Page 83 of Cocky Player

“Come on.”Screw the autographs.Phones were out, recording everything and I’d probably end up on some Athletes Behaving Badly social media site but who gave a shit.I paid people good money to clean that up for me.

I wrapped my arm around Brenna’s back and held her to my chest.I shoved into the women who scrambled backward.“Hey!”One of them wobbled on heels but her friends caught her.

The men who started a now restaurant-wide chant didn’t move as we came closer.

“Who’s the jersey jumper, Quinten?”

“Fuck off,” I growled.That I wouldn’t tolerate.At all.

One held up a phone and snapped a pic, getting right in Brenna’s face.She dug her face into my chest like she was trying to burrow inside.

“Move.Now.”It wasn’t often fans got out of control.Most were polite, but it was a late night probably filled with alcohol and fueled by a herd mentality.The restaurant was losing its mind and near the front door, I saw parents ushering out several small children like they saw the storm brewing as vividly as me.

Too bad I was so far away from that damn door.

Someone tripped, bumped into me, and I reached out to grab them.Doing so though forced me to untangle from Brenna and as I did, one of the chant-starters grabbed her.

“Hey honey, I bet I can do for you when Quinten passes you on.”

“Hey!”I shouted and reached for her.But Brenna had frozen in his grip, her eyes wide.Her face was pale and she wasn’t moving.Wasn’t saying anything.

“Brenna!”I called to her, but the crowd separated us.One of the men touched her hair, and I elbowed whoever was next to me, eliciting a scream from a female.

Goddamn it.

I pushed through the growing crowd to the men whowere still fucking touching her.And then they let go.Brenna spun in a slow circle, blinking, but it was like she didn’t see anything.

Her eyes rolled back into her head.

“Brenna!”I yelled, finally reaching her, but her legs folded like paper and I caught her right before her head smacked to the cement floor.

Twenty-Eight

Brenna

I wasawake but not alert.This strange, so strange comatose feeling of being aware of the world around me but unable to respond.

I couldn’t remember how I got to Connor’s car, but I came to as he turned a corner, almost throwing me into his lap.He was rushing through the streets, intent on taking me to the hospital but I’d stopped him.

“Home,” I’d said over and over.“Home home home.”

I wanted to gohome.

He took me to my apartment.It was my home.Not what I meant, but I struggled to find any other words to tell him, so instead I stayed quiet while he carried me up the floors to my apartment, dug my keys out of my purse and flew open the door so harshly I was vaguely aware of the bang and crash as it closed behind us.

Gina had run from her room.“What the hell?”She’d shouted, surprised at our entrance and when Connor started walking toward my room, Gina followed.

“What the hell, Connor?”

From her bedroom door, Brandon’s face peeked out and he swore, closing the door.

Connor had me laid in the bed and faced Gina.“I don’t know what the fuck just happened.We were at dinner.Fans recognized me and I can’t even explain how fucking insane they went.Shit.”He scrubbed his hair.From my view of his back, he was breathing heavy.I remembered that.The first fan who’d walked up, glared at me and then dismissed me in the span of a breath.

There had been some men.Touching me.One tugged on my hair.One said something.Maybe the same man.Everything was so cloudy.Swirled together and I couldn’t place what was reality and what had been my fears of whatcouldhappen.

“I didn’t know what to do, Gina.She passed out.I saw her fucking crumple to the floor and—”

His breath hitched and I laid there on my bed, half sitting, watching Gina hug him unable to tell him it was okay.I was fine.It happened sometimes.Not often.Hadn’t for a while.I’d be fine after sleep.

---