Page 20 of Scored

“What the hell?” Fin asked, his focus on Grant. Shutting the door behind him, he walked within inches of my cousin. His voice was a low growl as tendons bulged in his neck. Despite his arm in a sling, Fin looked threatening. “Why are you yelling at Vee?”

Fin stood a good six inches taller than my cousin as well as broader.

Grant defiantly lifted his chin. “I’m leaving.”

Fin remained silent with his jaw clenched.

When Grant reached for the door, he turned my way. “Call her. Or expect the good detective to show up at your place or here.”

Clenching my teeth, I remained standing.

After the door closed and Grant was gone, I reached for a pencil from my desk and snapped it in two. “Ugh.”

“What the fuck was that about?” Fin asked as he pointed at my door. “They could hear the two of you out in the outer office.”

Walking around my desk, I wrapped my left arm around Fin’s torso and gently laid my right hand on his sore shoulder. “You first. What did Lacy Reynolds say about your shoulder?”

Tension eased from his muscles.

“She said to keep it immobilized for a week. Next Monday they’ll do another MRI. If it shows improvement in the muscles and ligaments, I’ll be cleared for light practice.”

I let out a long breath. “No IR?”

“It’s not set, but it’s looking good. I should be cleared to play by the divisional round. He reached for my chin and lifted it. “Now, tell me about Grant Marsh.”

“I’d rather go home.”

Fin kissed my nose. “Then home it is.”

CHAPTER 8

Vee

Leaving Maker’s Mark, I gazed around the parking lot illuminated by tall lights, the cold crystalizing in halos around each one. The dusting of snow from earlier sparkled like tiny diamonds. As Fin drove us home, I recounted my conversation with Grant. I didn’t leave out a sordid detail. I even confessed that I’d contacted Det. Oldson yesterday morning.

I shook my head.

It seemed like more time had passed.

Fin listened, his knuckles blanching as he tightened his grip of the steering wheel. “I was ready to deck him when I entered your office.”

My lips curled with a memory. “That might have affected your scholarship.”

He turned with a grin. “Only you can make light of your cousin yelling at and threatening you.”

“I’m not making light. I’m choosing happiness.”

“If I punched out Grant Marsh, who would have final say on cutting me from the team?”

Humming, I joked, “Let me enjoy that vision for a moment.”

“Grant or his father? Coach Tilson?”

I inhaled. “Final say would be me.”

His grin was back.

I continued. “But all the people you mentioned would be involved. As much as I love and appreciate the idea of you standing up for me, physically attacking anyone isn’t recommended. Besides, I’ve dealt with Grant my whole life. He doesn’t scare me.”