Page 6 of Stolen Vows

Ten years ago

The music pulses around me,thick and heavy, a heartbeat all its own. My pulse matches the bass, each thump rattling the walls, sinking into my bones.

I roll my shoulders back, pressing my shoulder blades against the wall, tilting my head from one side to the other. A half-hearted attempt to shake the tension from my neck, to push the anxiety from my veins.

In theory, getting fucked up after game five sounds like a great idea. We just won regionals, after all. One step closer to the championship. But these assholes seem to forget we have conditioning drills at six a.m., and Coach couldn’t care less that we’re riding a win.

I can still hear his voice barking at us as we filed out of the locker room earlier tonight.“Winning doesn’t mean shit if you’re not ready for the next game. Get your heads outta your asses.”

My younger brother ambles toward me, arms wide, smile bright. He claps me on the shoulder, knocking his half-empty beer bottle against my full one.

“C’mon, bro. It’s a celebration. Loosen up a little, yeah?”

A celebration. I snort. “If by celebration, you mean a hundred random strangers drinking watered-down beer from a questionable keg and using it as an excuse to fuck around, then sure, Beau. It’s definitely a celebration.”

Beau’s head rears back, his grin slipping into a smirk. “A hundred? C’mon, bro. We both know you clocked the exact number of people who walked in tonight. You’ve had the perfect vantage point.”

He whistles, tipping his beer toward the front door before lifting his finger toward the ceiling. “But what you didn’t take into account is how many people are outside getting fucked up in our honor.”

I grit my teeth, my gaze flicking to the large windows overlooking the backyard. The guys strung up some patio lights last summer, but it’s too dark to make out anything other than a blur of movement.

Whatever. It’s not like Ineedto know how many people are here. It’s just one of those things I can’t help but notice.

Beau exhales sharply, his lip curling as he tips his beer back. “Thank fuck we don’t live here, though. I’d be pissed as hell if someone fucked around on our couch like that.”

It doesn’t take long to see exactly what he’s talking about. Our shortstop is sloppy drunk tonight with a girl in his lap. Roaming hands wander beneath clothes while hips grind together, lost in their own world on the worn leather couch, oblivious to everyone around them.

I take a slow sip of my beer, snorting softly. Some things you just have to tune out. At least it’s moderately better than the swill they’re serving out of the kegs in the kitchen. The team keeps a second fridge in the basement, stocked with the good stuff, and only a handful of us know the combination.

Beau grins. “Ah, good. So you’re going to celebrate after all.”

He scans the crowd, casually nodding at a few girls as they stroll past us, their interest obvious. One of them tucks her hair behind her ear, tossing a glance our way before whispering something to her friend. Beau tips his beer in their direction in silent acknowledgment.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Beau snorts, his gaze flicking back to the girls as they glance over their shoulders. “Wouldn’t kill you to have a little fun, you know.”

I sigh and resist the urge to rub my temples. “I know how to have fun. I just don’t think this”—I gesture vaguely at the crowded, beer-soaked room—“qualifies.”

Beau shifts his attention back to me. “C’mon, bro. It’s your senior year. I don’t care what you say, I know you’re going to miss this shit next year.”

He pauses just long enough that I steal a glance at him out of the corner of my eye.

“I’m gonna miss having you around, you know.”

Goddamn it. It’d be a lot easier to ignore him if he wasn’t so fucking earnest all the time. Beau’s never been afraid to talk about feelings, throwing them out into the world as casually as some people talk about the weather.

I shift my weight and glance at him. We’re the same height—or close enough that neither of us has ever bothered to argue about it. But where my hair is dark enough to be mistaken for black, his is more sun-streaked, dark blond with lighter strands from hours on the field. His build is a little broader, his presence a little louder. Always the easier one to talk to, the one people gravitate toward without thinking.

Still, something inside my chest twinges. It tightens, holding me immobile for a second, stealing my breath and pinching my spine straight. I roll my shoulders, stretching my neck from side to side the moment the feeling passes.

“It’s not like we’re never going to see each other again. We live together, remember?” I knock my shoulder into his, forcing a smirk. “I’ll still see you every day.”

His grin is slow to grow, his gaze flicking over my face like he’s trying to read something I’m not saying. “Yeah, I know. Still, consider it a graduation present and go have some fucking fun tonight, yeah? Go dance, do a keg stand, play beer pong, or fuck, take one of the many, many women batting their lashes at you up on their offer.”

I huff a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “You say that like it’s supposed to sound appealing.”

“Yeah, bro. It’s a gift you’re giving to yourself.” He claps me on the shoulder and shoves me forward a step. “Go make me proud.”

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