Chapter 22 #2
She lifts her head, one brow raised dubiously. “For someone who loves trouble so much, you sure are scared of getting caught.”
I exhale slowly. Since coming here, I haven’t breathed a word about what happened in Miami to anyone.
Of course, the league’s investigation will always be the elephant in the room, but I haven’t trusted anyone enough to really tell them the whole story, despite the fact that it may shed a better light on me.
But with my family dynamic being so complicated, it’s hard to know where I’m safe from judgment.
With Sydney, I am.
“Growing up,” I begin, “my twin brother, Styles, was the golden child. He was good at everything he did, which always made him the star of the show. I figured out early on that I could get my fair share of attention by acting up, so I’d find whatever trouble I could, just to feel seen.”
She huffs a quiet laugh. “Old habits die hard, huh?”
I roll my eyes, stifling a smile. “I guess they do. Anyway, as we got older, I started pouring all my energy into the one sport I excelled at—football—while he fucked off and ran around with his friends. He played, too, but because he had a natural talent for it, he didn’t have to try as hard.
While I was putting in extra reps, so college scouts would notice me, he was doing dumb shit like hitting the casinos with a fake ID.
“It seemed fairly harmless at first. He played a lot of poker, which he was awful at, so he rarely won. He’d lose his allowance, sulk until I gave him half of mine, then he’d try again to no avail.
It wasn’t until someone showed him sports betting that he actually saw any success. That’s when it all went to shit.
“Gambling became his life. His grades slipped, causing all the schools that were looking at him to take a hard right. He didn’t care, though.
He was too busy running his own bookie business out of our parents’ basement to give a fuck.
When my offer from Florida State came in, I thought maybe he’d shape up, but he was already in too deep at that point.
He was using the money he was making from his business to pay off his own gambling debts, so he couldn’t just walk away without putting himself in danger.
” I take another deep breath, my gaze pinned to the wide expanse of moonlit grass in front of us as I continue.
“He kept digging himself into a deeper hole while I was in college, and by the time I had settled in with the Rage, our parents were through with his shit.
We staged an intervention, and he finally agreed to go to treatment.
But when he left after about three days, claiming that he was better, they cut him off completely.
“It wasn’t that easy for me. Styles is my twin brother.
That’s a bond that nobody could ever understand, and I felt like half of me was missing without him.
Unfortunately, he knew that, and he took full advantage.
He’d get himself into messes, run to me, and I’d secretly clean them up with no idea that I was putting my entire career at risk in the process. ”
She sits up, a million questions hanging on the tip of her tongue as her sympathetic stare burns into the side of my face.
Regardless of the fact that Sydney is the most accepting person I know, it’s hard to admit that my brother has a problem, and that he was all too willing to take me down with him.
But still, it feels good to finally let it out to someone who really knows what it’s like to be unconditionally loyal, even to their own detriment.
“He needed a place to stay,” I go on, “so I let him fill in for my assistant while she was on vacation, not thinking in a million years that he would steal from me. I generally gave him whatever he asked for, so why would he need to do it behind my back, right?” Her brows bunch, her plump lower lip worried between her teeth.
“I sent him to the store with my bank card to pick up a few things for the house. He took it upon himself to go to the bank, take out a bunch of money, and use it to bet against the Rage in that week’s playoff game.
I have no idea why he thought we’d lose, but my fumble during what would’ve been the winning drive made him very rich.
It was only a matter of time before videos of someone who looked a lot like me surfaced, taking money out of the bank and walking into the casino to make that bet. ”
Her eyes go wide. “They thought you lost the game on purpose? Why didn’t you tell them the truth?”
I shrug. “I did, kind of. I refused to press charges against Styles for stealing the money, and the bet he made was legal, so my fate was left up to the league’s investigators while they tried to figure out if I had any involvement.
In the end, they couldn’t prove that I threw the game, so I wasn't suspended, but Rage fans weren’t convinced.
They immediately started putting a lot of pressure on the franchise to get me out, and ultimately, I was cut.
I can’t say I really blame them, because I’ll admit that it didn’t look good, but it would have been nice to have their support.
I could’ve lost everything, and they never even tried to defend me. That shit hurt.”
She takes my face in her hands, dropping her forehead to mine.
Her eyes sparkle with unshed tears, the sight making my heart squeeze tight with emotion.
“I’m sorry that happened to you. You deserved better, Steele.
And I can promise you that, as long as you’re a Renegade, we’ll always have your back.
We’ll fight for you, no matter what, because you’re part of our family now. ”
In an attempt to hold back the words that are threatening to burst from my lungs, I crash my mouth to hers, not sure she’s ready to hear them. I’m falling for Sydney Grant.
Who am I kidding? I’ve already fallen, and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do to stop it.
This beautiful, sassy, exciting woman has made me feel more seen in the short time I’ve known her than anyone else has in my entire life.
I don’t think she’ll ever know what that means to me.
With her, I can be unapologetically myself, without any of the walls or fake bravado I like to hide behind when I’m hurt.
She’s truly selfless, and I’m the luckiest guy in the world for even being in her orbit.
Our tongues tangle in a dance that’s beginning to feel more and more like home with every slow, meaningful stroke.
I’m addicted to it, certain that I could survive solely on the taste of her lips until the end of time and never be hungry again.
What she’s given me—both professionally and personally—has made me want to be better.
Not only for myself and my teammates, but for her, too.
I know things are complicated, and we still have a million cards stacked against us, but we’ll get to a place where we no longer have to hide the way we feel. I’m all in on this thing, no matter what anyone says. As long as she wants me, I’m right here.
She breaks the connection, her swollen lips curling into a smile against mine before she turns her attention to the practice field. “Come on, Mr. Football Bad Boy. Teach me how to make a touchdown.”