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The Keeper (Playing to Win #1)(15)

Author:Bella Matthews

Do you remember marrying me yet?

Lindy

No. That’s what we need to talk about.

We shouldn’t have gotten married.

Easton

I disagree.

Lindy

Easton . . . How can you say that? I don’t even remember marrying you.

Easton

That’s exactly why I can say that. I know what happened Saturday night, princess. And it wasn’t a mistake. If you can tell me you remember it too and still want an annulment, I’ll give you an annulment.

Lindy

Why are you being difficult?

Easton

Because you’re worth it.

Gotta go, wife. I’ve got a game to play.

Because you’re worth it.

Damn him.

Lindy

What do you do when you can’t shake a funk?

Everly

I remember that I have a great ass and things could be worse.

Brynlee

This is why we’re friends.

Gracie

You do have a great ass.

Everly

You’re just saying that because we have the same ass.

Kenzie

You just made me snort Coke out of my nose.

Lindy

WHAT!

Kenzie

The soda. Come on. It’s not like Evie said it.

Everly

I’ve never snorted anything up my nose, thank you very much.

Lindy

I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe.

Everly

Good. Funk gone. Now on with your day.

For those of you following the newest super couple, Kroydon Hills’ favorite goalie was on fire last night during the Vegas Vipers game against the Colorado Crush. Still waiting to see if this couple is going to be bicoastal. I’d hate to see that jet fuel bill. I don’t know, peeps. Should we be on baby watch? Stay tuned and see.

#KroydonKronicles

EASTON

“I’ve been expecting your call, kid. Thought it would have come a little earlier than this though.”

“Listen, old man, I’m pushing thirty. I think it’s time you retired the whole kid thing,” I tell Becket as I wait for my Uber outside the Philadelphia airport. “And it’s only been a few days.”

“Rumor has it you’re old and married, at least according to Juliette and a few hundred gossip sights.” Yeah . . . Becks has always had a way with words. “And it’s been almost a week.”

“Looks that way.” Not that my wife has returned a single one of my calls since she texted me the day after she left Vegas. And I’ve been calling. “And you’re arguing semantics. A few days. Almost a week. I say tomato . . .”

My Uber pulls up, and I slide into the back seat and confirm the address with the driver.

“Why are you giving someone my address, Easton?” Becks questions.

“Because I’m coming home, Becket.”

“Home? Like home, home?” he asks, and okay, yeah, maybe now I do feel like a kid again because this is how Becks used to question me before I moved out.

“Home. Like Kroydon Hills home, Becks. Like Max offered me a trade this weekend, and I accepted it, home. We had to hammer out a few details, but it was official as of this morning.”

Becks sucks in an audible breath and blows it out in a long, low whistle. “Well damn, kid. It took you long enough. Max has been making that offer for a long time. Glad to know you finally took it. And a little pissed he didn’t tell me.”

“Yeah. I know. I can feel the I told you so vibes through the phone. And don’t be mad at Max. I asked him to let me break the news.” I look out the window at the dusky, snow-covered city and think about all the reasons I wasn’t ready to come home until now. Most of them starting and ending with Lindy.

“Maybe I wasn’t talking about the trade,” he taunts. “You’ve got the family pretty upset with Lindy and you. You ready to talk about that yet?”

“You ready to listen? Because the messages Jules has been leaving me don’t really sound like she’s ready to hear me out. She just sounds pissed.”

“Listen, Juliette may not be your mom, but she loves you and Kenzie the exact same way she loves Blaise. It doesn’t matter that she didn’t give birth to you. You’re hers. Ours. And she’s hurt. We didn’t exactly expect to find out from social media that Lindy and you got drunk and married in Vegas. It’s safe to say some of the family may be a little pissed off.”

Becket Kingston came into my life a week after my mother died. I was an angry teenager, mad at the world. He didn’t try to change me or fix me or force me into some fucked up box that would fit the Kingston mold. Instead, he spent time getting to know me. Setting boundaries and proverbially knocking me down whenever I stepped over them, which I did, a lot. He never raised a hand and rarely raised his voice. No. He used his words. He led by action and demanded I follow. That’s how Becks works. Probably why he’s spent the past decade as a US senator.

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