Chapter 38
Cooper
“Fucking Christ,”Ramsey curses loudly as he finishes tying his cleat, and I look over at him. He’s got his phone in his hand and is shaking his head.
The look he gives me is all I need to see. It hits me like a ton of bricks straight in my gut. I have no idea what’s happened, but his look is enough to tell me it’s fucked.
“What?” I manage to ask, dread filling my veins.
“I don’t fucking want to show you man.” He takes a deep breath, pressing the phone to his jersey.
“What is it?” There’s impatience in my voice that even I can hear.
“A DM I just got. It’s got pictures in it, and it’s you.”
“Me?” I’m confused.
“You and Bea… in a compromising position.” Ramsey winces as he tells me.
I hear a choking sound on the other side of the locker room, and then a rush of laughter behind me. I glance up, and everyone in the locker room seems to be looking at their phone screens or me.
Seems like a lot of people in this room got similar DMs, or I’m having one of those waking nightmares that Bea gets. Instead of naked in a classroom, it’s naked on the phones of all your teammates right before a game.
“Let me see.”
Ramsey hands me his phone reluctantly, and I see the anonymous name on social media and a string of photos that have been sent to him through it. It’s me and Bea in my office from the other night. I feel sick, so much so that I think I might actually vomit. I grab my stomach, tossing Ramsey his phone, and move through the hall to the bathrooms.
I wretch the second I get through the door, my stomach twisting but my throat and mouth come up nearly dry. Just the taste of bile and the room spinning keep me feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck. My mind is racing with how anyone could have gotten those pictures. There must be cameras in the house we don’t know about. There must be someone accessing the house that we don’t know about.
Panic floods my veins because Trix didn’t travel with us. She stayed back with Lizzy so they could work on a school project she has due tomorrow. She’d promised to watch the game on TV, and it means both my girls are sitting ducks in my own home. I race back down the hallway, bumping into Ramsey on the way.
“Whoa. Where you headed?”
“My bag. I need my phone. I have to warn her.”
Ramsey jogs down the hall with me.
“She didn’t know about the pictures? You didn’t take them?” Ramsey frowns.
“Fuck no. They’re not ours. There’s a camera in the house.”
“Holy fuck.” I’ve never seen Ramsey look shocked before.
Nothing seems to faze him, and yet now, he’s standing stark still as I slam my finger down on Trix’s number. It rings. Once, twice, and then finally I hear her voice.
“Coop?” She’s confused at why I’m calling, knowing I’m about to start a game.
“Get out of the house.”
“What?” Her voice is tight with confusion and shock.
“Get you and Lizzy out of the house. There are cameras inside, and someone has access. I don’t know who or how many. But there are photos of us in the office.”
“What are you talking about?” The panic seeps into her voice.
“There are photos of us from the other night in the office. They—the stalker, whoever it is—they sent them to my whole team through social media DMs. Ramsey got one. I saw it. It’s bad. You and Lizzy… you’re not safe, and you need to get out.”
“Okay. Okay….” I can hear her thoughts racing through the phone, the stuttered nature of her breathing. “Okay, I’ll get her packed, and I’ll get her to her mom’s. Do you think that’s okay? To take her there?”
“Yes. Take her there. I’ll text her, and let her know something’s going on and you’re coming.”
“Okay.”
“RAWLINGS! RAMSEY! Let’s fucking go guys. We got a game to play!” Coach Undergrove yells. I look up and most of the team has already disappeared from the locker room.
“Just a fucking minute!”
“Excuse me?” Coach’s tone shifts.
“He’s got a good reason, Coach. We can explain. He just needs a minute.” Ramsey steps between us.
Quentin stops in his path up to the stadium and turns and looks at me. “Everything okay?”
“No. Nothing’s okay.” I shake my head.
Both Undergroves close in on me.
“Trix, I gotta go. The game. But just… You’re getting out of there? You’ll text me when you’re safe?”
“I will. I promise. I’ll get Lizzy to her mom’s.”
“And you?”
“And me. I’ll go to Mads’s house.”
“Okay. Let me know when you’re safe. I love you. Tell Lizzy I love her too.”
“I love you. We’ll be okay. Don’t worry about us. Just focus on the game.”
I don’t have time to argue with her that that’s impossible, so I just repeat myself and hang up the phone. Questioning looks surround me, and I scrub a hand over my face.
“We have a stalker. We’ve had security involved for a while. Investigators. Even Madison,” I nod to Quentin. “But we can’t get to the bottom of it. Or haven’t yet, at least. I just found out they have cameras in the house. Trix and Lizzy are there alone, and I had to tell her. Give her a chance to get out and get somewhere safe.”
“Does Madison know?” Quentin’s furrowed brow grows deeper by the second. “She can come stay with us. They both can.”
“That’s what she said she’s gonna do. She’s taking Lizzy to her mom’s house.”
“Coach?” One of the assistant coaches yells to Coach Undergrove, questioning why we’re not getting our asses upstairs where we belong. They’ll be barreling out of the tunnel to start the game any second, and I can’t even think straight right now.
“Just a minute!” Coach Undergrove yells, and then he turns to me. “Did you call the cops?”
“I’m sure she will.” My mind races with questions about the best course of action. If I should have told her to call them first.
“You should make sure she calls them,” Quentin agrees. I look at Ramsey, and he shrugs.
“I hate the fucking cops, but if they’re alone it might be her only choice.” Ramsey shrugs.
“I’ll send a text to Madison.” Quentin nods.
“Quickly. Then get upstairs!” Coach Undergrove gives us all a stern once-over and then looks at me. “Can you play? We need you out there, but I need you to not be rattled out on that field, especially considering who we’re playing today.”
“I can play.” No way am I letting this fucker get the best of me, whoever they are.
“Half the team has the photos on their phones. Probably should tell them to delete that shit or face consequences.” Ramsey speaks matter-of-factly to Quentin, and he nods.
“I’ll handle it,” Coach Undergrove says. “You just focus on getting this shit handled so your heads are on straight when we get out there. Got it?”
“Got it.” I nod.
It doesn’tlast long though because when we’re on the field, my brother is lined up across from me, and he doesn’t waste time letting me know he got the same photos my teammates did. He follows me back toward the line of scrimmage after the next play.
“I told you this would fucking happen. I told you you’d ruin her and should stay away. But you wouldn’t fucking listen, would you?”
“I’ve got it handled.”
“Yeah, well now we’ve all seen how you’ve got it handled.”
“Shut the fuck up!”
I turn around and shove him in the chest without thinking. I’m ready to rip his helmet off. We can finish what he started at the lake house.
Refs and other players come flying over to us from across the field. Garner and Ramsey pull me backward while he continues to shout something unintelligible. The referees warn us this is our first offense, and we won’t get another warning.
I get the signal to come off the line, and Coach subs for me. I slam my helmet on the back of the bench and sit down. The guy next to me looks at me like I’ve lost my shit. One of the offensive coordinators comes over and crouches in front of me.
“Tune him out. You’ve got to leave your personal problems off the field, or we won’t get through this game. You’re here now. The only thing you can fix now is what happens on that field, so focus on that. Worry about the rest after the game, got it?”
I nod like I understand him because it’s impossible to explain that I can’t possibly worry about the rest later. Not when my girls are in trouble, and not when I’m failing them by being here instead of there when they need me most. Having a family member who wants to rub that shit in on top of it just pours salt in an already fresh wound.