Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
“Be still, or I will break your neck,” Jean warned him, and Bryson froze.
Laila appeared at his side. “Ease up.”
Jean didn’t see why he should let go, but he forcibly relaxed his grip on Bryson’s shirt. Bryson choked on the first breath he managed and coughed dramatically like he’d somehow forgotten how to breathe. He was stupid enough to try sitting up, so Jean used a hand on his forehead to slam him back down. Laila’s grip went bruising, and he didn’t miss the way she cast a quick look around the empty street. “Enough, Jean.”
“You don’t know who you’re messing with,” Bryson said, glaring up at Jean. “I’m a Wilshire. Who the fuck are you?”
“I am Jean Moreau,” Jean said, and Bryson tensed up so fast it was a wonder he didn’t crack a bone in the process. It was a curious thing, being feared off the court; normally only his opponents regarded him with any measure of dread. Jean assumed Bryson had watched the interview and heard about his parents’ supposed connections. He brushed the speculation aside and said, “You’re trespassing.”
“I’m looking for my brother,” Bryson said. “You assaulted me unprovoked.”
“Did he?” Laila asked. “I promise I can find a dozen witnesses who’ll say you vandalized my car after I wouldn’t let you inside.”
“You bit—” Bryson lost the rest when Jean shoved him hard into the cracked glass.
“Like I said: wait in your car or leave,” Laila said. “If you set foot on my property again, I will file a restraining order against you. I don’t care how many Wilshires are on the force; none of them are stupid enough to take your word over mine.”
She waited to see if he argued, but Bryson only glared at her. Jean made a quiet note to figure out the hierarchy between their families after he figured out how to fix her broken windshield. Satisfied by his silence, Laila motioned for Jean to follow. “Leave him. He isn’t worth the headache.”
“One swing with a racquet would shut this half-baked baguette up for good,” Jean suggested, but Laila only tugged at his shirt until he finally backed away from Bryson.
Bryson didn’t say a word as they went up the stairs and inside. Laila kicked her security bar into place as soon as she’d done the locks, and the two of them went into the living room together. Jeremy was standing frozen where Jean left him. Cat had her arms out and waiting, and the look on her face was only a shade too anxious to be murderous. Laila folded herself into Cat’s tight embrace without hesitation. Jean stopped in front of Jeremy and waited with his gaze averted.
“Someone please remind me to talk to our neighbors,” Laila said, muffled against Cat’s shirt. “I need to bribe some witnesses with a few months’ reduced rent in case he wants to start a proper fight.”
“Will do,” Cat promised.
“We heard glass,” Jeremy said, looking between them. “Everyone okay?”
“Everyone important,” Laila said, turning her head to peer at him. “Bryson jumped on my car and cracked the windshield in a dozen places, but Jean and I are all right.”
“Jumped.” Jeremy’s stare was heavy, but Jean refused to return it. “Jean?”
“The contract I signed says I must represent the Trojans appropriately in public. This is private property.”
“That’s a thin line to argue.” He didn’t sound pleased, so Jean checked the line of his shoulders. He was tense, but not coiled to strike. Jean didn’t realize how obvious he was about it until Jeremy continued with a weary, “You know it is, or you wouldn’t be avoiding me right now. I won’t lie and say I’m not disappointed, but the fault is mine for not following you to the door.”
Jean dragged his stare to Jeremy’s face. Jeremy said nothing, seemingly content to study Jean’s guarded expression, and then Laila lifted her head from Cat’s shoulder to say, “For the record, it was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, and I don’t even like men. It would have done you so much good to see that bitch humbled, Jeremy.”
It was enough to startle a laugh from Jeremy, and a wry smile crept across his lips. “Thank you for defending her, but be more careful, would you?”
“Yes,” Jean said, and followed Jeremy’s lead in getting settled again. He was acutely aware of Kevin’s considering gaze, but Jean refused to acknowledge him. Kevin was at least smart enough not to say anything, and they went back to their game as if nothing had happened.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jeremy
After four years with the Trojans, Jeremy had lost count of the ways his teammates made him proud. There were some standout moments to be sure: the way they rallied around him his freshman year, how quickly most of them had given Xavier their unwavering support when he chose to start transitioning his sophomore year, and their commitment to the Foxes’ imperiled team last year that culminated in their spectacular showdown at semifinals.