Page 102 of Boots & Scars

Everly danced around the kitchen with an ease that made my heart swell. Watching her made everything feel right in the world.

And for now, that was enough.

The morning had been perfect until the pounding on the door. Instantly, my body tensed. I shot Everly a quick glance; her eyes widened, reflecting the sudden intrusion of our bubble.

I moved to the door, every muscle coiled tight. When I swung it open, Dean Walker stood there, face twisted with barely controlled anger.

"Where is she?" he growled.

"I'm busy," I replied, starting to close the door in his face.

Walker’s hand shot out, catching it before it could shut. "Now's not the time," he snapped. "Dammit, Sinclaire, how fucking difficult is it for you to keep your hands off something you don't deserve? Now I have the press up my ass?—"

"Press?" I asked, confusion cutting through my annoyance.

"Oh, you didn't hear?" Walker sneered, his eyes burning with contempt.

"Hear what?" Everly’s voice chimed in from beside me. She had come up quietly and now stood there wearing just my shirt. Her hair was tousled from sleep and our thorough fucking, a fact that sent a possessive ripple through me.

Seeing her like that in front of Walker stirred something primal inside me—a mixture of pride and protectiveness. She looked thoroughly mine and unashamedly so.

Walker’s gaze flickered over her appearance, his jaw tightening visibly. "Great," he muttered under his breath. "Just great."

"What’s going on?" Everly pressed, her tone sharp with worry and curiosity.

"The paparazzi have caught wind of this... situation," Walker explained through gritted teeth. "Photos of you two together are all over the internet. Now everyone’s questioning why an NHL player is shacking up with an 18-year-old girl, who happens to be his stepsister."

"Stepsister?" Everly asked, wrinkling her nose.

I felt a surge of anger flare up inside me. "That's none of their damn business," I said coldly.

"Maybe not," Walker replied, "but it's become mine because it's causing a shitstorm for the school."

Everly glanced up at me, her eyes wide with concern. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders instinctively, pulling her closer. "We'll handle it," I assured her softly before turning back to Walker.

"And how do you plan to do that?" Walker challenged, crossing his arms over his chest.

"We'll figure it out," I answered firmly.

Walker shook his head in frustration. "You better hope so," he warned. "Because this mess isn’t going away on its own." Heshifted his gaze to Everly, softening slightly. "Your father called me."

"My father?" Everly's voice wavered slightly.

"He wants to talk to you," Walker repeated, his eyes never leaving her.

I tightened my grip on Everly, my body a shield against whatever storm Walker had brought to our doorstep.

Everly swallowed hard. "He does?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Walker nodded. "He wants to arrange a meeting. It's why I'm here since you weren't at your dorm."

A surge of protective anger flared up inside me. I wanted to tell Walker to fuck off, to tell him there was no way in hell Everly would meet with a man who threw her away without looking back. But I stopped myself. This decision had to come from her.

"Well?" Walker pressed, his patience wearing thin.

Everly took a deep breath, then nodded. "All right," she said firmly. "But Cooper's going to come with me."

Walker shook his head, already prepared for this argument. "He specifically said?—"

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