Page 66 of Fashionista's Playbook

“Right.”

I racked his barbell with my right hand before switching to that arm myself.

“You need someone looking out for you, Hollis was all about himself. You could see those dollar signs flashing in his eyes.”

Vin had never been a fan of Ace or Lincoln, not since they penned the deal that brought me to Texas. He’d wanted me to stay closer to Florida—to his social crowd, what he knew. And for the first time in my career, I made a move based solely on the benefit to myself.

“Should have listened to me about him a long time ago. You know I got you.”

In the open area, floor covered with mats and wall covered in mirror, I launched into the workout our training staff had set up just for me. Funny at first, listening to a woman no taller than my chest tell me how to best acclimate my body to my position with the least amount of injuries. But, Serena Rush (Assistant Athletic Trainer) knew her shit.

Physically, I was in the best shape of my life. Mentally, the same. Coming to Texas was the reason behind all that.

“Now that you’ve canned the rat, you should look into a Miami trade or somewhere back east come free agency.”

His timing was laughable. I snorted as I squatted with the medicine ball. “I’m not going anywhere any time soon.” Hell, free agency was still four seasons out.

Moriah is in San Antonio.

The unexpected thought caused me to almost drop the ball, literally. I snatched it from the air and continued with the exercise. My legs started to burn, and my shoulders strained with the effort to life the ball.

“Man, Florida is home.”

“Nah. This is home for me now.”

Vin stepped up to the punching bag and threw slow, methodic punches. The way he’d taught me years ago.

“You got a house here, you play here. But it ain’t home. Just like your team ain’t family.” When I cut my eyes sideways at him, he laughed without humor. “You remember what Dad used to say, right?”

I did, but he was gonna tell me anyway.

“Family over everybody. No one is going to have your back like me. Not Coach Caley, not that prick Mercer.”

Lincoln had been one of my coaches in college, the one Vin blamed for blowing the whistle on the alumni bribery. “You’re the one that took the truck, Vin. Not Mercer.”

Vin hugged the bag, leaned around the side, and rolled his eyes. “What I’m saying is that the only people we can trust is each other. I’m your number one, from day one. Ace Hollis was only ever looking out for himself.”

I wasn’t a big enough asshole to point out there wasn’t much of a difference between the two. Instead, I moved on from the squats and went to the heavy ropes, panting now and sweating.

“Your girl, the model, tried to get into the event.” I changed the subject, to keep from thinking about the could-have-beens.

I missed who my brother used to be, and no matter how much I wanted that guy back-he was gone. And it was my fault. He’d changed when he went away.

“Yeah. I saw her girl in there with Ward.” He paused punches long enough to waggle his eyebrows suggestively. “Could have been you, little bro.”

I jerked the ropes up and down, faster now. “Why do you keep pushing that shit, man? I ain’t interested, never have been.”

Vincent laughed through short breaths. “I saw where your interest was. Getting hot and heavy with the assistant now, aren’t you?”

“That a problem?” Fire crawled up my exhausted arms as I pounded through the last few reps.

“Hey, you’re just giving her a lot of power in your life. You trust too easily.”

I dropped the ropes with a heavy slap against the floor. When I straightened, clenching my jaw and my fists to keep from socking him, Vin sighed.

“What makes that jersey chaser somehow better than Moriah?”

“Because with a bitch like that, her intentions are up front. You know where you stand with her… Moriah, man, she’s gonna mess you all up. I can see it.”

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