Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Leo
Your parents don’t love you, and you think he will?
The comment hasn’t stopped replaying in my head since I saw it on Mina’s phone last night. That was what Jack said using a burner account on one of her posts.
It’s him. I fucking know it is. Only he would say shit like that, and it’s been going on since he started that group chat—I still have no idea how he found her message to me, and I don’t believe him for one second that I left my phone unlocked on it when I went to the showers.
Harassing Mina with those messages was a punishable offense in itself. He’s taking it too far. He’s dragging her into his fucked-up games like he’s done with so many people before. This is what he does. Psychological warfare.
A comment like that after what she finally revealed to me the other night? Too far.
I don’t know if she’s seen it, but I sure as shit deleted it in case she hasn’t. He won’t leave her alone, and there’s nothing I can do about it beyond throwing empty threats.
The longer I lean against the wall waiting for Jack to show up, the more pissed off I get. I have no proof that it’s him, so it’s not like I can make a complaint to the league or the authorities. No one would believe me.
Everyone knows I have it out for Jack because I’m more of a cunt to him than anyone else, and any complaint I lodge will make it seem like I’m stirring shit just to be a problem.
It takes about ten minutes for him to stroll through the doors and down the hall, eyes glued to his phone.
“Jack.” His eyes snap up to mine. “We need to talk.” There’s a flicker of hope that I’d swipe off his face for free, but it slides right off when I keep speaking. “Leave her alone.” I jump straight into it.
It’s not the first time I’ve told him, but I intend for this to be the last time.
The only reason I haven’t put his head through a window is because he’s been slowly bothering her less.
“What?” His brows pinch in confusion.
He did this last time too. “Don’t play fucking stupid with me,” I bite out. It doesn’t matter how low I try to keep my voice, it carries through the concrete hallway. “The author. Stay the fuck away from her.”
“Duval,” a familiar voice echoes.
Oh fucking hell. Where the shit did Coach come from?
I narrow my eyes at Jack. I’d put money down on him knowing his dad was right behind him. Cunt.
“Good, you’re here. You got a minute?” Coach nods in the direction of his office.
It’s a true testament to my patience that I manage not to give him a blank look.
He’s the one who sets my schedule. Even if I don’t have a minute, I’m going to have to speak with him.
Which can only mean he’s taking the “catch flies with honey” approach, rather than holding a gun to my head to tell me what to do.
Jack’s leering stare sticks to my skin as I follow Coach up the stairs and into the administration portion of the building, far from where Jack should be, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I turned around and found him two feet away.
Coach tries in vain to make small talk that’s not reciprocated beyond more than one-word responses. He gives up sooner than I expect, which only gives me more time to list all the things he could be wanting to discuss.
When he tells me to take a seat, I throw him a bone and lower myself into the uncomfortable chair as he settles into his on the opposite side of the desk. His lips are pursed in discomfort as if he’s trying to find the right words.
He clears his throat. “Your teammates have expressed concerns regarding your focus lately.” Jack. Jack has expressed concerns. “Frankly, I’ve been noticing the same thing.”
I cock a brow at him, maintaining eye contact. Has he now? Last I checked, I’ve been playing the best I have in my entire career, even though I have no chemistry with any of my teammates.
My performance is all owed to Mina and knowing she’s watching me play. I can’t very well disappoint her, now can I?
Coach dials up his fatherly demeanor, and I just about introduce him to my fist. It aggravates me every fucking time he thinks he might replace my dad. There’s no doubt in my mind that he knows about what I was accused of when I was younger.
I think he might even pity me since he reached out to check on me a year after it all went down.
“There comes a point in every man’s life when he needs to decide what his priorities are.
For some, it’s their family. Then they look at whether it’s by providing for them or being present.
For others, it’s becoming the best they can be and making a name for themselves, and for those people, sometimes they need a reminder of what they’re after, so they don’t lose sight of what they want. ”
A muscle in my jaw twitches. “Is this a reminder?”
“Women come and go. Your position in the league doesn’t.”
This fucking—
I take a deep breath and focus on keeping my hands uncurled. Jack more or less said the same thing: women are a distraction.
So, what? Jack couldn’t control me by himself, so he got his daddy involved to deal with me for him? Fuck him. Fuck them both.
“Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?” I manage to get my words out cool, and not like I want to end the Norton line.
It’s a toss-up between “no” and “actually, let’s discuss your lack of friends within the team and how you fucking hate my son.” Thankfully, he stands, grabs a clipboard, and gestures for me to follow him out the door.
“We can talk more later. They’re probably all waiting for us.”
I hold back a scoff. There will be no further discussion between us if I can help it.
My phone vibrates in my jacket pocket as I head toward the car after practice. The same old hope that it’s Mina rises up even though I should know better. She’s too scared to call me. That ball’s in my court.
This morning’s interaction put me in a foul mood. So it’d better be someone I like calling, or else they’ll learn what my voicemail sounds like.
Sabrina’s name flashes on the screen, and I pick it up before wedging the phone between my shoulder and ear to put my crap in the trunk.
She doesn’t waste time with greetings and jumps straight into why she’s calling. “How do you feel about attending a gala next week? I have a spare ticket.”
I pause. “Is that ticket meant to belong to Mitchell?”
This sounds familiar. I think it’s a charity ball of some sort for something I wasn’t fully paying attention to. Honestly, Mitchell probably didn’t fully know either when he was complaining to me about needing to find a new tux.
“Maybe.” Sabrina answers far too conspiratorially for my liking.
“What’s the catch?” I slide into the front seat and fire up the engine.
She hesitates. That’s never a good sign. A worse sign? When she rushes to say something. “Mom and Dad may or may not be there.”
I glare at the center console where her name is on the screen as my phone connects to Bluetooth.
“Looks like you’re going to waste a ticket.” Sabrina knows better than to ask me. If they’re there, I won’t be.
I can practically hear her pouting. “Come on. For me? Please?”
“What about that new friend of yours? Tala?” I say because I just can’t help myself. I always need to check in to make sure her and Mina’s friendship is still solid.
Well, as solid as it can be since my sister doesn’t know her real name.
She snorts. “That would be like asking her if she feels like living out her personal form of hell.”
“Ditto,” I mutter, glad she’s more considerate of Mina’s wellbeing than mine.
“She’s the most introverted person I’ve ever met.
Sometimes I feel bad dragging her out of her apartment to grab coffee, but I think getting out and about and talking to people is good for her soul.
I doubt she sees it that way though.” I’ve always appreciated my sister’s ability to tell me everything I want to know without needing to ask probing questions.
“Plus, after she managed to find me this limited-edition bag I’ve been searching for everywhere for years, Leo, years, I figured I’d do the nice thing and not succumb her to a tedious night of schmoozing with assholes. ”
I back out of my parking space and start the drive home as she talks. “But I deserve it?”
“Always.” Her answer is immediate.
“I’d do a lot of things for you, Sabrina—”
“I’m aware. So what’s one more thing?”
“I do a lot for you,” I reiterate. “Which is why I’m not going to ruin my year by putting myself in a situation where I might interact with the people who sired me, just so you have someone to talk shit with the whole night.”
Her bratty huff crackles through the receiver. “Fine. But you’ll owe me.”
“Will I now?”
“Yup.” She pops the p. “You’ll know once I’m ready to collect the favor.”