Chapter 10 #2
Levi, who had ahold of Ross now, suddenly struggled as Ross tried to break free and come after Jordan, who had apparently never heard of staying quiet while you were fucking ahead.
“Fucking shut up,” Nate said and risked Jordan overcoming him by removing one of his hands from around Jordan’s bicep and slapping it across his mouth. “Are you stupid? I don’t care what he said to you, or what he is, you don’t fucking do that. Ever.”
Jordan mumbled angrily around Nate’s hand.
Nate wasn’t willing to risk removing it though.
“What’s going on here?” Shit. It was Coach Dell, the defensive coordinator, who’d come over to see what the fuss was about.
Now he was going to have to hear from Sterling that he hadn’t quieted Jordan quickly enough or got to him fast enough to get him to shut his fucking mouth.
“We got it handled,” Nate said.
“Yeah,” Levi agreed. Thankfully, Ross had seemingly gone quiet, all the fight seeped out of him, and he wasn’t even being held back anymore.
Coach Dell looked from Nate to Jordan. “Tell me,” he said anyway.
Jordan opened his mouth but Nate just smacked him. “What you have to say doesn’t matter,” he said flatly.
“Fucking unfair,” Jordan muttered under his breath.
“No, he’s right,” Coach said. He wasn’t a bellowing presence in the room, almost never yelled. Was most effective when he was deploying this mystical fucking look that made it look like you’d disappointed him so epically that you could only redeem yourself by fixing it for next time.
He was one of the best coaches Nate had ever had.
“Still bullshit,” Jordan said, raising his voice more.
In the two years since they’d been together, Nate had gotten to know Coach Dell and felt like he was even pretty good at predicting what he’d do in any given situation.
Coach turned to Nate. “You wanna tell him why?”
Oh, he sure fucking did.
“Sure, Acker was running his mouth. He’s been at this a long time. Not surprisingly he knows how to get a rise out of you. Couldn’t beat you on the ground, maybe, so he goes to the next best thing. He makes you lose your fucking temper. Which you did, spectacularly.”
Coach Dell nodded, mild expression on his face still, and Nate let him take over from there. “And you know what’s gonna happen when that goes down in a game?”
Jordan glowered. He didn’t need to answer, because this had been one of the cons on his draft sheet.
Coach and Sterling and him had dug in on all their new rookies, and Jordan’s temper—on and off the field, on top of his stupid antics—had been an undeniable red flag.
But their GM and Coach Dell, too, had thought they could work on it.
Could fix it, even. “Lots of guys think they’re hot shit in college,” Dell had pointed out quietly.
“And they adjust to the NFL fine. He just needs a strong mentor.”
Nate had stupidly assumed that would be Sterling but of course it hadn’t been.
“I’ll tell you what happens,” Coach said when Jordan didn’t answer.
His tone had grown firmer. Not quite steely, but intent.
The tone he used when you were going to pay attention to what he said, or else suffer the consequences.
“The guy’s gonna bullshit you the whole game.
He’s gonna push you. And then at the worst moment, when we get a third down stop we really fucking need, he’s going to pull it out, the comment you can’t handle, and you’re going to get flagged.
Automatic first down. And if you really lose it, like you did today, you’re looking at an ejection. Fines. Game suspension, even.”
At least Jordan looked partially cowed by that concise recitation of possible events.
So far, he hadn’t gotten more than a handful of penalties and none of them had been ones they couldn’t ultimately afford.
But that would change.
“And,” Coach Dell added, tone going pure steel now, even though he never once raised his voice, “that is your teammate over there. He’s your brother-in-arms. And if you ever lay one hand on one of your brothers again, I will make you wish you didn’t get up this morning. Is that clear?”
Jordan ducked his head.
“What was that?” Coach Dell asked pleasantly.
“Yes, Coach.” When he raised his head, Nate decided Jordan looked at least mostly contrite. There was still a temper burning in his eyes. Embarrassment, maybe. Humiliation that he’d been called out like that by his coach.
Nate wasn’t sure how he’d respond to that. If it would be now, or if he’d wait, slow-burning coals banked in his stomach.
He’d need to keep an eye.
Fuck. An even closer eye.
Coach Dell nodded, and he walked off.
“Don’t say it,” Jordan ground out.
“I wasn’t going to say shit,” Nate said. “You ready to get back to the drill or do you need another minute?”
Jordan looked over at where Ross was standing, looking fairly relaxed from his posture.
“I’m good,” he said.
“Okay.” But Nate wasn’t going to be stupid and just observe. He wasn’t a linebacker, but he tapped himself into the drill anyway.
Jordan kept it together, at least, and then practice ended.
Nate hoped that he’d heard the last of it from Aidan but on his walk up to the locker room entrance, Aidan swooped in at the last second.
“You handled that well,” Aidan said.
Nate wasn’t sure if he was buttering him up for whatever new interrogation he’d thought up during the last quarter of practice or if he really meant it.
“Mean it,” Aidan added, nudging him with his shoulder. “It’s not easy to defuse a situation like that and have everyone be able to go back to practice like it didn’t happen, but you managed it.”
“That was mostly Coach Dell,” Nate said, but he felt the warmth of the compliment still. Aidan was kind of a pain in the ass, but he was also one of the best leaders he’d ever had the luck to play with.
“Not just him,” Aidan said firmly.
“Well, thanks.” Nate was still bracing for the other shoe to drop.
“About what we were talking about earlier . . .” Aidan looked over at him. “I am happy for you, if you’re happy about this. And I have to think you are, because I think everyone noticed that you weren’t exactly thrilled about how things had worked out between you two, before.”
“Yeah,” Nate said. There was so much he could say about it, but he didn’t know what he should say. But in the end, when he boiled it down to just, are you happy about this? The answer, no hesitation at all, was yes.
“And,” Aidan added, “that makes things a lot easier.”
Nate froze. “What do you mean?”
Aidan just shrugged. “Well, it did make things like tonight’s get together awkward, but it won’t be anymore, now that you’ll be coming together.”
Nate was still frozen. He wasn’t sure he’d moved—or breathed—in the last thirty seconds. “What?”
He’d known, of course, that this would be necessary.
This thing with Ramsey was going to have to be more than telling people about them and practicing hand holding on his couch while they watched a hockey game.
But he hadn’t really thought about what it would mean to have to pretend to be crazy about Ramsey in front of everyone.
Pretend. Yeah. About that.
It was difficult enough to remind himself that this was all a charade. Nevermind after he had to do everything he craved, deep down in a place he refused to acknowledge.
“Shit, did Levi not talk to you? He was supposed to.” Aidan had the nerve to look mildly annoyed before his expression bled right back into that now typical lovestruck awe that Nate knew the whole team was still trying to adjust to.
“He might have,” Nate said. He’d been preoccupied. “I haven’t checked the group chat.”
“Well, we’re having a thing at my place tonight. Video game tournament of sorts. Pizza. Snacks. That kinda thing.”
“You really are a real boy now,” Nate said.
Aidan smacked him on the arm. “Be nice.”
“That was me being nice.” And also distracting from his current internal meltdown. “And Ramsey’s going to be there?”
“He said he would be. I guess I just assumed you two would be coming together. Did he not mention it to you?”
Nate bit off the comment that he and Ramsey were dating, not attached at the hip, not like some people on this team.
They were supposed to be leaning into this, not fighting against it.
“We’ve . . .uh . . .been a little busy,” Nate said.
Aidan flushed and shot Nate a knowing look. “I know how that is.”
Nate hadn’t meant it like that, like they couldn’t get out of bed and wandered around their lives like lovestruck, sex-drunk idiots. But he supposed if Aidan wanted to assume that, then he wasn’t going to correct him.
“Right.”
“So, tonight. Seven. Don’t get distracted and be late,” Aidan teasingly tossed over his shoulder as he headed into the locker room.
Well, shit.
Now Aidan thought they were fucking all the time. What was going to happen when Wes pointed out that Ramsey hadn’t spent a single night in Nate’s bed yet?
Nate pushed that thought aside. If he spent any more time theorizing—daydreaming—about Ramsey in his bed, he’d be totally fucking useless.
The more pressing issue was why Ramsey hadn’t told him about tonight.
But sure enough when he reached the locker room and his phone, there was a text from Ramsey on it.
Hope you’re ready for our couple debut, it read.
Sure, yes, he’d known this was coming. It was the natural conclusion of the plan he and Ramsey had hatched together. Or, really, the plan Ramsey had hatched and he’d been stupid enough to go along with.
But he’d thought he’d have time to prepare. To shove everything he was not faking deep down and lock it away.
A few hours from now was not enough time to do that. Not even close. Of course, now that Nate was really thinking about the whole thing objectively, a few days or a few weeks might not have been enough time.
You could’ve told me, Nate texted back.
And then you’d panic and declare that you weren’t going.
As Nate stripped off his practice jersey and his pads, he made a face, annoyed at how well Ramsey had read him.