Teasing: Chapter 23

I choose violence. From the first down until the clock runs out.

—Maverick’s Secret Thoughts

With the sun beating down and the crowd filing in, I run my hand over the turf like I do before every game. One minute to remind myself how fucking grateful I am to be here, on this field, playing this game.

There’s no better high than taking in Kings Stadium on game day.

Seventy thousand people filling it—screaming for their team.

My team.

This is why I do what I do.

Why I lift year-round.

Why I run when I’m tired.

Why I eat what they tell me to when I’d rather starve than shovel that shit in most days.

Because days like today, I get to be a gladiator, and this is my coliseum.

I suck in a lung full of the humid late summer air and look for Ryker.

Everyone is heading off the field for the locker room when I find him. I grab his head and make sure he can read my lips. “You good?”

“Yeah. I’m good.” It’s his first pro game. He’s not going to admit it, but he’s freaking out. We all do it.

“Harness that energy, brother. Don’t let it control you. Never let them forget who the fuck you are.”

His whole body vibrates with energy ready to spend, and for half a fucking second, I see the little kid he was when we played peewee ball. “You’re a goddamned Beneventi. This game is in your fucking blood. This team is your fucking family. Never forget it.” I press my head to his. “So ready to be on that field with you.”

Ryker pounds my shoulders with a crazy fucking grin. “Legacy, right?”

“Our fucking legacy.”

Declan walks into the locker room as the team gets into the zone.

Some guys use music, others wear noise-canceling headphones to block it all out.

I walk around my defensive line, hyping them up, making sure they’re good. So fucking ready to make today’s team my bitch.

We’re a little on edge, hoping Camden and the new offensive line fall into a groove that works today, after a rough week at practice. But our defense is ready to carry the weight if we need to. We are not losing this game.

Declan stands in the center of the room and waits for silence without uttering a word. He doesn’t need to. His presence alone demands we listen. Commands our respect. And once he’s got it, a slow, borderline-maniacal grin slides into place.

“You feel that, gentlemen?” No one answers. “It’s the privilege of pressure. A million men would give their left nut to swap places with you, but they can’t. They’re not you. They’re not as strong. Or as fast. Or as tough as you.”

He looks around his coaching staff, a silent conversation passing between them. “They haven’t spent their lives honing their bodies to be weapons of war. And don’t doubt for a second that you’re not going to war this season—because you are. Seventeen battles wait for you, and the first one starts today.”

He locks eyes with me, and I know what he’s saying.

I’m the only returning captain setting foot on that field today.

“Remember what I said at the start of camp? We’re everyone’s championship game. We’re the measuring stick they use to prove their worth. Don’t let them be worthy. The target on our backs is painted in neon, and it’s big. But it’s still up to you. This game—this season—they’re yours to win or yours to lose. You’re bigger. You’re better. You’re stronger. Because you are fucking Kings.”

A roar works its way through the team as excitement and determination settle deep in my bones.

“And what do Kings do?” he hollers into the room.

“Kings build legacies,” we all yell back, echoing Coach Joe Sinclair’s mantra that’s become a team-defining chant.

“It’s time for you to decide what you want this legacy to be. And it starts with winning this .”

Emmie

I will not geek out.

I. Will. Not. Geek. Out.

With Rosie’s hand in mine and matching Kings jerseys and VIP lanyards hanging from our necks, we’re escorted into the Kingston family’s private box suite for the very first game of the season, and I’m not sure who is more excited. Me or Rosie. My fear of geeking out is seriously messing with me, and walking into the suite and having Sebastian Beneventi be the first one to see us doesn’t help me at all.

Screw Vivi. Dad is never going to believe this.

“Grandpop,” Rosie squeals and throws herself at him as if she hadn’t just spent the night at his house. Bash catches her in his strong arms, and if the resemblance between him and Maverick⁠—

“It’s uncanny, isn’t it?” Lenny asks as she moves beside me, reading my mind.

“The resemblance?” I ask, and she nods. “It really is. Maverick certainly looks like his father.”

“He does. I didn’t have a thing to do with that one. Ryker takes after me though, so at least I got one.” Her shoulder brushes mine, and she laughs. “Relax, Emmie. We won’t bite. I promise.”

“Yeah. Lenny stopped biting a few years ago,” a beautiful woman adds, and my breath gets stuck in my throat.

Lenny glares at her sister, and Scarlet Kingston-St. James just laughs.

I’m standing in front of the president of the Philadelphia Kings.

Umm . . . holy crap.

“Maverick warned me we’re supposed to be on our best behavior,” Lenny scolds her sister.

“Why?” Scarlet laughs, then turns to me. “If you’re going to be around for more than a game, you’re going to find out the truth soon enough. And if Maverick asked you to be here with us and Rosie, you’re going to be around more than just a game. You might as well know now, there is no such thing as well-behaved in this family. We gave up on it a long time ago.”

My heart races, and I try to act like this isn’t all too much.

“See the senator over there?” She points toward a handsome man talking to a beautiful woman. Good lord, these people are all stunning. “He’s the biggest idiot of all of us. And somehow, the people of Pennsylvania voted him into office anyway.” She hands me a glass of wine and smiles a perfectly painted crimson smile. “So sit and tell me about yourself, Ms. Monroe. And feel free to start with how I should expect that brother of yours to do today as my starting quarterback.”

I slide the wine glass onto the bar and look around for Rosie, who’s already sitting on Bash’s hip, probably telling anyone who will listen about Sparkles, the pony Bash and Lenny gave her last night.

She’s safe and happy over there, and I’m being grilled by yet another one of Maverick’s family members.

Oh great.

Okay . . . I can do this.

I lift my glass and smile back at Scarlet. Mine is a little less perfect. “My brother is going to be the best quarterback you’ve ever had.”

“Those are seriously impressive words, considering Declan Sinclair was our quarterback for over twenty years, and that man is still regarded as the best quarterback in league history.” She looks past me, through the glass window overlooking the field, a challenge in her eye. “Camden hasn’t had the most impressive few years.”

“I know what the past few years have been like for him, and I know why.” I don’t tell her why. That’s not my story to tell. “And I’m telling you, he’s going to be the best you ever had.”

I don’t back down, and Lenny whistles while Scarlet waits to see if I justify my words.

I don’t. I don’t need to. He’ll prove them for me. I know he will.

Faith is a funny thing.

Eventually, Scarlet’s eyes sparkle with excitement. “I like you, Emmie. Where have you been hiding?”

“I’ve been in school for a few years. I’m finishing my master’s in psychology,” I tell her with pride in my voice.

Scarlet looks at Lenny, and it’s as if they have a silent conversation. The kind Vivi and I have when we don’t want Dad to hear us. “Have you ever thought about sports psychology?”

I don’t tell her I hadn’t thought about any type of psychology because that would mean planning for a future I wasn’t sure I was going to have.

Instead, I sip my wine and smile and decide to think about it.

“Looks like I may have underestimated your brother, after all,” Scarlet tells me as the last few seconds of the third quarter run down. The Kings are up 21–0, and Maverick and Camden are both on fire. Mav’s had two sacks in three quarters, and Camden ran in two touchdowns and threw for the third.

“Everyone does,” I muse and run my hand over Rosie’s head as she leans against me.

“Emmie, I’m hungry.” The excitement of the day is wearing on my girl and wearing her out.

“Then let’s see what they’ve got for you to eat, my little rose.”

Scarlet bends down in front of Rosie, all smiles and softness in stark contrast to the woman the world sees. “Every single thing on the table is Rosie-approved food, sweet girl. We made sure of it. Even the cookies.”

“Thank you, Auntie Scarlet.” Rosie kisses her cheek and squeezes my hand.

We check out the beautiful spread laid out in silver chafing dishes and three-tiered cookie trays, and Rosie’s eyes grow wide with the options. “Can I just have a cookie, please?”

I stop the waiter just to double-check. “There are no nuts or wheat or dairy in these, right?”

“No, ma’am.” He looks down at Rosie. “Everything is safe for your daughter to eat.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, shocked by his words but not scared in the way I would have been a few months ago. I pick up a plastic plate and pile on a few types of cookies for Rosie, who’s grown quiet. “Are you okay?”

She nods but doesn’t say anything as we grab two water bottles and sit back down in the chairs on the other side of the glass in the private box outside of the suite.

I hand her the plate and wrap my arm around her small shoulders. “Did what he say upset you? Because I promise you, I will never try to take your mom’s place.”

Her lower lip wobbles, and my heart cracks. “What if I want you to? What if it’s your place? You do all the mommy things. And you love me like a mommy does.”

“Oh, baby girl.” I pull her against me and rest my cheek on her soft hair as I fight back a tear. This little girl has stolen the thing I didn’t know I’d ever be able to give to anyone. “I do love you, and I will always be here for you.”

“Do you promise?” she asks, and the little girl in me, who never quite healed from the loss of my own mother leaving us, gets it. Abandonment issues run deep and strong and, for some of us, last a lifetime.

So I do the one thing I didn’t know I’d be capable of doing.

I promise.

I pull back and look at her sweet face. “Of course I promise. And I never ever break my promises.”

“Just like Daddy?”

As if conjuring him from her mind alone, the crowd erupts, and the commentators cheer. “Did you see that? Maverick Beneventi just got a third sack. That’s unbelievable. This Kings defense is on fire today.”

“Yeah, baby. Just like Daddy.” I pull her onto my lap and point out Mav below us, and we both cheer.

Rosie takes a bite of her cookie, and I kiss her head. “I bet your daddy is playing so well because he knows you’re watching him.”

I push her hair out of her face, and my heart stops cold.

Rosie’s eyes are huge and scared.

“Rosie?”

She blinks, scared.

“Rosie?”

She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

Oh my God.

Her tiny hand drops the cookie and moves to her throat soundlessly, and suddenly, I know—I just know.

“Call the ambulance,” I scream at anyone who will listen as she slumps against me.

No. Absolutely not.

I gather her in my arms, refusing to give in to the terror gripping me, and run inside the suite to where my bag is.

“What’s happening?” Lenny screams as Bash moves in next to me.

“Move, Emmie.” He rests his head on her chest, and I toss my bag upside down and grab the green pen.

“Call an ambulance,” I yell again and don’t wait to see if anyone is listening.

I pop the lid of the EpiPen and push up her white tulle skirt, tuning out the noise around me.

Blue to the sky. Orange to the thigh.

I whisper the words over and over again.

A sacred chant, repeating them in my head as Bash moves out of my way.

He says something, but it doesn’t register.

I’m too focused on her.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” I whisper as I slam the pen into her tiny thigh, and a blood-curdling sob rips from my throat.

But she doesn’t move.

She doesn’t breathe.

Bash rests his ear over her lips to listen but must not hear what he wants because he starts breathing for her.

He tilts her head and breathes, then listens again before repeating it again.

This is not happening.

I grab the second pen and say a silent prayer this works as I find her other leg and slam it into her thigh.

“Where’s the ambulance?” I scream.

“The medics will be here any second,” someone says as Lenny cries and Bash continues breathing for Rosie.

Her lips are an inhuman shade of blue. So dark they seem almost purple.

I don’t know what I need to do, but I need to do something.

“Are there any more pens?” I ask anyone who can hear me before I grab Scarlet. “Did Maverick send a pen for the suite?”

Lenny’s head snaps my way. “My bag. Get my bag,” she screams.

Someone dumps her bag in front of us, and we push everything around until Bash finds the third pen.

“Is it too much?” Lenny asks, tears staining her face.

“It doesn’t matter. She needs it.” He presses it into Rosie’s leg, and the door of the suite crashes open as two medics rush in.

The first man moves Bash out of the way, and the other one takes over. He presses an oxygen mask over Rosie’s face and squeezes in time to a silent rhythm, but I don’t see her chest rise at all.

It’s not getting in.

“I’m a doctor,” Bash tells them as they pick our little girl up and lay her on a stretcher. She’s limp, and her lips are no longer the only thing turning blue.

No.

This can’t be happening.

I watch in slow-motion, horrified as the medic tosses the oxygen bag to the floor and pulls out a clear tube and attempts to get it into her throat.

“Let me try,” the other medic rushes over, but Bash shoves them both out of the way. “Sir, you can’t⁠—”

“Fucking watch me,” he snaps, then tries to do what the medic couldn’t.

Terror like I’ve never known seizes me as reality sets in, and I realize what’s happening.

Her throat is swollen shut.

They can’t get the breathing tube in because there’s no room.

“Bash,” Lenny screams and grabs my hand, and we cling to each other for more heartbeats than I can count.

“It’s in,” Bash breathes out, tears now streaming down his face. “It’s in.”

The medic buckles her poor little body to the stretcher, and they push her out of the room.

“Who’s the next of kin? We can take two with us,” they announce.

Bash grabs Lenny’s hand, and I refuse to let go of the other.

She’s not going anywhere without me.

“Only two will—” the medic begins to argue, and Lenny shoves me forward.

“Go with them. I’ll stay here for Maverick.” She kisses Bash and pushes us both through the door.

“What happened?” Bash asks as we jog behind the medics and into the ambulance.

“She ate a cookie,” I whisper, wondering if this is my fault.

“Scarlet and the waiter both confirmed they were safe. No nuts.” I manage to tell him through my tears as we take off for the hospital.

“She’s allergic to nuts? I need specifics,” the medic tells us as he works on keeping Rosie alive.

“Peanuts are the worst,” I tell him as Bash fills him in on everything else.

The medic takes a note. “Cross contamination is unfortunately more common than most people realize. They could have been peanut free, but if her allergy is bad enough, it only would have taken someone touching peanuts and then the food if her allergy is severe enough.”

Bash’s eyes never leave Rosie’s face. “It is.”

I watch her chest move with each breath being pumped into her by a tube and want to scream. Her hand is cold in mine, and I refuse to let go. “I’m here,” I whisper and bring her it to my lips. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere, Rosie.”