Page 128 of Comeback
His jaw tightens an awful lot like his little brother’s did just a few moments ago.
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask him. I can’t imagine having to work alongside Walker Graham all day long. Especially knowing how he taunts Archer every chance he gets.
“Me?” he asks, raising one brow. “I should be asking you that.”
“You have,” I remind him. “And I’m fine.”
He doesn’t look like he believes me.
“Okay, fine is a stretch, but I’ve accepted it, and I decided I’m not letting him run me off. Maybe he’ll sell the building or maybe he won’t, but I can only control what I can control. Even if Eleanor found another buyer, there’s no guarantees with them either. I’m going to make that dance studio everything I ever dreamed, and if eventually I have to find another place, it will be okay. I know lots of big, strong men who can help me.”
He looks at me with all the awe that I feel when I watch him play football or interact with Greer.
“I’d do anything for you,” he says.
“I know. Which is just another reason I’m not faking shit for some guy who is intimidated by how talented you are.”
That might not be how Archer looks at it but if Walker wasn’t threatened by him, he wouldn’t need to go to such lengths to piss off Archer and make his life hell. Seriously, who has time for that?
“Fuck, I love you,” he says as he closes his eyes and presses his lips to mine.
I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing that.
36
ARCHER
“I’ll have a Jack and Coke,” Flynn says as he slides onto a stool in front of the bar.
“Save the Jack.” Brogan side-eyes Flynn as he takes a seat on his right. I take the one on his left. “And a Modelo.”
“Blue Moon for me. Thanks,” I tell the bartender, who looks like he’s already had a tough night and isn’t in the mood to deal with us.
“You two are no fun anymore,” Flynn says.
“Maybe you want to lay off the drinking for a night,” I say. “The living room still smells like a liquor cabinet.”
I get a very predictable eye roll from my younger brother.
“You know, I can get served pretty much everywhere without an I.D.”
“A minor in possession charge will not help things right now, Baby Holland.” Brogan tips his head to the bartender as he sets his beer in front of him.
I nod my agreement. Flynn still hasn’t said much about being cut from the team, but he’s always been one that needs to come around to talking on his own. Trying to force it out of him will just make him close off more.
Brogan, however, is not that patient.
“What the hell happened in Minnesota?” he asks, swiveling in his seat to stare down Flynn.
“I lost the most important game of the season.”
“So did the rest of your teammates,” I remind him.
“It’s not the same and you know it.”
“Fuck that,” Brogan says.
I tip my beer to him in a silent cheers. I wholeheartedly agree. Fuck that.
