The Harder You Fall

Parents and children fight. That’s part of life. You and Dad exchanged heated words, get over it. You both walked away knowing you were loved.

Brook Lynn hadn’t witnessed the fight, and Jessie Kay hadn’t wanted to spill the details, but she’d done it anyway. Panic attacks had been a way of life for her back then, and her sister deserved to know one of the many reasons why.

“No. I remember the last twenty thousand.”

“Good.” Brook Lynn nodded. “Now tell me what I missed game-wise.”

The soccer game. A life raft. “West has tried to murder everyone on the field, and Jase has guarded the goal as if it’s your virtue.

“In other words,” Brook Lynn said with a grin, “we’re winning.”

Exactly. “So how’d the fitting go?”

“You mean the modern-day torture session I willingly signed up for? Well, if you ever decide you’d like to acquire a few body-image issues, just gain a few pounds before trying to zip your wedding gown and watch the seamstress’s horrified expression in the mirror.”

No one insults my sis—but me. “So you’ve gained a few pounds. So what? You’ve done Jase a favor. You’ve given him more of you to love.”

Harlow snorted. “While your logic is impeccable—”

“I know, right? You’re welcome, Jase,” Jessie Kay shouted to the field.

He didn’t hear her over the cheers and boos rising from the crowd, but somehow West did and he frowned over at her. The distraction cost him. He’d been waiting for the ball to cross the centerline, and when it did, he missed it, for the first time allowing a member of the other team to soar past him, heading for the goal.

Oops.

“—going to have a pity party, invitation one, if yesterday’s brownies...and this morning’s cupcakes...ruin my wedding gown,” Harlow finished.

Jessie Kay barely paid attention to her friend, mumbling, “You’re getting married this freaking weekend. The only thing you need to worry about is the death of your dating life.”

“Before Beck, I had no dating life. My scars—”

“Are hideous. We know, you’ve told us.” She watched as West jumped back into the fray, slamming his big, delicious body into the guy who had his ball. “We love you, anyway.”

When the final buzzer sounded, the Goal Scouts won four to zero.

Her takeaway? Mercy didn’t exist in soccer.

Knowing the boys had to shower and change, she and the girls made their way to the lobby to wait. The Ball Busters emerged first, each man making an obvious point to avoid her gaze as he passed her.

Had she become total dog food since the game kicked off?

“Jase,” Brook Lynn squealed, rushing over when her fiancé stepped into the room, his hair damp and his skin scrubbed clean. “You were freaking awesome.”

He winked at her. “You know I can’t help that.”

“Hey. That’s my line.” Beck shouldered his way past his friend to get to Harlow. “We’re going out to celebrate our victory. Tell me you’re coming with us, love, or you’ll break the heart you resurrected.”

Harlow smiled sweetly at him. “Are you paying?”

Sweat beaded on Jessie Kay’s palms as West moved into view, his gaze hard and steady on the exit, as if he couldn’t wait to leave. He wore a black cashmere sweater and an old pair of jeans tucked into well-used combat boots. He was casual sophistication with a mule kick of dominant alpha, and he outshone every other man present.

“I’m not paying,” Beck said, and Harlow pouted. “But West is.”

Harlow—Jessie Kay’s ride—fist pumped.

West arched a dark brow. “I am?”

“Well, then, we’re definitely going.” Harlow nudged Jessie Kay with an elbow. “Right?”

A free meal? “Sure. Count me in.”

West motioned to the door with a clipped wave and she thought—hoped—he would put his hand on the small of her back to usher her forward. But as they walked to the parking lot, he maintained a steady distance between them. Of course, Jase decided to drive Brook Lynn’s car and Beck decided to drive Harlow’s, the two couples entering their respective vehicles and leaving Jessie Kay and West standing outside. Alone.

Wasn’t awkward at all.

He opened the passenger door for her. “Get in.”

Shocked by the gentlemanly gesture but not the bossy command, she slid inside the vehicle. And instantly regretted it. The air smelled like him, pure seduction and sweet caramel. Trembling, she buckled up and peered out the window, refusing to give in to the urge to watch his big hands molest the steering wheel.

“By the way,” he muttered, “you still owe me a sandwich.”

“It’s your word against mine.” Going for casual, she said, “So where are we headed?”

“A hamburger dive I’ve loved since I was a kid.”

“Wait. Hold everything. You were once a kid?” She gave a mock gasp, hand fluttering over her heart. “I’m sorry, but I demand proof.”

“Too bad. There’s none available.”

Please. “Surely there are pictures.”

“No.”

“Well, why the heck not? Did you destroy them? I bet you destroyed them. Didn’t think you looked handsome enough?”

Without any inflection of emotion, he said, “Actually, no one cared enough to take any.”

No. No, she refused to believe it. If he was potent now despite the shadows haunting his eyes and the tension that always radiated from him, he must have melted hearts as a child.

When she glanced over at him, however, her confidence withered. He kept his attention on the road, his posture stiff and his knuckles bleached of color. Just then, he was a man who’d revealed more than he liked.

He’d just told the truth, hadn’t he?

Wow. His own parents, however long he’d been with them—not to mention all those foster parents—hadn’t spared a few seconds out of their busy days to immortalize a moment of his childhood? How gut-wrenching. Wrong on every level.

Sadness for the little boy he’d been washed over her. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Even if you’d looked like you were born downwind of an outhouse, I would have snapped a thousand photos of you. And then used those photos to blackmail you later, but my reasons are inconsequential.”

“Thank you?” He changed lanes to pass a minivan. “But it’s not like I have a monopoly on crappy childhoods.”