Chapter 24 #2
Slowly—too slowly—I turn. And there he is. Micah Brannigan, standing ten feet away like he didn’t just step straight out of a part of my life I’ve spent years trying to bury.
He looks the same. Older, maybe. A little broader, but the same smug set to his mouth. The same eyes that used to look at me like I belonged to him. Like I was his toy to play with and discard at his pleasure. My stomach twists so hard I think I might be sick.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, glancing up and down the hallway in hopes someone, anyone, will save me from this inevitable hell I’m standing in.
“I work here,” he proclaims proudly as if he’s one of the millionaire players on the team.
As if.
I almost laugh but bite the inside of my cheek to restrain myself. “Oh, you’re on the team?”
His shit-eating grin falls just slightly.
“Equipment manager. I go where the team goes.” His eyes rake up and down my body in a way that makes my skin crawl.
“And what are you doing here? I know you like football but never expected to see you…wait…” His gaze narrows and then flicks briefly to the closed exam room door behind me.
Understanding clicks and his smile grows like the fucking Grinch who just stole Christmas from all of Whoville.
God, that smile. I wish I could tear it off his fucking pretentious face. “Ah,” he says, nodding slowly. “That makes more sense.”
My heart starts pounding too fast for my comfort.
“You always did have a type,” he continues, taking a step closer. “Or maybe you just never learned.”
“Don’t,” I say quickly, my voice low. Controlled. “Not here.”
His brows lift slightly, amused. “Relax,” he murmurs. “I’m just catching up with an old friend.”
Friend my ass.
We are not catching up.
Every instinct in my body is screaming at me to leave. To run. To get as far away from him as possible. But I don’t move. I can’t. Because Shepherd is right behind those doors and I promised him I would be here when he’s done.
Micah’s eyes crawl over me like insects.
“You look…softer,” he says, lips curling.
“Playing the wholesome girlfriend now? That’s new.
” He flicks at my hoodie sleeve. “Haynes must be desperate if he’s settling for this covered-up version.
What happened to those tight little tops you used to pour yourself into?
The ones that made your tits look like they were begging to be grabbed? ”
My nails break skin in my palms. “I’m not doing this with you.”
He huffs a laugh, breath hot and sour. “Like you ever had a say in what we did.”
The words land like knuckles to my temple. The hallway spins, edges blurring.
No.
No, not here.
I anchor myself against the cold wall. My breathing ragged against the door behind me. “Get out of my face,” I manage.
He steps closer, close enough that I can smell last night’s whiskey seeping through his pores. He’s not touching me, but he has me cornered, trapped, like an animal waiting for the killing blow.
Will he grab me?
Shove me?
Force his hands where they don’t belong?
Make me remember?
“I swear to Christ, Micah, put one finger on me and I’ll scream until security drags you out by your fucking throat.”
He chuckles, lips nearly brushing my ear. “Honey, you’re in my house now. You really think anyone here will listen to you? Believe you?” He laughs deep and throaty and I hate it. “You really think this quarterback’s different? They’re all animals in heat, Sutton. You’re just fresh meat.”
My throat closes. “No, that was just you. Shepherd is nothing like—”
“Please,” Micah hisses, voice like a blade.
“A guy like that? He sees you as a wet hole to dump himself into after a game. Something tight to pound until he feels like a man again.” He cocks his head, studying my face, his eyes narrowing.
“What was it I used to call you? Oh, right…perfectly fuckable.”
Each word lands like acid on exposed skin.
“Does he know about us?” His breath is hot on my neck. “About how you used to beg?”
“There was never an us,” I spit. “And if there was begging, it was to get you to stop.”
“So, he doesn’t know how I broke you in? How I made you my little cum-hungry bitch until you learned to say thank you?”
The air leaves my lungs in a violent rush. My vision tunnels, narrowing to Micah’s sneering face. His words scrape against my skin like rusty nails, tearing open scars I’ve spent years trying to heal.
“Get away from me,” I whisper, but the words come out weak, pathetic. Just like before. Just like always.
“You think he respects you?” Micah presses closer, invading every inch of space around me. “You think he sees anything but an easy fuck? Someone to service him after games? That’s all you’ve ever been good for, Sutton. All you’ll ever be—”
The exam room door swings open behind me, and I nearly collapse with relief.
“Sutton?” Shepherd’s voice cuts through the fog of panic clouding my brain. “Everything okay out here?”
I turn to see him standing in the doorway, his expression shifting from tired to concerned to something darker as his eyes move from my face to Micah.
“Everything’s fine,” I say quickly, stepping toward Shepherd and away from Micah. My voice sounds strange even to my own ears. Too high. Too tight. Too brittle.
Shepherd moves immediately to my side, his body positioning itself between me and Micah with such casual precision it almost looks accidental. But I know better. I feel the tension radiating from him, the protective energy that surrounds me like a shield.
“Brannigan,” Shepherd says, his voice neutral but with an edge I’ve never heard before. “Something I can help you with?”
Micah’s smile shifts into a calculated grin as he takes a small step back. “Just catching up with an old friend, Haynes. No need to get territorial.”
Shepherd doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch, but his posture changes. He becomes more solid somehow, more immovable. “Funny, she doesn’t look like she’s enjoying the conversation.
“You okay?” Shepherd asks me quietly, his eyes never leaving Micah.
I nod, unable to trust my voice. My throat feels raw, like I’ve been screaming for hours even though I haven’t made a sound.
“We’re done here,” Shepherd says to Micah, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Micah’s face darkens, but his smile remains fixed in place like a mask that doesn’t quite fit. “Of course we are.” He looks me up and down one more time. “For now.”
My stomach twists into knots as he turns and walks away, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. “Good game, Haynes!”
Oh, my God, I feel like I might throw up. The world around me seems too bright and too loud, and I can’t catch my breath.
“Sutton.” Shepherd’s voice cuts through the fog. His hands hover near my shoulders, not quite touching me. “What was that? What did he say to you?”
I shake my head, not wanting to form words in fear that I’ll vomit all over the place. “Nothing. It’s…it’s fine. What did they say?” I ask, turning the conversation back to him.
“Bruised ribs. I’m out the next game but I’ll be fine.” He cups my face in his warm hands. “Are you sure you’re okay? Brannigan can be a real douche. Did he say anything to you? Because I swear to God, I’ve wanted to pound his—”
“No. It’s fine, Shepherd,” I lie. “Let’s get you home.”
Shepherd’s eyes search my face, his concern evident in the slight furrow between his brows.
I can feel him trying to read me, to see past the wall I’ve hastily constructed.
But I can’t let him in right now. If I do, everything might come spilling out, and I’m not ready for that.
Not here. Not with Micah’s presence still lingering in the air like a toxic cloud.
“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice low. “Because you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
That’s exactly what it felt like. A ghost from my past materializing in the one place I thought was safe. The irony isn’t lost on me.
“I’m fine,” I insist, forcing a smile that feels brittle even to me. “Just worried about you.”
He hesitates, clearly not buying it, but mercifully doesn’t push. Instead, he nods, wincing at the movement. “Yeah, okay. Let me get dressed and grab my stuff. I’ll shower at home.”
As we make our way through the stadium’s back corridors, I can’t shake the feeling of Micah’s eyes on me, his words slithering through my mind on repeat.
“They’re all animals in heat, Sutton. You’re just fresh meat.”
“That’s all you’ve ever been good for, Sutton. All you’ll ever be”
What if he’s right? If Micah works with the team like he says he does, he probably sees and hears more than I ever would.
What if he notices all the women who hang out with the players?
What if he knows for a fact that’s how Shepherd plays?
What if he’s seen all the women Shepherd has been with?
Why would he pick me, anyway? I have nothing to offer him.
Hell, he even put me up in his guest house and for what? A couple of fucks?
Oh God…
No.
He wouldn’t…
Would he?
Fuck.
What if…
What if Micah and Shepherd are playing the same game…together?