If there was a word for something bigger than hate, which was also much less impassioned, that’s what I needed to describe how I felt about Jacob Hove being the coach of the Babylon Bulldogs football team. He’d never been a huge fan of my kid brother when we’d been teenagers. Tate had wanted to play football since he was old enough to hold pigskin in his hands, so he’d idolized my high school boyfriend because he’d been one of the best players on the team at the time. Unfortunately, Jacob had been more interested in getting his hands up my skirt, and he’d found it annoying that this kid, almost ten years our junior, would hide from us behind the first thing he could find and only make himself known by giggling before running away, knowing full well I would follow him.

After Mom and Dad died, and Jacob had sent me his breakup email, Tate had changed his whole perspective on Jacob, and the hero worship had turned into a deep loathing. Every time Tate’s classmates had brought up Jacob’s name as the best player the school had ever seen, Tate would snort and get his punishment for his insubordination by doing laps. All for his big sister’s honor. This was the very reason I had to be the one to tell him what was coming. The season may have ended for the Bulldogs, but that didn’t mean practice was over. They would bring in Jacob as soon as they could so the team would get used to him long before the new season started, and with the MC at his back, Tate was having a harder time keeping his opinion to himself these days.

To sweeten Tate up a little, I’d brought him and Libby burgers, fries, and one of Janette’s apple pies, with a tub of vanilla bean ice cream for dessert. He was always a little more cooperative with a full stomach—so were most of The Hut’s inhabitants, come to think of it. I found him and Libby in the room that had been set aside for me. I let them, as well as Sloane and the twins, in there to do homework and watch TV. I’d bought him a new video gaming system for Christmas, which he had hooked up as well.

“Hungry?” I asked, swinging around the doorframe with the bag of food dangling from one finger. Drew had gone to sort something out before he came to help me try to explain how we were going to handle this, so I was on my own for now.

“Always,” Tate said, glancing over his shoulder at me. He had the game controller in his hands and his forearms balanced on his knees as he played. Libby was on her stomach on the bed next to him, half-heartedly reading some fashion magazine that was barely holding her interest. Pressing the menu button that called a map to the screen, he made a grabby hand at the bag of food, his big frame no longer fitting his youthful face as he grinned up at me. “Come on, sis, don’t hold out on me. I smell the apple pie from here.”

Libby laughed, rolling to her side and propping her head up with one hand, her smile bright. After the incident at the warehouse, the two of them had been on rocky ground for a while, but they’d pushed through their differences, made up, and though she hated him spending time with Sloane, she never complained aloud. Sloane had needed a friend, and that was all Tate had been for her.

I dropped the bag of food on the bed between them and stole the controller, ignoring the emphatic complaints that I would mess up his game as I sank to one of the huge cushions at the foot of the bed and pressed the pause button to continue the mission.

Needless to say, I was a terrible game driver. I think I crashed more than I drove. Poor pedestrians were darting from my path of chaos as I turned left then right—ruining the car Tate called his beast. The virtual vehicle was a huge pickup that looked a little like the one I now owned.

“Do me a favor: park it in my garage and pick a slow banger, A.”

“Where is it?”

“Pull up the map.” I did as I was told and waited. “See that orange house thing?”

I went to the green one.

“No. Orange, A.”

I took the cursor to the blue one, silently laughing at his growled frustration.

“O-Range.”

“Oh. You said orange.”

Libby laughed out loud, apologizing but not laughing any less when I was sure Tate was glaring at her for siding with me. I made a waypoint on the map and made sure to hit every stationary object on the way there… until the controller was plucked from my hands by Drew who was shaking his head in sympathy.

“What are you doing?” I reached for the controller, but he had the hunk of plastic way out of my reach. “It’s still my turn.”

“I can’t watch any more of that driving. It’s like being in the car with you for real. Scary.” His eyes widened as he grinned his cocky half-grin at me and held the controller out for Tate to take back.

“Spoilsport. You’re just jealous of my mad skills.” I grinned up at him before tugging on his cut in a request for him to help me up from my perch on the cushions.

He pulled me up using no effort at all, his free hand curling around my waist the way it always did as he pulled me into his side. Two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle fitting together perfectly every single time.

“You fed the beast?” Drew asked me before he turned to look at Tate.

I grinned up at him, my hands closing around the open sides of his cut as I met his gaze. “He still has to eat his apple pie, but he’s mostly fed.”

I asked him silently if he thought we should start the talk now, or let Tate finish eating first. There were just some things about men I’d never been able to figure out, and having an insight helped when I would have otherwise dived in and blurted the news out with a cringe.

Drew’s hand slid to my ass cheek, giving it a playful yet slightly painful pinch, his eyes still on Tate as his smile grew.

“Tate, Ayda wants to talk to you about your new football coach who we met in the diner earlier and happens to be a total prick.”

And I thought I was blunt.

Patting Drew’s chest in thanks, I rolled my head in Tate’s direction and pressed my lips together. “Do you know who they hired?”

Tate looked up at me and shrugged. “Not like they’re going to consult us about it. Is he a hard ass or something?” He stuffed more fries into his mouth and looked between Drew and me.

“There’s no easy way to say this so… It’s Jacob,” I said, leaning into Drew just to absorb some of his body heat.

“Fuck. No.” Tate growled, dropping his burger into the takeout box and sitting up from his slouch. “Then I’m quitting the team.”

“Hounds don’t quit,” Drew said calmly, his voice somehow commanding everyone’s attention despite how quietly he’d spoken.

“Drew, I ain’t—”

“Yes, you are.”

“He’s right, Tate,” I responded. “He’s not going to win, and we’re not going to let him fuck with you. First sign of benching you, pushing you too hard, even looking at you the wrong way, and I will be getting his ass fired.”

Tate looked between Drew and me, his eyes wide and waiting. “I don’t understand how this has happened.”

Drew sighed softly. “I’d put money on him coming back to Babylon to rattle Ayda’s cage more than anything else. Unfortunately for you, that puts you in the firing line. I’ve seen you there before, Tate, and I know you can handle it. You’re more of a man than that di—” Drew stopped himself and cleared his throat. “Than that idiot.”

“The stray that lives out back of the Roller Freeze is more of a man than that asshole, Drew,” Tate followed, pushing his food away.

“Hey,” I said, trying to calm him down. “I know this sucks. Believe me, he’s already been more of a dickhead than Kenny manages to be in six months.”

“It’s a natural state,” Tate mumbled, leaning against Libby and shaking his head in disgust. “There’s no way in hell he’d call a college scout out for me when the time comes. I’m screwed.”

“You think we’d let that happen?” I asked.

“You think he won’t try to screw me over?” Tate snapped back.

“If he does, we’ll handle it,” Drew muttered quietly.

“What?” Tate said through a shitty sigh. “You got college scouts on your books now, Drew? You can hook my entire future and football career up for me just by throwing some cash at some guy in another state?”

Drew pulled away from me and sighed. I knew what was coming. For all he thought he was terrible at playing this role in Tate’s life, he always seemed to know when to step in, and he worked on natural instincts I’d never had to teach him. He was a father of so many men, even brothers who were old enough to be a generation more experienced than him. Dealing with Tate was second nature to Drew. I just hadn’t the heart to tell him when he was so convinced he sucked at it. He was cute when he was unsure—a rarity for a man like him.

Scratching the back of his head, Drew tossed the food in front of Tate out of the way, grabbed my brother by the hand, and forced him to stand.

It was always a weird contrast. Strong, rough, determined and experienced facing almost strong, potential to be rough, definitely determined, but absolutely no experience whatsoever.

Drew straightened his spine, pushed his chest out, grabbed both Tate’s biceps and looked down on him.

“Quit whining.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“So the world has thrown you a curveball. Welcome to the real world, kid. Shit happens. But you want the truth, here it is: I have no worries about you or your future, ‘cause when I look at you, I see a kid who makes shit happen in his life, whether he believes in himself or not. Last year, a snot-nosed brat walked into my home, hid under my bed, and tried to steal money from my club in order to save his sister. Do you remember that?” Drew asked, raising a brow at him.

“Vaguely,” Tate muttered, his face setting to stone before his chin dropped to his chest.

“That kid was a year weaker than you are right now. He’d suffered some shit, yeah—a lot of shit, actually. But he had no idea what he was about to face and how much his life was going to be tipped upside down.”

“Drew, I—”

Drew’s hands gripped Tate’s arms tighter, his knees bending until they were both eye to eye. “That kid had the courage of ten thousand Jacob Hoves. That kid had brass balls to waltz into the lions’ den and try to steal from them, so don’t tell me you can’t go out there, play your heart out, and steal your future from anyone else’s hands. Don’t you stand here and stutter in front of me and tell me or Ayda that you can’t handle this motherfucking weasel who’s trying to rattle both your cages.” He paused, keeping his eyes on Tate as he mumbled at me, “Sorry, Ayda.”

I smiled, not acknowledging his apology for swearing, or interrupting his talk with Tate.

“I will have your back. Ayda will have your back. Every single man out there in that Hut will have your back. You know why?”

Tate cleared his throat and shuffled from one foot to the other before he clenched his jaw and shook his head once, raising his chin.

“Because you are a Hound now. You may not have the patch on your chest, but you’re a part of this family. This family rides and dies as one, and we stick together like glue. If Jacob gives you shit out on the field, you suck it up, or you choose to handle it. That’s up to you. I ain’t here to tell you to be a good boy. Lord knows I can’t preach to anyone. But if you have a shitty day out there in Babylon, when you come home, we’ll be here waiting to make it better. The world ain’t easy, Tate. You’re gonna get a million Jacobs try to piss you the fuck off in life, especially if you do get the patch on your chest one day. I can’t think of a better person for you to handle than that fucking runt.”

“He’s right, Tate. The only damage Jacob can do is what you allow him to. None of us are going to sit back and let him run you down and bench you. You’re the best player on a small Texas team. You think anyone in this town will let him get away with that? He pushes you, you push back.”

“I know I have some power here. I also know all y’all will have my back, but there’s only so much we can do until I get suspended for disrespect. Jacob used to be someone on this team.”

“Believe me, he could never have kept up with you, even when he was your age,” I said, pushing up onto my tiptoes to ruffle his hair. “Play your best and play your hardest. He comes down hard on you for no reason and we’ll get that shit sorted out. He’s not going to get in the way of your scholarships. I won’t let him.”

Tate looked between Drew and I before nodding, one of his hands rising to squeeze the back of his neck. Even Libby looked relieved when he blew all the air from his lungs and squared his shoulders.

“Hound for life,” he mumbled quietly, his big body swaying as Drew slapped his arm and released him.

I hoped to hell that we could keep our word on this. Tate had worked so hard on the field—on and off-season—to keep himself as fit and ready as he could. Even some of the Hounds had taken to working out with him most days, running a couple of miles in the mornings. Since the season had ended, some of them rode to the stadium in the evenings to play with him. Everyone seemed to understand just how much it meant to me—and Tate—to see him follow this dream through before he followed the dream of becoming a Hound.

Taking a deep breath, I nodded and smiled at him before I turned my attention back to Drew.

He pushed both hands into his jeans’ pockets, giving me that almost smile he was famous for—the one that said so many things to me without saying a word at all. I could tell even he was kinda proud of the way we’d both handled the situation with Tate.

“Hound for life,” Drew repeated quietly, nodding Tate’s way even though his eyes were on me.

“For life,” I mouthed at Drew and held his gaze for a moment longer before turning my eyes to my kid brother. “When do you think they’ll bring him in?”

“If he’s already accepted, they’ll probably ease him in to work with coach until the end of the school year. He may take over full-time before then if he’s comfortable.”

“He’s the most arrogant son of a bitch I know,” I said, rolling my eyes. “So it will be sooner rather than later. His pride won’t stand by and let him take orders from coach for too long. He’ll learn the ropes and push him out.”

“This is gonna suck,” Tate grumbled, dropping to the bed and reaching behind him to where Libby was now pressing herself against his back in support.

“We’re all going to be here to back you up,” Libby said, grinning up at me. “I’m pretty sure we can do some damage without lifting a damn finger.”

Drew hissed as he sucked in a breath, cringing and scrunching his eyes up before he turned back to face Tate. “Speaking of damage…”

Tate and Libby both looked up at Drew, their eyes wide and waiting.

“May as well lay all our shit down while we’re dishing out the bad news.” Drew blew out a breath and raised his brows, rocking back on his feet. “I may have already lifted a finger.” He paused. “Or five. Hard. Against Jacob’s head. Smashing it down onto the counter at Rusty’s. Pretty much cutting off his air supply for a good few minutes.”

Tate’s eyes widened even farther, his teeth grinding together as he studied Drew’s face.

“Bit of a miscommunication kinda thing.” Drew shook his head, feigning breeziness. “Sure he’ll have forgotten it already.”

I laughed casually and leaned my head against Drew’s shoulder. “Jacob baited everyone in that diner, and I wouldn’t put it past him to try the same with you, Tate. He’s going to use me, Drew, Libby, and the whole damn club to try and get a reaction from you, but you can’t bite. You react first—you lay a single finger on him, and you’re off the team. It’s a zero-tolerance team and he’ll know it. He starts with that shit, you walk away. I don’t care what he says to provoke you. You got me?”

Tate’s eyes widened, his fingers running along Libby’s arm where it was hung casually over his shoulder. I could tell he wanted to argue, that he wanted to be the one to shut Jacob up, but he also knew I was right. If he lifted one finger in anger to Jacob, his football career would be over. The only other option would be to move so he could attend another district, and that was just impossible.

“Walk away?” he parroted. “A, I know how bad he can be. You know what he was like when I was a kid. When you weren’t around…” He shook his head. ”It doesn’t matter, does it? He’s screwed me.”

“No. I don’t care how it looks. He gives you a hard time, you come to Drew or me.”

Drew pulled a hand out of his pocket, balling it into a fist and holding it in the air with a smirk plastered on his face. “Happy to miscommunicate a bit more if I have to. But you won’t need me to. You’re going to show him you don’t care. If he tries to talk bad about me, you don’t care. If he bad mouths Ayda, you don’t care. It takes the power away from him. You take away that power and people like him have nothing. Not a single thing.” Drew pulled on the edges of his cut, rolling his shoulders before he turned to look at me. “Now I think I should get out of here before I say something I shouldn’t. Things are going pretty well. I don’t want to be the guy who shoves his foot in his mouth. Time for you to take over, darlin’.” He winked.

With a small nod of thanks, I whispered the words I love you after he kissed my temple and backed toward the door, leaving Tate, Libby, and I alone again. Before the mood became too somber, I play punched Tate in the shoulder Libby wasn’t occupying and smiled down at him.

“Could be worse,” I said.

“How do you figure?”

I smiled and grabbed for the controller he’d dropped on the bed behind him. “Jacob could have been a complete angel with not a mark to his name. I have a lot of history on that man that will make good ammunition if we need to use it.”

“Like what?”

I smiled and sank down to the cushions again, folding my legs under me. “You two eat, I’ll talk.”