Chapter 56
GAbrIEL
Icut a path across the parking lot toward the locker room with Julio at my side, our steps hurried, knowing we’re fucking late.
Coach is going to have our asses.
Deacon and Felix left our place ten minutes before we did in Deacon’s car. Julio and I decided to ride our bikes over but it looks like that ten minutes is going to make a difference.
“Shit,” I mutter, glancing at Julio. “We’re screwed.”
He grimaces. “Maybe not.”
With any luck, we can slip in unnoticed, but I won’t hold my breath.
Shoving the door open, I step inside, bracing myself for Coach’s reprimand, except he’s nowhere to be found. Tension hangs thick in the air, and the team is scattered about, everyone trying to get ready while the muffled shouts from Coach's office penetrate through the closed door.
I exchange a glance with Julio, both of us silently acknowledging the storm brewing there.
“Damn, what’s going on?” Julio mutters under his breath, his eyes darting towards the closed office door.
Deacon walks toward us. “It’s done,” he mutters.
My gaze jerks toward him. “It’s Holt in there?”
He nods, and a surge of satisfaction washes over me.
“Finally.”
With a smile curling my lips, we grab our gear. It’s obvious the team is trying to block out the escalating confrontation behind the door.
But the yelling grows louder, more volatile, making it impossible to ignore.
All eyes are on the door now.
My grip tightens on my duffel bag, muscles tense as I exchange uneasy glances with the guys around me. This is what I wanted, but why is Coach dragging the conversation out? Kick Holt off the team and be done with it. What the hell is there to still talk about?
With a suddenness that startles us all, the door bursts open, slamming against the wall with a reverberating crack.
Austin storms out, fury etched into every line of his face.
Before I can react, he shoves me hard, the impact sending me careening into the unforgiving metal of the lockers.
“What the hell, man?” I push myself up, muscles coiling with adrenaline and ready to retaliate, but Parker Benson is already between us, holding Austin back.
“Chill, man! It’s not worth it!” Benson’s voice is firm, but there’s an underlying tremor.
Chambers comes up beside them and asks, “What happened?”
“This isn’t over,” Holt seethes, shaking off his friend's hold. “You’re going to regret fucking with my life.”
“I didn’t do anything, asshole.” I glare at him. “So you can take your temper tantrum to someone else.”
“You got me kicked off the fucking team!” he shouts.
“What the fuck?” Parker and Chambers say in unison.
“No fucking way,” Parker says, shaking his head. “That’s bullshit. They can’t—”
The unease in my gut twists into something darker. There’s no way for him to know the photos came from us. Coach doesn’t even know that. But it’s obvious Holt suspects me, and he’s not wrong.
“Come on, man. Let’s go cool off,” Gregory says, pulling Austin away. “This isn’t over. You can fight this.”
Holt’s nostrils flare, and with one last glare in my direction, Austin relents, allowing his friends to lead him out of the locker room. The tension eases slightly, but the unease remains, a nagging feeling at the back of my mind.
Before I can dwell on it further, Coach emerges from his office, his face flushed with anger. “Alright, everyone! Get your asses on the field, now!”
We scramble to comply, the chaos of the locker room fading into the background as we focus on the task at hand. But the unease lingers, a shadow over what should have been just another practice.
As I jog onto the field, I can’t shake the feeling that something is going to happen. Another shoe is going to drop. I grab my phone and type out a quick text.
“Herrera, put that away or you’ll be running laps the rest of practice,” Coach warns.
Me: Are you on campus?
I stare at the screen, earning more of Coach’s ire, but I waste precious seconds waiting on a response that doesn’t come.
“Herrera!”
“On it, Coach.” I hastily comply—putting my phone away—but Cecilia’s silence weighs heavily on my mind. I’m probably overreacting, but the way Austin looked when he left, I don’t like it. And I don’t trust the fucker.
The last time he was pissed with me, he took it out on Cecilia.
What if he tries shit like that again?
Fuck.
I should have thought this through. Had a plan in place for watching over her, at least until the dust settled. She’s been back for a few hours now, so with any luck, she’s already tucked away safely at home for the day.
She doesn’t have practice today. It’s supposed to be a recovery day for her and the rest of the team after the meet, so she shouldn’t even be on campus right now.
I exhale a breath. I’m letting Holt get in my head, and I need to shake it off. That asshole doesn’t get to mess with me anymore.
“Come on,” Julio says, sensing my unease. “Let’s just get through today.”
Nodding, I concede, telling myself I’ll go to Cecilia’s place and check on her as soon as practice is over.
Coach puts us through a series of drills for the next thirty minutes that leave me dripping in sweat, but despite the physical exertion, I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.
Cecilia still hasn’t responded to my message despite the two additional texts I sent, and worry is gnawing at my gut.
I don’t like this.
“Something’s wrong,” I tell Julio, wiping the sweat from my forehead with the hem of my shirt.
“Obviously. Coach is pissed and taking his anger out on us.”
“Not that,” I tell him. “Cecilia isn’t responding to my messages.”
Felix jogs up beside us. “Bro, if you don’t get back on—”
“I need to go.” There’s no reason for me to think something has happened to Cecilia, but I know it in my gut. Something is wrong. I got what I wanted. Holt’s off the team. But my girl still isn’t safe. I know how he operates. Holt always retaliates.
Fuck. This was a mistake.
“You can’t just walk out in the middle of practice,” Julio says.
“Watch me.”
“Gabe—” I wave him off, but he falls into step, jogging beside me.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“You’re not going alone,” Julio says, his voice resigned. “We’re coming with you.”
Felix nods in agreement, his expression determined. “Yeah, man, we got your back. We’ll deal with the fallout with Coach after we find your girl.”
Relief sweeps through me right as Deacon joins us, his usually calm demeanor replaced by a steely resolve. “I’m coming, too,” he says.
I open my mouth to argue. Coach is going to lose his shit if we all walk out right now, especially with a game coming up.
“We’re a team, remember?” Deacon says, cutting off my argument. “We stick together.”
I hesitate, torn between my urgency to find Cecilia and the risk of involving my teammates in what might turn out to be nothing. But their unwavering support bolsters my resolve, and I nod, gratitude swelling in my chest.
“Alright,” I tell them. “Let’s go.”