We’re on a high after winning our first game of the season and end up at The Hideout when we get back to Valley. It’s packed, especially for a Sunday night. Blair sits on my lap, and Z and Nathan are across the table from us, arguing over who is getting the next round from the bar.

“I’ll get a round. I want to go say hi to Vanessa, anyway.”

I let her go, watching as she pushes through to the other side of the bar where Mario and Vanessa sit with a group of baseball guys, including Shaw, who is still on my shit list. Rookie had two turnovers in the six minutes he was on the floor. The same six minutes I sat on the bench and watched in combined frustration and pain.

Nathan’s phone rings, and he silences it as he shakes his head. Z glances over and smirks. “Don’t ignore your momma, boy. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’ll call her later,” Nathan insists.

Zeke reaches over and picks up the phone, answering it before Nathan can stop him. “Hello, Mrs. Payne. It’s Zeke.”

Nathan grumbles and reaches for the phone, but Z moves the phone to the other ear. “Thank you, ma'am, I appreciate it. The team played well today. Yeah, your son is right here. Good to talk to you, Mrs. Payne.”

He hands the phone over to an angry-looking Nathan.

Jealousy eats at me. I absently check my own phone. Nothing. I feel a bit like a sullen child who is sitting around and wishing his parents would call or text or in some way acknowledge that he had a game today. I know they’re a thousand miles away and it isn’t like I expect them to make it to every game, but a good job or I’m proud of you text once in a while would be nice. I guess a hardship of being the parents of an elite athlete is that it gets old watching your kid win trophies and travelling to games every week because somewhere along the way, my parents totally checked out. They probably assumed they’d told me enough times they were proud that they could just stop.

“I think I’ll help Blair.”

I see the pity in Z’s eyes. Nothing gets past him, and I may not express my disappointment in my parents, but he knows me too well not to pick up on it.

Mario slides off the bar stool as I get near. “Congrats on the game. How’s the foot holding up?”

“It’s getting there,” I tell him. It’s my new canned answer since it’s the only thing people want to hear.

I look past him to Vanessa but missing in action is Blair. Did I pass her? Where’d she go?

“Hey, Vanessa.” She eyes me warily, clearly still not convinced that I’m not gonna drop kick her friend’s heart. Kiddie gloves are on with Blair. All the way on. I’m doing my best not to screw this up. She’s a cool chick, and I like spending time with her. “Where’d our girl go?”

“That douche canoe David grabbed her.” She points to the corner of the bar where Blair is talking to a guy I don’t know but instantly don’t like. He’s backed her into a dark space and leers over her in a way that sets all my alarm bells off.

“David?”

“Her ex-boyfriend,” Vanessa says. Blair and I haven’t gotten into the specifics of our past dating life. She mentioned she dated, but she played it off like it was no big deal. By the way Vanessa looks at me, it’s clear Blair left some important things out.

I step toward them, trying to keep an air of calm while I’m nothing but a knot of defensiveness as I approach.

"Everything okay?" I ask, leaving a few feet of space between myself and the back of the prick talking to my girl. Yeah, my girl. I'm regretting not laying down a claim.

Blair’s demeanor changes when she sees me. Her shoulders sag in relief but then stiffen as if she feels some weirdness about being caught talking to her ex. David turns with a scowl and gives me a once over.

“Mind your own business. We’re having a conversation that doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

Aww, hell no. I place myself between David and Blair. “My girl looks upset. I’d say that’s my business.”

His lip curls. “Your girl?” He looks to Blair for verification. I don’t bother checking her reaction because I can practically feel anxiety roll off her in waves.

“Wes.” I extend a hand, and the bastard glances at my palm and then dismisses it. Dismisses me.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” With a final patronizing glance, David turns and disappears into the crowd.

I wait until he’s completely out of sight before I turn to Blair. “You okay?”

Her hands shake in front of her. “Yes. I’m fine. You didn’t need to do that. We were just talking.”

I cross my arms and study her. I’m calling bullshit, but I can’t decide if she’s playing it off because he’s an asshole or because she’s embarrassed I caught her in a dark corner with another guy. “Friend of yours?”

“We dated last year. He was just asking about classes. I’m sorry if it looked like it was anything.”

“No reason to be sorry. You looked upset, and I wanted to make sure everything was good.”

“So, that wasn’t you peeing all around me?” Her lips pull into a knowing smile, calling me out for referring to her as my girl.

I rub a hand over my jaw. “Might have been a little of that.”

“Don’t worry.” She closes the space between us and throws her arms around my neck. It’s her go-to move, and I love the way it presses our bodies together. The contact immediately sends communication down below. Red alert, hot girl is touching you. Yep, I’m fourteen years old again. “I have zero interest in David. He’s a total . . .” She waves a hand at my ear like she’s grappling for the right word. “Douche canoe.”

“You ready to get out of here?” Ex-boyfriends, reminders of parents who don’t give a fuck? Yeah, I’m ready to bounce.

She places her hand in mine and tugs. “Bless out.”