56. Kieran
56
KIERAN
I scream the second I step out of her building. The few people that are on the street look over in fear before rushing away. Probably the wisest decision they’ve made all day.
Unable to stand still, I take off toward my abandoned car, but I don’t stop when I get to it. I can’t. I need to move. I need to burn off some of this anger.
I drag my hand down my face.
Some of the things I said were a low blow, I know that.
They were mean and unfair.
But it’s too late now. I’ve said them.
The damage is done.
Just like it was when she got caught with Brax.
Pain slices through my chest again as I think about those images.
I didn’t react in the car with Jamie when I found them. Well, not outwardly. Inside, I was a fucking mess.
And it really didn’t help when we got stuck on the freeway because of an accident.
Everything inside me, all the reasons I never wanted to get involved with a woman, all the bullshit I’ve ever seen my teammates go through over the years bubbled up inside me until I could barely contain it.
The second he dropped me off, I was sprinting to my apartment for my keys so I could go and confront her.
I didn’t give myself even a second to try and think rationally. I was too far gone.
The damage had been done. The pain had been caused.
All I could think about was telling her that I knew.
As I pace back and forth, the anger barely lessens.
Watching her stand up for herself should have been hot.
She doesn’t do it very often.
It should probably also have been a sign that I needed to tone it down.
But I couldn’t. I was fueled by nothing but anger and bitter disappointment.
How could she do that to me?
All the air rushes from my lungs.
I’d convinced myself that she wanted the same thing as me. All week, I’ve told myself that we’re on the same page.
How fucking stupid was I?
This is exactly why I don’t do serious. It comes with too much drama and heartache.
When I’m confident I can drive without plowing my car straight into the nearest building, I pull the door open and take a step to get in. But before I do, I look back at the main entrance.
If she weren’t guilty, wouldn’t she have run after me? Pleaded her innocence?
My eyes roll up the building to her penthouse windows, but I don’t stand a chance of seeing anything from down here.
With my heart feeling like it’s lost a fight with a meat tenderizer, I finally drop into my car and take off.
I swear, I leave the final whole pieces of it behind.
I realized a few things this week. Not only am I in love with Effie, but I’m pretty sure I have been for a very, very long time.
She’s always been the one. The first person I’ve wanted to tell when things go well, the person I want to confide in when shit goes wrong. No matter what happens, she’s the one I want next to me.
And then when things escalated in St. Louis, I didn’t realize how much I enjoyed falling asleep with her and then waking up the next day with her in my arms.
I certainly knew how much I missed it when I got back here without her.
My apartment doesn’t feel like home anymore. My bed is lonely.
Everything is fucking lonely.
Even when I’ve been with my brothers, my teammates, something is missing.
I thought this was going to be our time. That we could start over together.
My mom and Grams have been pointing us in the right direction for years. We just couldn’t see it.
Well, now I can.
I can see it clear as fucking day, and one of my best friends has ruined it for me.
I always suspected there could be more between them, but I’d convinced myself that it was just in my head.
How fucking wrong I was.
She just told you that nothing is going on , a little voice whispers in my head, but I dismiss it.
I don’t need a reason or answers right now.
I just need action.
I pull up at the stadium only minutes later and swing my car in next to Brax’s.
As soon as I step out, I crack my knuckles.
Fuck, I need this.
I don’t pay attention to who else is here.
After letting myself into the building, I make a beeline to the gym.
Everyone is under the impression that all we do is party and go on vacation during the off-season, but that couldn’t be further from the truth for most of us. It’s Friday night, and I guarantee that there will be more than a few guys here working out.
I walk down the red and black hallways that have always meant so much to me.
As a little boy, all I dreamed of was playing for the Chiefs. They’ve always been my team.
The day I got drafted from college was the best fucking day of my life.
I’ve worked my ass off every day since to prove myself worthy of this team. Worthy of my position.
My palms slam on the double doors, swinging them wide open and announcing my arrival to anyone who isn’t lost in their own little world.
Easton Brooks, our quarterback, is the only one who looks up from the weights bench.
“Callahan?” he questions, a deep V forming between his brows as he studies me.
But it’s not him I came here for.
Ripping my eyes away from him, I scan the rest of the equipment, searching for the asshole who’s ruined everything for me.
I find him on a treadmill, his AirPods in and totally unaware that anyone else has entered the gym.
I storm forward, uncaring about everyone else in here witnessing what’s about to go down.
The very moment I’m in reaching distance, I twist my fingers in the back of his sweat-damp shirt and drag him backward off the machine.
His legs go in different directions and he scrambles to stay upright while trying to work out what the fuck is happening.
Shoving him to the floor, I loom over him, giving him just a second to predict what’s coming next.
“Kieran, what the?—”
“You fucking asshole. How long?” I bellow. “How long have you been fucking her?”
Before he has a chance to get a word out, I drag him to his feet and throw my fist into his face.
The second it connects, pain radiates from my knuckles and up my arm. But instead of lessening my anger, it feeds it.
No sooner have I pulled my arm back, I get ready to go again.
It doesn’t matter that he’s back on the floor, that he’s at a disadvantage. I’m blind to everything but what he’s taken from me.
The one thing in my life I care about more than anything. I lunge forward to take another swing, but a large pair of hands grip my upper arms and drag me back.
“That’s enough,” Easton barks as two other guys rush toward Brax to help him up.
“I’m fine,” he mutters, shaking them off and dabbing his cut brow with his hand. Then, he looks up at me. But there isn’t anger or irritation in his eyes like there should be. Instead, there’s understanding and compassion, and I hate him even more because of it.
“How could you?” I bark, refusing to fully acknowledge what his expression is telling me.
I don’t want to believe anything but what those photos showed, the story they told.
“Bro, you’re a fucking idiot.”
“That’s not gonna help,” one of the guys beside him mutters.
“It doesn’t matter,” Brax says, lifting his shirt and wiping sweat and blood from his face. “Motherfucker will believe what he wants to believe.”
I surge forward in the hope Easton has loosened his grip, but I’m bitterly disappointed.
“I know what I saw,” I seethe.
“Yeah? And I know the truth.” I sneer at him. “We’ll talk,” he states before swiping his towel from the machine. “But not like this. Go home, Kieran.”
Without another word, and without looking back, he marches from the gym.
It takes long seconds before Easton finally lets me shrug out of his grip.
“The fuck, Callahan?” he demands once he’s stepped in front of me.
“Fuck off,” I grunt, not willing to get into it with him.
His lips flatten and his nostrils flare.
“You do not get to come in here throwing punches and think you can walk out again like nothing happened,” he warns.
Easton is a fucking killer quarterback and a fantastic captain.
I respect the fuck out of him both on and off the field, but right now, I barely have any respect for myself, let alone anyone else.
“You need to start talking.”
“I don’t need to do anything,” I shoot back, my anger kicking up a notch again.
As soon as I step into his space, he lifts his hands and shoves me hard in the chest.
“Back the fuck down,” he warns.
“Come on, man,” Jamie says, having appeared at some point during our standoff.
“Fine,” I huff, aware that I sound like a petulant toddler, before I turn my back on them and storm away.