Chapter 31 Camden
CAMDEN
The aftermath was worse than the actual fight itself. But you wouldn’t know it from the way every hissed insult and punch landed, according to the angle of the video that made sure our little wrestling match would be immortalized on the web for all eternity.
Erik and I had been dragged apart by Thad Reise, our kicker, and Josiah Beck, a defensive back, along with two stadium attendants.
The O-line coach all but carried us to Coach Roberts’s office by the scruff of our necks like we were the misbehaving kittens of an impatient cat, hanging out of her mouth.
Not unsurprisingly, Roberts ripped us a new one. Tore our heads clean off and then shoved them up our asses. Then ordered us to “figure your shit out before you lose this season for everyone.”
Erik took it stoically, not saying a word, then left with a single nod.
Me, on the other hand? I felt like I had to say something.
“Coach, it wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“My quarterback and my tight end fighting in the halls is not that big of a deal?”
“It won’t affect our play, I mean.”
He plunked down in his chair like he suddenly couldn’t stand another second.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He scrubbed his hands over his face before meeting my gaze, disappointment wafting off him in such big waves that it threatened to knock me over.
“I’ve been down this road with you before, and quite frankly, I can’t trust you when you say it won’t affect your play. ”
“I—”
Coach shook his head, pointing to the door.
“Talk to Pearce, get your shit in order, and don’t come back until whatever is going on between you and Rivera is put to bed.
” Then he reached into one of his desk drawers to retrieve a bottle of Tums and chewed a few pills, mumbling, “Close the door on your way out.”
So I left and closed the door on my way out, yet again at the center of a mess. The problem child. The Founders’ fuckup.
Now, I open my door to Malcolm, whose shoulders rise and fall on a deep breath like he’s tired already.
Same, bro.
I gesture for him to enter, and I lead him to the living room where Nadine’s reading on her iPad. She’s mostly been ignoring texts and phone calls from her family, all of them attempting to understand what’s going on, but at this point, neither one of us knows.
I expected Erik to be pissed when I eventually had the conversation with him about Nadine and me, but I did not at all expect the level of anger. I know he’s upset we lied, I know he feels betrayed by me, I get it.
And yet, I wasn’t going to let him talk to Nadine the way he did.
You want to call me names? Been there, done that.
But no one, not even a member of her family, will say a word against her.
I acted without thinking.
Although, if I’d given it another minute, I probably would have caught him in the chin, no matter what.
He had it coming.
Maybe it had to come to a head. We never actually talked about last year and the Bowl game. We never had any conversations about how he felt about me, and knowing him, he didn’t want to. All of his peace and love chi didn’t want to rock the boat, especially after my parents died.
My best friend, the saint.
Well. That’s done now, I suppose.
It’s what he shouted at me as Beck towed him off me. We’re done.
“Have a seat,” I tell Malcolm, gesturing to the other couch while I move Nadine’s feet, positioning them in my lap, holding on to them so she doesn’t move. I want both of us to be as comfortable as possible for this conversation, which I know will be very uncomfortable.
“Hello, Nadine. How are you?” Malcolm asks after removing his long winter coat, and she offers him a half smile.
“I’m okay.”
He nods then shifts his attention to me. “I know I don’t have to ask you, but I will anyway. How are you?”
I reply with the fakest, widest smile I’ve got. “Grand.”
“Your charm will not save you with this one.” He wiggles his cell phone in front of him. “This wasn’t an accident or a mistake. That punch you threw had purpose behind it, so I’m here to know why.”
I glance to Nadine, finding her eyes cast down, fingers toying with the edge of the blanket.
“Riv?”
She lifts one shoulder, shaking her head slightly, mumbling, “Tell him, I guess.”
I reach for her hand, brushing my thumb over her ring. “Nadine and I are together, and we didn’t tell Erik. He saw us and lost it. I punched him because of the way he was talking to Nadine. Doesn’t matter that he’s my best friend, brother, teammate, or whatever. It’s not okay.”
Malcolm exhales a noisy breath and nods as if it’s what he suspected all along.
“But I don’t want that becoming public knowledge,” I tell him. “Nadine needs and deserves her privacy.”
He sends me a dubious look because if it were possible before, it certainly is not now that I got into a fight with her brother and it’s all being replayed on every major news outlet, whether they cover sports or not.
“Nadine, you are not required to do anything you don’t want to, but we all need to understand the severity of the situation. ”
She nods but doesn’t speak. Not until he says, “Social media is not only tearing through Camden, but you as well.”
“What are they saying?” She sits up, knocking my hands away from her. Not that she did it on purpose, but at the moment when we should be a team, it doesn’t feel like we are.
Malcolm speaks kindly yet firmly. “All of the usual things to tear women down.”
“Bitch, whore, ugly…?” she guesses, and he nods solemnly.
My throat constricts like I’m about to puke, and I reach for my water, downing it. But that only makes me feel more nauseous.
Malcolm goes on. “They’re blaming you. Already betting the team will lose because of you and—”
“Okay. Okay.” I hold up my hands to stop him. “We get the picture.”
“But do you?” He aims his gaze at me, irritation radiating off him. Not the empathy he had for Nadine. “We’re in this situation because of you. She is in this situation because of you.”
I feel terrible about what happened, but not so much as when he lays it all at my feet, and I turn to Nadine, biting into her lip to keep her chin from wobbling, eyes glassy.
“Honey, I’m sorry.” I lean over, kissing any part of her I can reach—her hand, her arm, her shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she murmurs.
“It’s not. It’s not okay. It is my fault. All of this…” I close my eyes, dizzy with guilt. “I promised you I’d take care of you, and I didn’t. I caused this.”
She sniffs but doesn’t disagree. She clears her throat and blinks a few times before lifting her head, focusing her winter eyes on Malcom. “What do we do?”
“We start by being clear-eyed about what is going on. I know it’s hard to hear, but you should know exactly what we’re dealing with so you can make your own decisions.”
I’m not sure he’s alluding to her making a decision about our relationship or if that’s my own insecurities acting up, but my skin heats. “You don’t need to do anything,” I tell her, weaving my fingers with hers. “This isn’t your problem to fix. It’s mine.”
“But I’m collateral damage.”
And her words makes my heart splinter into a million pieces.
I can’t argue with her point. I threw the bomb and took her out as well.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, then look to Malcolm, needing to fix this. Hoping I can fix this. “What’s the plan?”
He sits up straighter, tugging on the lapel of his suit jacket, then digs out an iPad from inside his bag.
He spends a few moments finding whatever it is he needs and then explains, “The organization is going to put out a statement.” He hands it to me to read, three short sentences about tensions being high in the locker room, but that everyone on the team is focused on winning the conference and then the national championship.
Essentially saying, there is nothing to see here.
“I’ve also drafted something for you to post, but it’s up to you how personal you want to make it. Now that I know the root cause.”
I scroll down to read his—my—statement, a bland explanation of the situation basically echoing the team’s lines.
“You want me to post this?”
He nods. “And you’ll need to answer a few questions at the press call.”
I take off my glasses to rub at my eyes. “Okay. I’ll do whatever you need me to.”
He makes a curious sound. “That was easy. I came here prepared for a fight.”
I readjust my glasses on my nose and face Nadine. She still won’t look at me. She is my fight. She is the reason I fight. But right now, I’m not sure it’s enough.
I’m not sure I am enough.
And with that fear comes all of my shields. I smirk at Malcolm. “So that’s it? This could have been an email.”
He rolls his eyes, over my bullshit.
But before he can continue, Nadine stands, collects her iPad, tucks her loose hair behind her ear, then offers Malcolm a smile. “Thanks for coming, but I’m going to…”
She trails off and leaves the room without another word, my heart chasing after her. I watch her until she’s out of sight and then stare at the empty space some more.
She is disappointed.
I am a disappointment.
Malcolm heaves a sigh. “Guess we’re back to where we started. Everyone thinking you’re making this all about you.”
He’s not wrong.