Bryson sighs and crosses his arms, standing back as I gradually practice shots and maneuvers with Delmar. “I know it’s none of my business…” he begins in a tone that lets me know he’s about to bring up Florida again.
“Then why talk about it?” I grumble.
“It’ll be good for you, Ru. Clearly, you’re passionate about polo. Why not make it a career?”
“I already have a career,” I muse. “Besides, I’m happy here. I like the area.”
“More like the breeders,” Bryson grumbles. I glare over at him, daring him to say more. He’s been hanging around this week and has witnessed me texting her quite a bit, and I’m not ashamed of her so I haven’t hidden it or my budding feelings from him. “I don’t get what you see in her. She’s poor and fat.”
“Please tell me you didn’t just say what I thought I heard you say,” I huff. “Family or not, you’re treading on thin ice right now.”
He makes a bunch of half-finished, stuttering noises as he searches for the words. “Those are like, the two least attractive things in a potential partner and you know it. You’re way out of her league! Being with her is like a backshot.”
That is fucking it.
Even from horseback, I reach down and grab him by the collar, seething just to keep myself in balance. I try to tell myself that if I damage him, my sister will never forgive me, but it’s not easy. So I settle for lifting him from the floor. Seeing his feet dangling as he tries to squirm out of my grip has its own satisfaction.
“If you weren’t family, I wouldn’t give you a second chance, you little shit. A backshot backhand swing is one of the most basic, strategic moves for playing offense. If my opponent is nearing a goal and I manage a backshot, then I am going in the right direction. So yeah, fucker, Luce is a backshot. The best kind of backshot. The kind that nobody saw coming but wins the day. She’s kind, sweet, awkward and adorable. And she’s a real woman, not one of your entitled little girlfriends. One day, I hope you learn just how sexy that is.”
His face scrunches and his arms cross as I finally let him down. “I’m only trying to look out for you. I think Florida would be good for you for many reasons—”
“If any of them were good enough, don’t you think I would already be there?” I snap at him. “My priorities are my health, my philanthropy efforts here, and being kind. You should be learning a thing or two from me, rather than trying to tell me how to live my life.”
“You’re wasting your talent here,” he inserts sulkily.
“And you’re wasting your breath with this conversation,” I retort, narrowing my eyes more. “By the way, you’re wrong. You want to know the least attractive qualities in a human being? Being entitled and judgmental. And if you intend on being those things, then go get lost. Luce will be here soon.”
With that, I kick Delmar lightly to take me across the field. Bryson doesn’t seem to get the gravity of not wanting to be around the place where you first started your addiction. And I can’t help but shake the feeling he has a personal vendetta for wanting me to go to Florida. I’m guessing he wants to move with me and attempt to have a life in the style of a permanent vacation. Whereas here in Virginia, he’s expected to work at the family business or go to school.
I can empathize with his wild youth, as I’ve been there myself. But I’ve never insulted people and tried to manipulate those close to me to try and get what I wanted. Then again, maybe I have… I wasn’t myself in the throes of my addiction.
Trying to push it from my mind, I run drills on my own for the next little while. I know it’s getting close to time when I see a small crowd gathering at the fence to the field. My vision pans over to try and spot Luce. However, before I can find her, I spot the last person I want to see right now. Even less than Bryson.
Josh Anders is trotting over on horseback, wearing all of his gear and a smirk. My jaw sets in place and I close the distance between us and stop Delmar next to him. “What in the fuck are you doing here?”
“Ron couldn’t make it,” Anders informs me. “I told him I would go in his place.”
“You aren’t supposed to be allowed into the club. Not until your investigation is finished,” I hiss.
He shrugs and his smirk deepens. “Your girlfriend didn’t want to report to the police. Management figured that it wasn’t that serious then. Are you going to play or not?”