“You broke Jax’s nose?”
I blink. “How the hell do you know about that?”
“I have people.”
I snort, shaking my head as I ease through the intersection. “You havepeople? People in my locker room? Who the fuck do you have on my team feeding you intel?”
“Down, boy,” she says flatly. “It’s just Beck.”
Of courseit’s Beck.
She continues, smug as hell because she knows it pisses me off—whatever little fake flirting situation they have going on, “I had to get a quote from him for the paper in my journalism class.”
I groan and irritation courses through me. The two of them love to tease me, but God help Beck if heactuallymakes a move on Sloane. “Remind me to tell Beck to keep his hands off my baby sister.”
“Ew, no. Hockey guys arenotmy type.”
I chuckle. “Good. Keep it that way.”
She huffs like I’m ridiculous for even suggesting it. I continue, “Okay, okay. What’s up, Sloane?”
“Want to bring me food?”
I glance at the clock on my dash. Ten-forty-seven p.m.
“Where are you?”
“The library. Studying.Starving.”
Of course she is. I rub a hand over my jaw, debating whether or not I should give her shit for this.
I don’t. The big brother in me absolutely loves that my sister is on campus nearby where I can look out for her.
“Fine. Text me what you want, you little genius.”
She lets out a victorious, “Thank you! I love you!”
I shake my head, but can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. “Yeah, yeah. Love you, too.”
She hangs up, and I take the next exit toward campus. I don’t begrudge Sloane for having the childhood I wish I had. I’m glad she does. There were a lot of years I was a little shit to her out of jealousy.
Especially after weekends with my dad.
I’d come home from two days of tiptoeing around an angry drunk, only to see Mom and Paul shuttling Sloane off to debate clubs and speech competitions, celebrating her wins with ice cream and family dinners. I know Mom hated sending me back to him, knowing what he was like—but the courts didn’t give a damn. Every time she tried to change visitation, my dad cleaned upjustenough to fool the judge, painting her as dramatic and unreasonable.
There was nothing we could do, not until I turned eighteen.
After I left the house, I made a conscious effort to connect more with Sloane. I only have one sibling, and I was going to be damned if my dad took my relationship with her away from me too.
I pick up her food from the only open Taco Bell in the area and park in the lot next to the U of C library. I don’t want her walking out in the dark, so I grab her bag of tacos and walk in.
Sloane really is a genius. She’s a journalism major with a full ride at U of C, to absolutely no one’s surprise. She’s been arguing and debating with all of us from the second she could talk. Straight-A student with not a single athletic bone in her body.
It’s still hilarious to me that her journalism professor is a massive Wolverines fan. He’s always sending students to shadow the team, covering our season like it’s breaking news. I rest easy knowing Sloane will grab quick quotes from the team here and there for her assignments, but she’d rather die than have to shadow the Wolverines for the entire semester. She’s happy to cheer me on, but only in the way that says,Well, if that’s all you can do.
She is my best reality check.
I see her near a front window, head buried in her laptop, a giant textbook open next to her. Her dark brown hair is tied up in a messy bun, her U of C hoodie oversized on her small frame. I flick her in the ear when she doesn’t immediately notice me walk up beside her, and plop down on the couch next to her.