Chapter 12 #2
My jaw clenched so tight it hurt. “Peterson,” I said, low enough that the word felt like a warning, “now isn’t the right time to go looking for a different story. Stick with Whittaker’s piece.”
She studied me. “And if I don’t?”
My gaze dropped to her notebook. Then back to her face. “Then you only have yourself to blame.”
Her eyes narrowed, just a fraction. “Did they tell you to say this?”
I looked away. “Fuck me, you’re obstinate,” I muttered.
“I already caught you in a place you weren’t supposed to be, and you saw his reaction the same as I did.
As Mike, your new friend, did.” She flushed at the reminder.
“Use your head. If you try to do more than Mike’s story, then it’s not going to end well. ”
“For who?” she asked. “Me or your program?”
I met her gaze, and something in my chest twisted.
“Use your head,” I repeated.
She stared at me for a long second — long enough for the sound of drills and slamming weights and shouting coaches to fade into the background. Then she closed her notebook. “If there’s something wrong,” she said quietly, “I’m not going to pretend I don’t see it.”
“Yes. You are.”
She looked at me, intelligence sharp and clear in her eyes, and I softened a little.
“You heard what he said to Whittaker. This is people’s lives, Peterson. Every fucking five a.m. start, every ice bath, every missed holiday.” I shook my head slightly. “It’s not just a piece on a blog and a headline in a local paper, and it’s much more than ruining someone’s dream.”
“You know about the blog?” Her eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed with suspicion.
Fuck.
Her eyes searched mine for falsehood, or bullshit, or fuck knows what she was thinking, but suddenly she gave me that same narrowed glare I was becoming used to, and her gaze went past my shoulder.
Hadley scoffed. “You’re a player, and I don’t mean football,” she said with a light shake of her head. “So, thanks, but I’ll pass.”
“Slater, are you flirting?” Coach Merriman snapped, coming up behind me.
She’d seen him approaching and giving me an out.
“Keeping in practice, Coach,” I joked lightly. He muttered something, but he bought it.
I watched her as she walked away, head high, shoulders squared — just like she had in the weight room, on the field, in film, every moment she’d been taking hits that weren’t meant to be hers.
I was protecting her from the team and them from her, but all I needed to do was keep her from the truth.
And God help me, I don’t think it would matter to her. If she kept digging . . . she’d only have herself to blame. I’d warned her not to. That was all I could do.
I turned back to practice, and I caught Dante’s look across the field. He looked pissed.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I muttered as I jogged back to the line of scrimmage.
His look was impassive. “Slater.”
“Later.”
He nodded in agreement. A time and a place. Dante knew that better than anyone.
* * *
I’d just come out of the locker room, hair still damp, shirt half tucked because I couldn’t be assed to fix it, head a complete mess of Hadley’s voice and my own bullshit. The hallway was empty except for the hum of the air-conditioning and the squeak of my sneakers on tile.
When a shadow stepped into my path, I almost knocked the fucker out until I realized it was Dante.
I sighed loudly. “Quarterbacks have no business being that quiet. It’s unnatural.”
“Sorry. Thought you’d have more spatial awareness.”
I leveled him with a glare, and he grinned as he fell into step beside me. We walked out of the building and headed back to the apartment.
“How’d your talk with her go?”
I blinked. “She’s hellbent on causing trouble.” I shook my head. “Didn’t listen to a word I said.”
“Yeah, I could tell it wasn’t going well.” He glanced at me. “Didn’t expect you to pull her aside in front of half the team. Noah and I watched the whole thing.” He tried to hide his grin. “You looked like you were two seconds away from either strangling her or fucking her.”
Okay, maybe I was a little close to wrapping my hands around her neck . . . and now I had that image in my head of my hand around her throat while I was fucking her. “I wasn’t—”
“No need to deny it,” he murmured. “A few of the guys noticed how close you were, especially when you told them to shut up with their comments. And the coaches noticed. Especially after Sutherland told us all not to talk to her. You need to be more careful.”
I dragged a hand down my face. “I know, but it’s not a simple thing, talking to her. Half of them are hating on her because of his bullshit, and she doesn’t have a fucking clue what changed. Someone had to say something.”
“Agreed,” Dante said dryly. “But did that someone have to be you?” He snorted. “You’re usually the one running their mouth, Dust, not shutting it down.”
I felt my jaw tighten. “Not like what they’ve been saying.
I don’t say shit like that.” Dante gave a half shrug.
“She’s getting heat she doesn’t deserve,” I muttered.
We walked across the quad, and I was thankful it was quieter.
“You know I’m right, he was a complete dick to throw that shit her way the other day. ”
“I know. But we agreed she’s a problem.” He tugged his duffel bag higher up on his shoulder. “Is she no longer a problem?”
“Of course she is,” I snapped, seeing his eyebrows rise at my tone. “She doesn’t know when to back off. She should have the word ‘problem’ tattooed on her fucking forehead.”
Dante chuckled. But when he spoke, his voice was low. “Maybe being vague isn’t working.” He glanced my way. “She doesn’t know what to back off from. She thinks she has a story; we don’t know what he has. It’s a mindfuck.”
“I know,” I barked. “But honestly, I agree with Coach, the quicker she’s out of the stadium, the better for all of us.”
“Maybe it is.” Dante exhaled loudly, his hand dragging down his face, like mine had only moments before. She was getting to us all.
“She’s always going to be digging,” I said, quieter now. “She found something the other day. I found her in that old file room.”
Dante stiffened. “What old file room? Why are you only telling me now?”
“Because I don’t need to report to you every damn day, Spence.” I saw his look of surprise and rolled my shoulders, trying to work out the tension. “Shit. I don’t know why I’m snapping at you. She pisses me off, know what I mean?”
“Yeah, it’s fine, I get it.” He turned to look at me. “What happened?”
“She was in the back office. It’s full of old paperwork.
” I saw his look of interest and wished I hadn’t mentioned it.
“I don’t know what she found, but I reminded her today that whatever she’s finding isn’t just a story.
It’s people’s lives she’s messing with. We all know Whittaker isn’t exaggerating when he said Sutherland basically told him he was off the team if she steps out of line. I was there, I heard him.”
Dante swore under his breath. “Did she say anything about what it was?” he asked. “What she found?”
“No.”
“And what did you tell her?”
I paused.
Dante’s eyes narrowed. “Dustin.”
“I told you, I told her to stay away from it,” I muttered. “I may have mentioned her blog.”
He groaned as though that physically pained him. “You told the investigative reporter we know more than she thought we did, and then told her not to look into something? That always works.”
“We don’t need to nip at each other,” I muttered sullenly. “And what was I supposed to do? If she gets close to whatever this is—”
“That’s not on you,” he said firmly.
“I know it isn’t, but that doesn’t make it better.” We reached the dorm, I swiped my pass, and we headed upstairs and into the apartment.
I dumped my stuff on the floor and finally looked up at him. “What?”
He studied me for a long second, brow furrowing deeper. “This isn’t about the program,” he said quietly. “This is about her?”
“It’s not,” I lied.
“Dustin,” he said, voice dipping to something softer, steadier, “you warning her like that? You watching her like you are? You getting pissed when the guys mess with her? That’s not you doing crowd control.”
“I don’t know what you’re implying.” I refused to look at him.
He laughed. One disbelieving huff. “I’m implying you like her.”
I recoiled like he’d swung at me. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Okay,” Dante said, hands up. “Let’s pretend that’s true. Then answer me something.” His gaze pinned me. No escape. No wriggle room. “Why do you care this much if she gets hurt?”
The apartment suddenly felt unbearably small. Because I cared. Way more than I should. More than made sense.
“I don’t,” I said weakly.
Dante just shook his head. “Man, you’re lying to the wrong person.”
Silence stretched between us.
Finally, he added, “Just . . . don’t get too involved with this. If you want to protect her, do it the right way. But my advice is your advice — stay out of it.”
I swallowed hard. “I know.” I didn’t meet his stare. “It was just a warning, that’s all.”
He nodded. “Well, you did your best.” He smiled. “Maybe you two should stay away from each other. There’s . . . tension between you. Anyone can see it, especially after this afternoon.”
I didn’t have a comeback for that.
He clapped a hand on my shoulder, squeezing once before stepping around me. “Hey, Dust?” he said over his shoulder.
“Yeah?”
“Maybe we stop treating her like she’s the enemy . . . but know she’s not an ally either.”
I knew that. That was the whole problem. I didn’t know what she was, and I couldn’t file her under either category, which was driving me crazy.
I didn’t know how to handle her, and that was the danger.