I survive practice, and the guys are all smiles again in the locker room. Honestly, I expected worse. But when I return from the shower, I see that they weren’t quite done. I sigh and turn to the locker room, where the guys are very conspicuously quiet. “I got the message,” I announce. “Loud and clear. Now, where are my clothes?” No one looks at me. But there are quiet snickers, and a few guys are suddenly very interested in their phones. Only Van steps up in front of me, arms crossed over his tattooed chest. “And what’s the message?” “If I do anything to mess with Parker—” “Anything at all.”
