Page 7 of The Defender
After I opened the box last night—technically this morning—I’d immediately packed a bag and checked into a hotel. I didn’t know what the “gift” giver’s intentions were, but I wasn’t going home until I’d changed the locks and upgraded the security system. It was better to be safe than sorry.
Brooklyn and I entered the living room. Asher was the first to see me.
“Shit, DuBois, you miss me already? I just saw you yesterday.” He shook his head. “You’re getting clingy.”
“Fuck off. I’m here to see my sister. You’re like a wart on an otherwise cute little toad. Unwanted, but part of the package.”
“Play nice, boys,” Scarlett warned, but a hint of amusement gleamed in her eyes.
I set the takeaway on the coffee table and explained what happened with the delivery.
Asher and Scarlett had ordered enough food to feed a small village, though most of it was healthy stuff like grilled chicken and vegetables. We had to be careful with our diet during the season, so the only “fun” foods were courtesy of Scarlett.
“Actually, I think I’m going to head out,” Brooklyn said when I tried to hand her a plate.
“What? You just got here!” Scarlett protested.
“I know, but I already ate so I’m not…” Brooklyn trailed off. She glanced at her phone, her brow furrowing.
I put the plate down and leaned back. My bullshit radar clanged like a firehouse bell in my head. Brooklyn lived too far away for a quick drop-in, and she wasn’t the type to leave a social gathering simply because she couldn’t participate in an activity. This was the girl who arbitrarily gave up alcohol for a month over the summer andstilloutlasted everyone at the club.
Something was wrong. What did she see on her phone? Was it related to work or personal?
More importantly, why did I care?
“Sorry, I have to take this, but I’ll text you later, okay?” She hugged Scarlett goodbye. Her eyes met mine briefly over my sister’s shoulder. A small frisson of…something sparked in my blood.
I uncapped my water and took a swig, swallowing the sudden urge to ask her to stay.
Then she was gone, leaving nothing but a trace of perfume in my lungs.
Asher and Scarlett did most of the talking while we ate. Neither questioned why I’d showed up unannounced, but without Brooklyn here to lighten my mood, the weight of the past twenty-odd hours settled heavy on my shoulders again.
I finally spoke up toward the end of our meal. “I have to tell you guys something, but you can’t freak out.”
Scarlett set her fork down and eyed me with a mixture of intrigue and wariness. “Okay…”
I gave them a quick rundown of what happened after I parted with the team last night. “I opened the box and found this.”
I retrieved the item from my pocket and set it on the table.
Asher and Scarlett stared at it, their baffled expressions mirroring what I’d felt when I first saw it.
It was a doll. A large, painstakingly detailed crochet doll of me, to be exact, complete with a buzz cut, black button eyes, anda full Blackcastle football kit. Instead of my name on the shirt, it featured the letters BFF.
“BFF? As in Best Friends Forever?” Asher sounded confused. “What the fuck?”
“It could mean that. It could mean Big Fucking Failure. Who knows? There was no note or anything. Just the doll.”
In the grand scheme of things, it could’ve been worse. The intruder could’ve left a severed body part or a stalker-y surveillance photo of me, but the innocuous nature of the doll somehow made it more insidious. I didn’t know what they wanted. Why would they go to the trouble of breaking into my house, thereby risking arrest, just to leave a basic “gift”?
“God, this is creepy. Please tell me you went to the police.” Scarlett picked up the doll. Leaned in. Flinched. “They even got your scar right.”
I had a faint white scar on my knee from a childhood injury. Most people didn’t know about it. It was too small to see from afar, and magazines usually airbrushed it out of my photoshoots.
I hadn’t noticed until Scarlett pointed it out, but whoever crocheted the doll had nailed the exact shape and size of the scar.
A chill swept down my back, but I took the doll from her and forced a blithe tone. “If a fan is dedicated enough to make this, they’re dedicated enough to know I have the scar. It’s not a secret.”
