Chapter 50 "This way, Ms. Walker," one of the Twisters security guards says as he escorts us up a wide flight of stairs. I'm currently surrounded by huge men in black polo shirts-not just Marco, G, and Jaime but at least half a dozen guys from stadium security as well. I'm tempted to tell them it's overkill, but the last thing I want is for something to happen that interferes with the game. So I just follow along with my mouth shut as I try to soak in as much of the experience as possible while encased on all sides by men who outweigh me by at least a hundred pounds each. The stadium looks so different in the day, when my giant-ass stage isn't in the middle of the football field and everyone's dressed in T-shirts and jerseys instead of glitter and punk. I like it, though. It feels real, like Sly. I've never been to a pro football game before-I've never been to any football game before, pro or otherwise-and I look around, fascinated by the foam fingers and painted faces. By the time I got to high school, I was doing online classes, fitting credits in around filming and promoting the show and eventually my burgeoning music career. Though I didn't date the high school quarterback, I did date the guy who played him on another show that filmed in our lot. Hayden Jeffries-smooth, gorgeous, beloved, and troubled as fuck. Apparently, I have a type. Or, at least, I used to. Now I'm the troubled one and Sly's the good guy with the heart of gold. And unlike the other two men I've had relationships with, what the public sees is actually what they get with him. Not for the first time, I wonder what the fuck Sly sees in me. Girls like me rarely get the good guys, and when we do, it's because they turn out to be anything but. Experience has definitely taught me that much. But Sly's not like Hayden or Jarrod-at least not in any ways that matter. I know it hasn't been that long, but we've gotten to know each other pretty well, and there haven't been any cracks in the facade. Nothing to make me pump the brakes or run in the other direction. And I've been looking really, really hard for reasons. Considering I've spent the past decade watching the other shoe drop, him being so perfect is particularly nerve-racking. But also not, because I'm finally beginning to think maybe I won't have to run. Maybe we actually have a chance. He must feel the same way, or he wouldn't be inviting me into his world like this. Not just to see him play but to meet his family. Since my mother fucked off, and even before it if I'm being honest, Pauline, Bianca, Marco, and Jace are pretty much my only family. And Sly's only met one of them, despite the fact that we've been in my world every time we've met so far. If today goes well, maybe it's time to change that. I can't believe I'm even thinking about this. I can only imagine what Pauline is going to say. We turn another corner behind three of the Twisters' security guards, and I glance over at Marco, only to find him grinning widely at me. "What?" I ask, immediately suspicious. Marco is a lot of things when he's on duty, but a grinner isn't one of them. And this is the second time I've caught him smiling at me today. "It's good to see you happy." "I'm not happy." The words are a knee-jerk reaction. If life has taught me nothing else, it's definitely shown me that bad things come when I'm happy. "I'm just excited to see my first football game." "Oh, is that what you're excited about?" His brows lift. "Yes." To hide the sudden burn in my cheeks, I bury my head in the bouquet of flowers Sly gave me. "Football is interesting." The look he gives me tells me he knows exactly what I find so interesting about the game. But before either of us can say anything more, someone shouts my name from behind us. Instinct has me turning around-just in time to have someone grab a deer-in-the-headlights pic of me. Damn it, I know better. "How about a smile, Sloane?" The camera keeps clicking. "Are you worried about something happening to Sly on the field today? Or do you already have a plot picked out for him next to Jarrod? Maybe a matching headstone?" The words hit like boulders instead of the typical rocks, and for a second I want nothing more than to sink into myself. To let Marco and the others hustle me away, like they're so desperately trying to do. But bullies love it when you run. Besides, running didn't get me where I am now. It sure as hell didn't get me Sly. So instead of letting the security guards usher me away, I dig in. Give the paparazzi my wickedest Black Widow grin. And say, "Thanks, but I plan on keeping Sly very much alive. You know how I like to play with my food." To top it off, I blow the jerk the best femme fatale kiss I can manage. Only then do I let Marco and the others steer me away. I wait for Marco to chew me out for making myself a target, but he just shoots me an approving look. As do G and Jaime. That, more than anything else, gives me the strength to brush off the not-so-pleasant interaction as we stop about thirty feet later in front of the fourth door in the hallway. "This is your box," the guard at the front says gruffly-Vince, I think Marco said his name was. "Thank you, Vince." I smile at him and the others and-because this is Sly's place of business-I hold out a hand for him to shake. Behind me, I can feel Marco stiffen in surprise, but I force myself to go through with that handshake and five more with all the other security guards. Like with Sly's friends earlier, it's not as bad as I expected it to be. Not pleasant but not nearly as awful as usual. Maybe it's because I know they won't hurt me. Or maybe it's that I'm learning how to trust people again. Not just Sly but Marco and G and Bianca and Jace. People who have had my back for years, even when I struggled to see just how many people I care about also care about me. "I'll have two of my guys stationed outside this door," Vince tells Marco and me. "If Ms. Walker wants to leave the box for any reason, we can call for backup. Otherwise, I'll return at halftime with several security guards and then again at the end of the game." He smiles at me. "Enjoy." I smile my thanks before putting on my best poker face as one of the other stadium guards pulls open the door to the suite. My attention immediately falls on the people already inside. Sly's family. For a second, they all stare at me in surprise, like they're shocked I'm actually here. But then abuela Ximena struggles to her feet. "Sloane! You made it!" "I did," I tell her, and much to my own shock, I'm the one who initiates a hug. She feels safe, like Sly does, albeit in a much different way. "How are you?" "Great, now that you're here! I've been telling the girls for months how much I enjoyed meeting you. I can't wait til we can have you out for dinner en la casa." "I can't wait to come." I smile at Sly's sisters, trying to figure out from his descriptions who is who. The tall one who looks the most like him is the baby, Mariana. She's still in high school, wants to go to UT, and is the one who painted his nails to practice for the school play. The short brunette with the nose ring is Camila. She's in her last year of college and wants to move to L.A. as soon as she graduates. And the wispy one with the huge smile is Lucia. We exchange greetings and much more uncomfortable hugs-they all seem just as kind as their brother and grandmother, though Camila has a definite edge to her, which I can appreciate. Especially when her greeting is a quick dip of the chin instead of an embrace. Besides, whatever attitude she's giving me is nothing compared to what Sly's agent is dishing out. Which might be understandable, considering some of the press he got after our date in L.A., but also feels strange coming from a woman who looks more like Cinderella than a big, bad sports agent. The light-blue sundress she's wearing only adds to the image, as does the way her blond hair is scraped back into an elegant chignon at the base of her neck. At least until she holds out a hand for me to shake and the very defined muscles in her arms grow even more pronounced as she squeezes my hand so hard I can feel the tendons rub together. Under normal circumstances, I'd pull back with a pithy comment or two, but there's a challenge in her dark-green eyes that has me staying exactly where I am. Plus, this is Sly's agent. I figure she's got the right to take a shot or two. At least until she gives me a smile so sweet it makes my toes curl in dread and says, "It's so nice to meet the troublemaker who keeps getting Sly into hot water." 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