Why did everyone think Morrison was the only person in the world with any cash? Because he rubbed it in their faces constantly? We weren’t all tacky assholes. And fifteen thousand dollars wasn’t that much money. It was well spent in this case, anyway.

“Would it help or not?” If it did, maybe they could hang on and sell the house in the new year. “Or do you need more?”

“I mean, yeah. Fifteen would help.” Derek shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of accepting it.

“Okay,” I said. “See if you can get them to take it.”

“Where am I supposed to pretend I got it from?”

“Say you borrowed it from a friend. Or hit it big at the casino.” I shrugged. “Tell them you won a fucking beauty pageant. I don’t care. That’s for you to figure out.”

He actually had the nerve to glare at me. I glared back. Why were we having a pissing match over this?

“What’s the alternative here?” I gestured with one hand. “Come on.”

In the end, he might shoot me down, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try.

“If you’re going to help, I think you should tell Bailey,” he said. “It’s only right.”

Irritation sparked within me, and I clamped down on the urge to argue with Derek about what was right—like standing up for one’s sister to a monster. Right now, my priority was the money. Arguing with Derek over Morrison wouldn’t help get him on my side.

“Why? So she can say no?” I raised my eyebrows, waiting, but he didn’t have a comeback to offer.

There was a weighty pause.

“Look,” I said. “I’m going to lend you some money. Between us. Whatever you do with it after that is your business. Pay me back whenever you can. No rush.”

His light brown eyebrows went wide. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious. I can send you a transfer later today.”

“Fine.” Derek sighed, looking away briefly. “But this doesn’t mean we’re good. I’m doing it for my sister.”

“And so am I. Give me your email address and banking information.” I unlocked my phone and handed it to him over the table. He took it from my hands, tapping at the screen and handing it back to me with a sour look on his face.

“I’ll send it when I get home.”

“Thanks,” he said.

45. the dirtiest

CHAPTER 45

THE DIRTIEST

Chase

What a bullshit call.

Eleven minutes into the second period against the Coastal U Sharks, I stepped into the penalty box. Serving two minutes in the sin bin. For what? Nothing. Gardiner hooked me on a breakaway, and somehow, I ended up with the penalty. Fuck that decision, and I not so politely told the refs as much. Then Miller reamed me out for beaking off to the officials.

Whatever.