Page 22 of The Rebound
“I forgot I was supposed to do breakfast with my brother.”
“Is that him?”
My pulse spikes a bit. I didn’t realize this would become ameet the familykind of situation so quickly. And by the way Kinley is staring blankly at the door, I don’t think either of us really knows what to do in this moment.
“Yeah. If you don’t want to meet him yet—”
“No, no, it’s fine. Lemme go put a shirt on.”
I lean over and press a kiss to the top of her head before retreating to the bedroom. I grab my T-shirt from the chair in the corner of her room. Once I’m dressed, I smooth my hair in the mirror, listening as Kinley opens the door and another man’s voice echoes through the condo.
A familiar voice.
Dread creeps down my spine as I struggle to place it. Curious, I step out of the room and down the hall, until I’m standing face-to-face with none other than the Boston Titans’ team captain, Walker Reeves.
Shit.
“Saint?” His eyes nearly pop out of his skull at the sight of me. “What are you ...”
I look at Kinley a little helplessly, who is staring at us both with the sudden realization that her big brother and her new fuck buddy already know each other.
Good times.
“What’s up, Reeves?” I say weakly.
Why is it that my life never ceases to be a goddamn circus? Why did I never give any thought to the fact that Kinley’s last name is Reeves? What is it about me that attracts unbridled disaster?
His expression darkens as the gears in his head start to click, sparking a flurry of emotions behind his eyes. “Saint ... what thefuckare you doing here?”
My clothes are rumpled, and I’m sure my hair is sticking up in like six different directions. There’s no denying that I slept here, that Kinley and I just woke up.
“Walker ...”
Kinley holds up a hand to stop her brother, stepping between us as he advances on me. He’s looking at me like he’d love to beat the ever-loving shit out of me if I don’t make a quick exit.
“I’ll get out of here. Enjoy your breakfast.” My words come out stiff and robotic as I grab my shoes and beeline for the door.
Who knows if I’ll ever see Kinley again after this shitstorm, besides in awkward hallway run-ins. To spare my heart the hurt, I don’t even give her a final glance.
“Saint, wait,” she calls out.
The door clicks behind me before I can make the decision to turn back and clear things up.
There goes the one good thing I had going for me. And probably my career too.
Well, fuck.
7
KINLEY
Walker swipes his credit card aggressively in the reader and pays for our drinks—a cold brew for him and an iced herbal tea for me.
The poor barista scurries away, probably terrified of the big burly man with the bad attitude. He shoves the card back in his wallet, grumbling about the price of cold brew these days. Ever since he walked in on Saint and me at the condo earlier ... let’s just say my brother hasn’t been verypeppythis morning.
“I could have paid for my own, you know,” I mutter, poking him teasingly in his side.
“It’s fine,” he growls.
