Rush (Eligible Receivers #3)

Prologue

A bead of sweat ran down Lincoln Scott’s temple, hitting the corner of his eye to mix with the single tear that fell as his sister and brother-in-law’s caskets were lowered into the ground. It was a good twenty degrees warmer here in Dallas, where his sister was being laid to rest, than in Portland, the city Linc now called home, and the black suit he wore added to his discomfort. As did the tie, which strangled him and made it hard to swallow.

Or maybe the huge lump in his throat was the culprit.

The beautiful, sunny day made a mockery of the storm that raged inside of him. Grief was a sharp blade in his chest, straight through the heart, ripping him apart. His sister had meant the world to him. And their close relationship hadn’t changed despite the fact they hadn’t seen each other as much in the past six years since he’d gone pro with the Portland Phantoms. Only eighteen months apart in age, they’d often been mistaken for twins, both ending up with golden eyes from their Latin mother and with their father’s distinct Ethiopian bone structure. Though Linc was the youngest, he’d always been bigger. Natalie had always been smarter. Their mom had called them the dynamic duo. Between Nat’s brains and his brawn, there hadn’t been a scrape they couldn’t escape from unscathed. Through good times and bad, they’d always been there for each other.

And he was here for her.

One last time.

The small hand currently wrapped around his pinky tightened into a squeeze and Linc looked down, taking solace that a part of his sister still remained. Sophie—Natalie and Jake’s four-year-old little girl. His niece.

With her head bowed, she stared at the tips of her black, patent-leather shoes poking from the hem of her frilly, pink dress. A dress she’d insisted on wearing, clinging to it with tears brimming her eyes until Linc had finally given in. He helped her put it on even though it was a party dress and where they were going was the farthest thing from a party. After, he did her hair. Or gave it his best effort, corralling her frizzy curls into a ponytail at the top of her head. It ended up lopsided, but once he’d added the pink ribbon and tied it in a bow it’d been hard to tell. Sophie seemed happy with it, so he considered it a job well done.

Staring at the black poof of curls now, he watched the tip of the ribbon flutter in the barely existent breeze. Sophie’s little shoulders were hunched and her grip on his pinky never slackened. But she wasn’t crying.

She also hadn’t uttered a word since Linc had arrived a week ago.

A hand landed on his shoulder. He knew it belonged to his team’s manager who’d stood behind him throughout the service. Patrick had flown in that morning to lend his support as a representative of the team. Linc did appreciate the gesture, but at the moment, he was mostly numb to anything other than the sorrow and anger burning in his gut. He didn’t have room for any other emotion. Not while he watched his sister disappear into the earth. In an instant two lives had been lost and a family destroyed in a pile of twisted metal. Where was the fairness in that?

Another trickle of sweat fell down his cheek. Hell, he should just admit it was a tear. He wasn’t trying to be a tough guy—not crying for the sake of his image, knowing there was probably media lurking in the background—he’d just thought he was all used up. Emotionally.

Or maybe he was just fucking tired.

Tired of feeling so much emotion.

Crushing grief. Grief and anger that had gripped him with a single, earth-shattering phone call and had yet to ease.

People around him started shifting, but he stood in place. He wasn’t ready to leave. Wasn’t ready to face whatever would happen next. He moved his gaze back to the little girl at his side. To the small hand that still clutched his finger so tightly its tiny knuckles stood out in relief from a pudgy fist. He was responsible for her now. He was the only family left who gave a shit about her. His mom and dad had been gone a few years now, and Jake’s parents, hell, Linc didn’t even know. He did know they’d been informed of his death but hadn’t called the house in the whole week Linc had been staying there, nor were they here for the funeral.

The hand on his shoulder squeezed, gaining his attention. “Linc?”

He turned his head to look behind him.

Patrick wore a somber expression. “Ready?”

Linc glanced back toward where the twin caskets had been, now in the ground.

Was he ready? Fuck, he didn’t think so but knew he had to be. Sophie needed him.

And, to be honest, he needed her too.