Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
MADDOX
Two Months Ago
Coach’s Office, The Day After The Semifinal
"You had one job to do. One single, fucking thing"—Coach Kenbrough threw his hat across the room—"and you couldn't get over yourself. You had to be the fucking hero, didn't you?"
I maintained my "at ease" posture. "You told me to lead the team. I did that. We're in the championship."
His face turned a mottled red. "Your shot depended on doing what I told you to. Just follow the plays. The plays I called. Me, the fucking head God-damned coach."
I took a deep breath and let it out. Did my best to keep from laughing. I'd survived drill instructors and CO's with worse bite. Hell, Seager managed to rile me up better than this guy.
"You'll sit the championship game. You and Kid Wonder both. I know you both conspired against me. You think that winning a game like that would get you looks without me?" He pointed at his chest. “I say. I say who gets covered in scouting reports."
"If that's what's best for the team, sir."
"Right," he sneered at me. "Because you care so much for this team."
“I’ve already proven that."
"You proved that you'd rather nail Drakes's ex instead of focus on winning."
I clenched my jaw and tamped down the fight that rose inside me. Don't you fucking talk about Ella. Heat thrummed through my system. The room pulsed with white edges.
"That's why I had Mackey and Lindsom leave you out to dry." He shoved his chair at his desk. "You're just too God-damned dumb to sit your ass down and be injured."
And he just admitted he knew what those asshats were up to. Un-fucking believable.
He pointed at the blind-covered window of his office. "But then that loose cannon Seager took your side, and I couldn't count on him, either." He narrowed his eyes as he lowered his arm. "At least you were predictable."
I seethed through clenched teeth. "Are we done, sir?"
"Yeah, you're done. You are completely, one hundred percent over. You'd better hope you and Seager did the job. Because if this school renews my contract, I wouldn’t keep you as the team water boy next year."
"I'd say that's a pretty big 'if' right now, Tom." A tall man wearing a maroon Booster blazer stepped into Kenbrough's office. Scott the trainer and Seager trailed after him.
"Not now, Jake," Coach barked and patted his white board. "I've got a million and one things to sort out before the championship game." He pressed his eyes closed and scratched at his forehead. "Mick's arm's in bad shape.” He opened his eyes and shook his head. “We just can't risk—"
"I already heard…everything, Tom." Jake's palms slid against each other. A large square-shaped band on his right hand looked like the national championship rings in the trophy case.
"And keep me honest, Scott, Mick, Beaux, but it sounded to me like Tom, here, has been tolerating…” His hands moved to lean on the coach’s desk, eyes narrowing as he fixed Kenbrough with a dark look. “hazing."
Coach straightened. His eyes widened.
"Yeah, he knew about those losers on the offensive line threatening Mick." Seager's voice sounded relatively subdued away from the field. “Walked right by while it was happening.”
"The tape from that game, when Mick's arm was broken,” Scott spoke from his position at the back of the room. “Lindsom didn't just release his mark, he stomped on Mick's arm when he was already down."
Jake pivoted to look at his son.
"Even if Coach didn't know Mick was being threatened, the film was obvious."
"Mm, that's what I was afraid of,” Jake tsked and turned his attention back to the coach. "You remember what happened to Penn Southern a few years back, don't you, Tom?"
His face turned white and it was like someone pulled the fight out of him by his toes. He sunk down into his chair. "Jake, I. This isn't a big deal, right? We win the championship, we can just brush all this—"
"Nah, I think we gotta make it a big deal," Seager said with a laugh. "You know me, such a loose cannon, and this guy, with the fucking hero complex." He glanced at me out of the side of his eye. "Probably got more student athletes to save."
I squared my shoulders and looked Coach dead in the eyes. "Semper fi."
Seager rubbed a hand over his face, but I caught the smirk he was trying to hide. "Damned Marine.”
Jake patted Seager's shoulder as he pivoted toward the exit. "Beaux, Mick, hell of a game. Made me proud this weekend—proud of this Strikers team." He grasped the edge of the door like he was holding it open for us. "You boys get going. Let me finish my talk with Tom."
"Yes, sir," I said as I filed past him into the locker room. The rush of air cooled my skin.
"Do you still have that tape?" I turned in time to see Jake with his hand on his son’s shoulder.
“Yeah. I should’ve come to you earlier. I just knew”—Scott lowered his head—“you wanted them to win."
"Not when the cost of…" Jake paused and let out a breath. "You did the right thing coming forward."
Scott nodded, but wouldn’t look up.
"Make sure you cover Mick's return-to-play protocol before he goes." Jake pivoted to shut the door.
“Sure, Dad. I’ve got it.”
We followed him out of the locker room, into the hallway. "We already did your eval. So just take it easy the rest of the weekend. Check in at the training facility before practice on Monday."
I stretched out my hand. "Thanks."
He shook it. "That's my dad."
“We figured that one out, junior.” Seager crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall.
“Not sure what happens from here, but I did what I could to help," Scott said. His mouth turned down on the side and he frowned. "Sorry I—"
"You do more for this team every day than that narcissistic asshat who calls himself 'coach.' You’re a Striker. A real one.” Seager shook his hand and Scott grinned like someone lit him up from the inside out.
“Thanks Beaux,” he said, then turned and disappeared down the hallway.
"I'm not the only one with a hero complex." I fell into step with Seager as he shouldered both our duffel bags. The musty smell of the locker room lingered in the hall.
"I just want to beat your ass fair and square," he groused. "And that dick-for-brains was getting in my way."
"Yeah, sure." We stopped at the exit door. I held up my one good fist.
“Where do you think you’re going? I’ve got your gear and someone’s gotta check on your sorry, old, ass in case your skull finally caves in and you need to go to the hospital.”
I sighed. His dark eyes met my gaze, and he gave me that lopsided grin.
He was fearless, driven, quick to judge and hard as hell to impress.
In his world, he was the best, but he'd accepted a role as my backup—without joining the dregs trying to unseat me as a starter.
Not gracefully, but coarse and raw and challenging me to do better.
I knew a guy like him, once. Didn't make it back from our last deployment, but he saved a lot of lives before he went down. And he'd known…it was probably a losing battle going in. I lost a brother that day. I hoped I'd be around to see this one grow up.
I let out a tired breath. "Wonder if either of us gets to start the next game."
He scoffed. "If one of us doesn't, Strikers or not, we're guaranteed to lose."
February 14
Women's Locker Room
She sat with her legs under her, her body barely wrapped in the towel I kept in my game bag. I lounged nearby in nothing but my birthday suit. We'd laid out our clothes in the direct path of the heater in an attempt to get them closer to uncomfortably damp—instead of waterlogged.
"I can drive my truck down to this end of the parking lot. Get the heater going. Wouldn't be far to run."
Her eyes flit toward my dick, then quickly away. It was already starting to like the attention.
"Do you have anything I can wear? I can't put on my tights, or panties." She wrinkled her nose.
"I have an extra pair of sweats. My gear's almost dry."
She bit her lip as she glanced at my cock.
"I'm starting to feel like I left you unsatisfied."
"What? Of course not!" She flushed a healthy shade of pink. "I mean, I enjoyed it. With you."
I chuckled as a warmth settled into my chest. She was adorable and sexy and mine. But she had also chosen to sit several feet away instead of next to me.
She smoothed the towel over her thighs again—a sure sign that something was on her mind.
But damned if I knew the right words to say.
I'd said everything I could think of. That I didn't want to be a rebound fling.
That I thought I was protecting her. That I wanted her. "Change your mind about dinner yet?"
She didn't look up. "Ah, I don't think that's a good idea. I know it's for charity, so you have to go. But it's still a little damaging, thinking of sharing my date."
My chest tightened. "I can see that. Can I come by, though? After?"
"Tonight?" She kept her eyes down as she fidgeted with the edges of her towel.
A burning lump formed in my throat. "Yeah,” I rasped. “I feel like something's still…off? Or missing. Between us."
She shrugged but still wouldn't meet my gaze. "My season starts next week. By the end of the month, we'll be on our first road trip. We're home two weeks in March and then I'm gone almost all of April."
"I know the drill. Doesn’t help that I'm active in the transfer portal."
"Because of one play?" Her tone turned sharp.
"Game-winning play call. I upstaged Kenbrough, so he benched me, permanently. The fact that there's an investigation in progress…” I sighed. “Several of us are exploring other options. But for juniors, it's not that simple."
"Investigation?" Her eyebrows lifted.
I shrugged. "We're not supposed to talk about it. Lawyers got involved.” Mackey and Lindsom had already been expelled.
“Coach is trying to claim all kinds of crap. Age discrimination, entrapment. Anything to get the school to pay him.” The locker room, since the championship game, had become what we started calling "an administrative zone.
" Many of us had been interviewed, multiple times, as lawyers tried to paint the picture of a patient mentor.
The school and booster club, on the other side, wanted evidence of his bad temperament and reckless actions.
It was a mess. And our whole team knew, any day, we’d wake up to see the fiasco all over the headlines.
"But, you were really hurt, and that's—"
"IED," I said with a loud breath. My fingers found the scar—I stopped, and moved my hand, lacing it with the other one; I tucked them behind my head. "Everything after's a nonevent."
She moved pieces of her wet hair from her cheek and scowled at me. "I don't like thinking about that either. We could have never met."
That warmth flickered and my heart skipped a step. "Like you said before, I'm here now."
"But still…you shouldn't have to deal with all that. The fact that you could hurt them far worse than anything they could do—"
"Is why you like me?" I couldn't help but grin.
She huffed and crossed her arms over her towel. "Maddox.”
"I could've walked away." I shook my head. "I got caught up in the competition." The pipe dream promises. The desire to prove I could be good enough for a pro career. Like him.
"But, it's not ok. That’s not what we're supposed to stand for as athletes. And I could have really damaged Ash's reputation, maybe even his draft opportunity, if I’d wanted."
"You should have. Too many guys like him get away with that shit." I rubbed a hand over my face. "His deeper issues won't magically get better without help."
"I called his dad." She nodded her head slowly. "Told him about Ash's drinking, and that he got rough," she said in a low voice. "I spoke to my coach too. In case Ash tried to make any trouble for the school."
Of course she did. "You never told me."
"He was my problem to handle," she frowned up at me. "You shouldn't have been involved."
I consider myself lucky—to have been there. That I was someone you could rely on.
"But now…” She shifted again. Her fingers picked at the edge of her towel again.
"Something else is bothering you."
"It's just…" She raised one shoulder. "It seems pretty impossible, doesn’t it? This. Us."
I sucked in a breath as a cold pit opened in my stomach. "We'll figure it out."
"But it feels like one of us would have to sacrifice something. Which is kinda more serious”—she spoke to the towel in her lap—"than where we are after a random, steamy, semi-public shower romp."
"Wasn’t random."
Her eyes flicked up to meet mine.
"Be honest." I held her gaze. "This isn't about opposite schedules. You're acting like you're worried I'll leave. Or cheat, maybe?" I swallowed as a tight, suffocating feeling burned across my chest. I have something left I need to say. “But, you already have your happy ending."
One eyebrow lifted. "I don't think what we did in the shower is—"
"You told the flowers that night, you have the self-respect to walk away. I'm the one who'd get left behind."
"Ah, that’s,” she said as she tipped her head to the side, “true, but, I—"
"I'd never do something like that. Mostly because…" I took a deep breath and willed the words out of my mouth. The ones I'd been trying to find a way to tell her for months.
"I'm in love with you."