Page 9 of My Brother's Enemy
Brick smirked. “I’d shoot my shot with her.”
“Damn,” someone hollered. “Brick never turns horndog.”
Another wolf-whistled.
A few laughed.
“Knock it off.” Bruge’s tone was sharp.
The room quieted.
“That’s unprofessional and inappropriate,” he added. “You guys know better.” And with that, he hunched back over his phone.
“Griff.”
The same assistant coach was back in the doorway. He frowned at me, his tie tossed over his shoulder and some of his hair messed up.
I jerked forward. “Sorry.”
Still in my jersey, I followed as he led me toward the press room. As we went past the coaching staff offices, I glanced in and almost stopped short.
Coach Hines was talking to a woman, alongside Mal Benoit, a representative for the team’s owners.
Brick was right. She didn’t seem like press. Coach was locked in and studying her.
She held herself apart from them, dressed in black pants and a buttoned-up black blazer. She was maybe five eight, a little taller than most women. She wasn’t skinny—a lot of women were so thin, they were like twigs waiting to be snapped—but she wasn’t big either. She was just strong. Firm. I knew, even from this distance, that I could wrap my arm around one of her legs and find straight muscle. Power.
I liked that look, or at least I did as of right now.
She was talking, but she glanced my way, and her eyes found mine. She faltered.
I felt punched in the gut.Jesus. Who was this woman?
Pale smooth skin. Dark eyes. Dark hair pulled back in a French braid, though I could still tell it was curly. She had astunning face—long and angular, with a cute little chin. And fuck me, but I knew her from somewhere…
There was a flicker of recognition, and I could’ve sworn I saw the same in her, but then it was gone. A neutral wall slammed in place.
I frowned at that.
“Griff. Seriously.” Someone nudged me from behind. It was Jesse Ray. “Press, dude.”
I shook out of whatever that had been to do my job. Press was part of that. There were going to be a lot of questions about the reason for the trade. But I wasn’t willing to give them even a morsel of truth. I’ve been protecting my sister all of my life, and that went double for my niece. The company line was that I’d asked for a change in teams, and my team had agreed to accommodate my wishes. There was no bad blood on either side of this trade. But it was a bullshit answer. The press knew it. The fans would know it too, and maybe it was the wrong move because they’d all keep talking about it until they learned the real reason I’d had to switch teams and switch cities within a span of two days.
I just didn’t care.
It was no one’s business that a few nights ago, my sister had found my sixteen-year-old niece unconscious and unresponsive. Zoey had overdosed.
7
RAIN
Ishowed up Monday morning at Mal Benoit’s office with two coffees. I handed him one. He seemed surprised but took it with a grin before sitting down. “You’re taking the job?” he asked.
I took a sip of my drink, placed it on his desk, and sat in a chair. “Tyler Griffin,” I said.
His eyebrows shot up. He rose to close his office door. “It was too big of an announcement,” he said as he returned. “I couldn’t risk it getting out.”
I realized he’d misunderstood me. “I’m not upset that you didn’t tell me. But I can’t take this job without disclosing a potential problem.”
