Chapter 5
Oscar
My pulse is thrumming behind my eyes, and the sun feels too bright as I stand in the middle of the kitchen trying to remember where I put my wallet.
“How was your night with Pippi?” Jax asks, wasting no time as he comes out of his bedroom.
“I don’t really remember,” I lie, but give him a sly smile and continue rubbing my temples. Hangovers during the season are usually off limits for me, and right now I am painfully aware as to why I make that rule.
“Word is they’re looking for a replacement for T, and have job postings all over social media. I know it’s still raw, but I didn’t want you to come across it without a heads up.”
Jax is literally the best friend I could ask for. Not just when my world turns to shit, but in every other moment too. I’m beyond thankful for him.
“Thanks for the heads up.” I pat him on the shoulder as I stand. I have to head into the gym for my morning lift.
I upped the weight today, and my muscles burn with every squat. Probably not the best idea, and one Horner would not have approved of, especially given how fucking dehydrated I am, but I need the pain to land anywhere but my heart.
“NOKIA” by Drake echoes through my earbuds as the burn of each muscle fiber intensifies.
It’s a grounded, almost primal sensation.
Each moment a small confrontation with my limits, muscles pulling, each breath getting a little shorter.
There’s grit in it. The track in my ear floats.
It’s not aggressive or high-energy; it’s reflective and intimate.
It makes me feel like I’m walking through a memory, not running from pain.
Which is exactly what I need right now.
I close my eyes and take in the calming effect, hoping it will linger just a few more minutes when I feel a tap on my shoulder.
Horner?
“What’s up?” I ask, pulling one ear bud out of my ear so I can hear him without losing the music all together.
“You ok?” he asks. “You should take it easy.”
The question is simple. The answer, not so much.
“I’m here. I just want to move on, man. Pretend it didn’t happen.”
“Unfortunately, we can’t do that. Ozzie, it happened during a live stream with millions of people watching. PR says you have to give a statement.”
“I’m not saying shit,” I spit out the words like they are sour on my tongue, and in all honestly, they are.
“You don’t have a choice.” His response is sharp.
“The fuck I don’t.”
“Ozzie,” he sighs. “I know this situation is shit, but making a statement to clear up public misunderstandings is written into your contract.”
“Public misunderstanding? What was there to misunderstand? MY GIRLFRIEND was fucking my TEAMMATE. Seems pretty easy to understand to me.”
“All you have to do is make a statement about your excitement for the upcoming game. A quick interview with Sloan. She’s been advised not to bring it up. They just want the fans to see your face, see that you’re ok, that’s the part we want to make sure is crystal clear.”
“So act like it never happened?” I clarify.
“I guess. They just need to show you’ve moved on so fans and the media will too. You know, de-dramatize the situation.”
“Got it. Be a ray of fucking sunshine, like my friend wasn’t balls deep in my girlfriend, and I don’t give a shit.” I don’t know why I’m fighting this. He’s only asking me to do what I was doing last night.
Hide the fact that my heart is a shattered mess on the floor where the shards cut and slice me with every move I make.
“The interview is tomorrow morning,” he says with sympathy in his eyes. I know he is just doing his job, but this fucking sucks.
“Yes sir,” I respond, sarcasm lacing my voice.
From now on, I don’t give a single fuck about anything, and that’s not just going to be a phase, now it’s my fucking blueprint.
“What’s this?” I say holding up a piece of paper he must have set down on the bench next to me. It has the name Maren McCrae at the top.
Maren was the name of our server last night.
“It’s an application.”
“I know.” My tone is clipped. “You’re not even going to let the smell of sex settle before you put someone else in the studio?”
Clearly Jax giving me a heads up didn’t help a damn thing.
I don’t know why I hate the idea of him hiring a replacement, or why I thought he’d wait, but the way my heart aches at the idea is almost unbearable.
I have to get the fuck out of here.