Page 81 of Heart of Thorns

Fine.

I suppress my scoff of disbelief and slowly lower her so her feet touch the ground again. The boots we picked are sensible, at least. Nothing high-heeled—no doubt her knee would protest that, even if it would be sexy as fuck.

Still, I keep my hand on the small of her back when we face my parents.

“Good game, sweetheart,” my mother says. She comes in close.

I lean down and let her press her lips to my cheek. It’s been a while since she was able to reach without assistance. She’s shorter than Briar by at least four inches, and the points of her heels sinking into the grass don’t help.

“Son.”

Dad extends his hand, and I shake it. His grip is always crushing, but this time it seems even more so. He squeezes hard, and I get a glimpse of the anger in his expression.

So he hasn’t calmed down any since our phone call the other week.

Lovely.

“We have reservations in an hour,” he adds. “We’ll meet you out front.”

“Of course.” My fingers tense on Briar’s back. “I’ve got to get changed. Walk with me?”

She glances up at me and nods. I lead her away, stopping only twice for reporters followed by cameramen.

I give run-of-the-mill, media-training answers, and then they let us pass.

“Is it always this hectic?” Briar asks in the tunnel. She keeps glancing around like someone’s going to jump out and grab her.

“What? Yeah, I guess.” I drop my hand from her back. “Are you okay?”

“Of course.”

“You—”

“Thorne!”

I pause and glance back. Stephen McDowell jogs toward us, only slowing when he’s even with Briar and me.

“Nice throw to win it,” he says. “Our defense was sweating when they made that field goal.”

I lift my shoulder. “It happens.”

Stephen eyes Briar. “You escorting your girlfriend to the locker room?”

I force a laugh and shake my head. “No, just giving her an escape route from my parents.”

He sticks his hand out. “Stephen.”

Friends with your slimy ex, I almost say. Patterson has done a good job at avoiding me—and, I think, Briar. At least, she hasn’t said anything else about him showing up or running into her.

“Briar.” She shakes his hand, then quickly withdraws. She wraps her arms around her stomach and stares straight ahead.

“I’ll see you around,” I tell Stephen.

A clearget the fuck out of here.

He takes the hint and hurries on, while I slip my fingers around Briar’s arm and stop her. I press her against the wall and plant my forearm next to her head, leaning in.

“You’re jumpy, kitten.”