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up like your mom.”
    She sucked in a breath, stomach twisting. “That’s not fair. Or the same situation by any stretch of the imagination.” Her dad had been a football player in college on scholarship. Until he’d gotten her mom pregnant, decided to do the right thing, and married her. Then bailed six-ish years later. Her mom didn’t like to talk about it. Amelia had always wondered if it was resentment over losing any chance to go pro that had killed their marriage and made him run. She knew her mom never liked it when she’d dated jocks in high school. And she’d made damned sure Amelia had had all the sex ed and birth control a girl could want.
    “I’m just saying. Hell, Milly. I know these guys.”
    “Because they’re like you?”
    “Maybe.” He winced as he shifted on the sofa, and her mood softened a little. But not completely.
    “It doesn’t matter what Oliver is like, I’m not trying to date him. So stop changing the subject. I know you don’t like him, but he’s on your team. And he’s been there a lot longer than you have. He’s a senior player and you’re new. Don’t screw things up. You told me he’s tight with the owners, right?”
    “Yeah, well, because Maggie Winters used to sleep with him, back when dinosaurs roamed the earth,” Finn said.
    Oliver had dated Maggie Winters? That information shouldn’t give her a pang in the chest, but it did. “All the more reason not to piss him off. You don’t want to get on the wrong side of your bosses,” she said a little more sharply than she had intended. She took a breath, tried to soften her tone. “Look, Finn, the Saints are a good shot for you. Their fortunes seem to be on the rise. The smart thing to do would be to see if you can catch a ride along with them.”
    “You’re an expert on baseball now?” he snapped.
    No, but she was pretty good on the ways Finn liked to screw things up. “I just think—”
    “Milly, you need to get this straight. The only thing that I’m interested in when it comes to Shields is the fact that he’s out of action. Because that gives me an opportunity. And I’m going to take it. So don’t expect me to be sitting in his hospital room being buddies. We’re not friends. We never have been. He’s been in my way all season—and rubbed my nose in it—and now he’s out of it.” He looked at her, scowling still. “Hell, don’t look like that. I didn’t want this to happen to him but it has. So I’m going to take my shot. You can bet your ass he would if our positions were reversed. He’s had fifteen years in the spotlight. Now it’s my turn.”
    She actually couldn’t speak for a moment. Hell, she’d known Finn could be single-minded about baseball. It came with the talent, she supposed, that driven kind of focus to get where he wanted to go. But she’d never seen him be so cold-blooded about it. Even if Finn didn’t get along with Oliver, being so ruthlessly determined to take his place was … well, pretty crappy, actually. Still, there was no point trying to talk sense to him when he was in this mood. Instead she stood and picked up her stuff. “Look, I have to get back to work, and your head must hurt. I’m going to go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” She waited. Hoping he’d say something even vaguely apologetic.
    He didn’t respond, just lay back on the sofa and reached for the video game controller. And in that moment, she decided she wasn’t going to be having such an early night after all.
    *   *   *
    His hand hurt like a son of a bitch. Oliver shifted himself back up the hospital bed, which only set off an answering throb in his bandaged ankle, and hid his wince. He’d spent the last two days since his surgery half stoned on morphine but was determined to make do without it today.
    Which wasn’t improving his mood any.
    But fuck, he had a right to be pissed. He was missing the play-offs. Might miss the start of the next season.
    All because Finn fucking Castro