot sauce. For the past four weeks, my luck has been shit. It’s as though I walked under a tunnel of ladders or opened a hundred umbrellas inside because everything that can go wrong has and continues to do so.
Lincoln reappears with a bottle of chilled hot sauce. “What are you guys watching?”
“Game tape,” I say. “If you want in, I’ve got extra food. Burritos or tacos, just leave my nachos.” I reach for the plastic-covered tray.
“I’m actually heading out soon. I’m going to make some dinner to bring to Raegan.”
Paxton and I both turn, shock likely written across our features.
“She’s got you whipped, man,” I tell him.
Pax blinks slowly as if unsure where he stands on this thin line.
Lincoln laughs, shrugging his shoulders as he shakes his head. He doesn’t say anything. I knew he wouldn’t, in part because Paxton is here, and the situation is still similar to an elephant walking over a frozen pond, and because Lincoln’s not one for sharing his feelings. I could go on, rag on him for all the times he’s stood us up in the past couple of months to be with Rae, but the fact I like them each separately and even more together stops me. I take the hot sauce from him and apply a liberal amount across my nachos as Pax starts yelling at the game, swearing at a fumble. “That shit can’t happen next year,” he says.
I eat a chip to keep myself from telling him to ease up, but the words fester until I give in. “You remember we went undefeated, right?”
“But we could have done better. We need to be better. This is going to be the year that defines our futures. If we can go undefeated again, there’s a good chance we’ll get drafted—” Pax stops like his own words just stung him in the ass. His jaw grows slack, and then he closes it.
“Wait. Did I just witness Paxton Lawson editing himself?” I tease.
“I’m sorry,” he says, defeat pinching his face. “I know you’re going to be fine. Whenever you meet a challenge, you dive in headfirst, and this will be no different.”
I nod, shoveling another chip into my mouth. “Damn straight. This shitty time will pass, and then I’ll be out there, dancing circles around those clowns.”
“Fuck, yes,” Lincoln says, moving closer to bump his fist against mine. “You want to go to the gym with us after practice tomorrow? We can do arms.”
I start to nod and then stop. “Can’t. I’ve got a date tonight, and I’m hoping to be out all night.”
“Playing the gimp card?” Lincoln asks. “Babe, I don’t think I can drive. I took a narcotic, and I had a heroic move that left me with a busted ACL, and I’m in dire need of your nursing skills and your mouth.” His impersonation of me has Paxton rolling.
“That’s not a bad angle to take,” I say, raising a finger. “I’ll have to remember that one, but I have