“She goes by Sloane, Dad.” Bow placed her big blue eyes upon her dad, and something told me she was a complete daddy’s girl the way the large man tilted his head at her.
“Sloane, then,” he said, then directed a hand toward Bow. His eyes crinkled softly at her. “Sorry about that, baby girl.”
She merely laughed in response, but then, the man frowned.
He pointed. “Rules still stand about the boys, though,” he said. He left the room on a laugh to himself, and Bow lifted her eyes again.
“Sorry about him,” she said. “I’m honestly surprised he didn’t bring my god dads up here with him if he thought I had a boy in here.” She stopped when my eyes narrowed. She laughed. “Wells’s and Dorian’s dads. They’re all around here someplace. Tonight’s poker night for them. I’m sure they’ll all eat whatever we don’t.”
She chuckled on the end there, and my jaw freaking dropped. I put my hand out. “Wait. The dads of Wells and…” I paused, frowning. “Dorian are your godfathers?”
She shrugged that off, casual about it. She nodded. “Mmhmm. They’ve all known each other since they were kids. Ares’s dad too. Though, he’s not my god dad. All our parents are good friends, though.”
But god dad status? What the fuck? But then, Bow got up. She went to a pushpin board above her computer desk that had a bunch of photos and stuff on it. She plucked one, then gave it to me. “That’s them. They all used to play lacrosse together at Windsor Prep.”
I stared at the photo, five guys in total. If she hadn’t told me these were the dads, I would have thought they were the kids. They were the spitting image of the boys who’d come to hurricane through my life since I arrived.
Bow pointed them out. “Wells’s dad and Dorian’s dad,” she said, pointing to a guy with cropped hair, then a blond respectively. Her finger touched the biggest guy in the photo. “Thatcher’s and my dad.”
Definitely him, Thatcher’s twin. Their dad stood next to the tallest guy, a lacrosse stick on his arm. Seriously, this tall guy had to be Ares’s dad.
“Ares’s dad, Ramses,” Bow confirmed.
I scanned the photo of the five. There was a tall blond guy in the middle with long hair. “This guy?”
“Oh, that’s LJ, my third and final god dad.” She took the photo. “He doesn’t have kids, but he’s just as protective. I’m the only girl amongst the kids, so all my godfathers tend to hover.”
My gaze circulated the photo, stopping on who she stated was Dorian’s dad. As with the rest of the crew, he was Dorian’s clone. He was the only one not smiling in the photo, though, and Dorian most certainly didn’t mind flashing his dark grin. I think he did that on purpose, the expression simply simmering with cruel venom.
I wet my lips. “You said this is Dorian’s dad?” I asked, and she nodded. “Did Dorian’s mom go to Windsor Prep too?”
I asked casually, and again, she acknowledged that.
“Their names are Royal and December,” she announced, and they certainly were regal names. Fitting, I supposed. She placed the photo down, and I watched when she picked up her book. She obviously wanted to get started on tonight’s homework, but I certainly had more questions. If their families really were that close, she’d most definitely know a lot about the Prinzes.
And I wanted to know as much as possible.
Chapter Fifteen
Dorian
“Good work today, man.” I’d give credit where credit was due, taking Bruno Sloane’s hand. I shook, then snapped it after practice. “Good hustle today.”
The kid was actually pretty decent on the field. He kept up with us, and what had started as a way to get under his sister’s skin, might actually turn out in Windsor Prep’s favor. At least, when it came to football. The kid was fast, strong, and caught everything I threw at him.
He could stand a good chance at becoming quarterback next year after I left, and where Thatcher and Wells might disagree with that (they’d always been aiming for the spot), they may not mind. They were getting along with the kid too. I always saw them talking with him, in the hallways and at lunch and shit. The three’s teamwork on the field was impeccable, and something told me I wasn’t the only one who didn’t completely hate the kid.
Even if I wanted to.
My hate was obviously reserved for his sister, but it was harder to pass off to her brother, who actually took direction and did so humbly, respectfully. It was easy to want to treat him as an equal. He was a genuinely nice guy and did enjoy the game. Most people around here looked at me and the other Legacy guys as gods, completely enamored and were a bunch of follower fucks. Bru was more of a leader, though, which was rare with all this alpha shit running around on the field.
“Thanks, man,” Bru said, and like stated, humble. It sucked I was trying to drive him out of this town, but he was a casualty. Noa Sloane was still in my fucking way, and we hadn’t managed to break her yet. She was around, still in the way, and didn’t seem any closer to leaving.
I apparently wasn’t laboring hard enough, but in the meantime, we at least had a good player on the field. I slapped Bru’s back in the locker room, letting him go. He left
the locker room, but Wolf caught our exchange as he’d been coming out the showers. He had a towel cinched at his waist, the other drying all that crazy hair.
“Don’t get too fucking attached,” he grumbled, tossing the towel he’d been using for his hair. He opened his locker. “Kid has a target on his head.”