Chapter 37 #2
Sav had fallen asleep within minutes, a fistful of my shirt in her hand like she was afraid I’d disappear if she let go.
I’d lain awake, staring at the ceiling, every muscle wound tight.
She’d done this for me. I’m sure a part of her, tired of staying quiet, would have burst out eventually. But what happened with her dad tonight . . . that was on me.
Her father had tried to break her down because of me, and she had not stood there and taken it. I’d known Savannah was strong, but this? This was something else. She was carrying weight she didn’t owe me, and all I wanted to do was lift it off her shoulders and smash it over her father’s head.
I’d wanted to keep her clean of this. But she was already in it — she was tangled up in it now because of me.
I couldn’t let this crap with my football program have a negative impact on Sav.
By the time the night started turning to gray through the blinds, I’d already made my decision.
There were people I could go to — boosters, alumni, names that carried weight.
Guys who weren’t afraid to say the program was rotting from the inside.
If anyone could pull strings to protect us, it’d be them.
I slipped out of bed quietly so as not to disturb her, grabbed a hoodie, and headed to the athletic building.
I’d given back my lounge pass that gave me access to places others couldn’t go, but I still had an athletic access pass. The locker room and the training facility were open to all players. From there, I knew the routes to get to the offices.
I needed to look for Sutherland's contact records — boosters, alumni, donors — anyone with enough weight to pull strings. His office was the most likely place to find names.
My hand was on the door handle to Coach Sutherland’s office when a voice stopped me cold.
“Ten.”
Coach Merriman, arms folded across his barrel chest, blocked the exit. His stare was hard, his voice harder. “You and me. My office. Now.”
I hesitated just long enough for him to catch it, and his eyes narrowed.
“You think you’re the first good player to poke around where he shouldn’t?
Don’t make me laugh.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice.
“Keep your head down, play your part, and this program will take care of you. Talk—” his smile didn’t reach his eyes — “and you’ll be surprised how fast a quarterback’s career can disappear. ”
He turned and walked into his office, the door open like an invitation —or a warning.
Suddenly, the plan I’d been building all night tilted. For half a second, I thought about walking away. Pretending I hadn’t heard him, pretending I didn’t care.
But that wasn’t me.
If Merriman thought he could wave a threat in my face and watch me roll over, he’d picked the wrong fucking quarterback.
I followed him into the office, shutting the door behind me with a click. The air smelled faintly of old coffee and sweat, papers stacked high on the desk like they were meant to bury anything inconvenient.
Merriman didn’t bother sitting. He leaned against the desk, arms folded, watching me like I was a rookie about to botch a snap.
“You got something you want to say, Coach?” My tone was even, but I could feel the anger in my chest, hot and tight.
His smirk was small, cruel. “What I said outside should be enough. But I spoke to Bobby Ray, and in case you didn’t hear it right the first time when he told you, I’ll spell it out for you since you’re too damn stubborn to take the hint.
This program doesn’t survive without friends. And friends don’t come cheap.”
Friends? My stomach turned. “You’re talking about benefactors?”
He tilted his head, that same smirk deepening. “I’m talking survival. Scholarships, grades, medical bills . . . you think any of this runs clean? You think boys like you get here on talent alone? No, Spence. People grease the wheels. Always have, always will.”
I clenched my fists, forcing myself not to rise to it, and not to give too much away. “You mean the payouts?”
His eyes sharpened, the smirk vanishing.
“I mean shut your mouth and play your game. You want to end up like Mason Sterling? Forgotten, shoved out before anyone noticed he was even here? Keep digging where you don’t belong and you’ll be back in Backwater, Ohio, in community college before you can say shit. ”
Sterling. Again.
I kept my face blank, but the name rattled through me like a snap count I hadn’t expected. “I’m from Riverash, Ohio. Not Backwater.”
“Don’t give me your smart mouth, Spence.
” Merriman leaned forward, lowering his voice to a growl.
“You want to keep your girl out of this? Your roommates? You play ball. You smile for the cameras, and you keep your god damn mouth shut.” He watched me with hard, calculating eyes.
“You want to lift that sister of yours with the nasty habit and your nephew out of Backwater, Ohio, you keep your mouth shut. You play the game you’ve played for the last three years. ”
He knew about Jiana. How the fuck did he know about Jiana?
The words landed like body blows, heavy and deliberate.
I didn’t flinch. Not in front of him. I refused to give him the satisfaction. “Anything else, Coach?”
He studied me for a long time, waiting for me to crack. When I didn’t, he chuckled low and pushed off the desk. “That’ll do. You’re due in the training room in thirty minutes, don’t be late.”
He brushed past me, leaving me in the stale air and silence. The office door clicked shut behind Merriman, and I stayed frozen where I stood. My jaw ached from how hard I was clenching it.
Dustin. Noah. Savannah. Jiana . . .
All names he’d thrown at me like weapons, like reminders of just how much they could take if I didn’t fall in line.
I dug my hands into my hair and dragged them down over my face, forcing a breath out. My reflection caught in the dark window —the ‘golden boy’ everyone wanted to believe in. That’s what they needed me to be. And underneath? A guy who was one more warning away from snapping.
I thought about Savannah, about the way she’d looked last night when she told me her father didn’t think she belonged here anymore. She’d taken that hit because of me, because she would rather stand tall than hide behind something that was dangerous if it was morally wrong.
My plan was to talk to some of the boosters, but Merriman was implying they already knew and approved.
A muscle ticked in my jaw. I’d taken hits on the field, knocks that left me gasping on the turf, ribs bruised, vision blurred, a shoulder bordering on a problem. None of them burned like this.
I paced the length of the room, fists clenching and unclenching.
Next season was supposed to be my year. My shot at the Draft.
Every rep, every film session, every snap — it was supposed to build toward that one chance.
Instead, I was tangled in a web of shit so deep I couldn’t tell where the lies ended, and the truth started.
And the worst part? They had me. My friends. My family. My girl. My future.
I wanted to put my fist through the wall. Wanted to drive until I couldn’t see Wrighton’s campus behind me. Wanted to go back in time to the day I picked up that first phone call and wished I’d never answered it.
Instead, I stood there, jaw tight, chest heaving, while the spark I’d been trying to keep buried turned into something hotter.
Angrier.
Because Merriman was wrong about one thing.
I wasn’t built to keep my mouth shut, but I could play the long game along with the best of them.