Chapter 32
Noah
My foot tapped off the floor impatiently.
I’d been sitting in his office for ten minutes. Ten very long minutes.
I’d showered after practice, got dressed, all routine. The locker room was more subdued than normal; his lesson was still very loud long after he’d finished speaking.
I’d almost been at the door when he called my name. I turned back and got the ‘come with me’ gesture. Dante had paused, but I hadn’t hesitated.
I followed the head coach to his office. He’d told me he’d be right back, and then closed the door behind him.
And I was still sitting here waiting. I’d taken my phone out, seen the message from Dante asking if I needed him, and put my phone on silent.
Coach Sutherland walked into his office, closing the door firmly behind him, and took a seat behind his desk.
“Noah.”
“Coach.”
Coach Sutherland sat back in his chair and watched me. I didn’t shift in my seat; I simply watched him back. I had no idea what I was in here for, but I could play poker really well.
“I’m going to be frank with you, Matthews,” he said suddenly.
“Never known you to be anything else, Coach.”
He didn’t react. “I’ve considered letting you go before. You know that.” He said it so matter-of-factly that it softened the blow. “You see, I don’t like troublemakers.”
I almost laughed.
“I knew you were trouble,” he told me, still relaxed like we were discussing the weather. “You have a temper. Seen it on the tape from your high school. Seen it on the tape of the first two years at your old college.”
“Coach.” I neither confirmed nor denied.
“But you haven’t had one punch-up since you joined my team. Not one skirmish on the field at all. You didn’t even throw down against Gray Santo, and I’ve not seen one player not take a swing at that cocky bastard.”
I scoffed at that.
“But my quarterback picks a fight, and you are right there beside him.” He nodded as he spoke.
“Teammates, Coach. And Dante never started it.”
He waved away my words as if I hadn’t spoken. “Dante Spence is a great quarterback. He is going to go, phew—” His hand lifted from the desk, making like an airplane taking off. “If he gets there.”
“If?”
“Accidents happen.” He shrugged. “Seen it all the years I’ve been coaching. Lady Fate steps in and bam,” his hand smacked off the desk. “A career gone.”
I watched him carefully. Was he openly threatening Dante?
“Let’s hope fate has other plans for Dante.”
He made a sound, and I had no clue if it was agreement. “Spence also has an attitude. You—” he pointed at me— “have an attitude, but only on the field. You bunk up with Spence, and suddenly you have an attitude.”
“I don’t—”
“I’m still talking, Matthews.”
“Coach.”
“I lost five guys, five guys who were loyal to this team. Who’d bled for this team, and they got expelled the night you and Dante got bored.”
“Not bored, they started—”
“I’m still talking.”
“Yes, Coach.” I clenched my hands into tight fists.
“You showed today what a versatile player you are. Don’t be surprised if you get to the combine and they draft you as a tight end.”
“I’m a linebacker, Coach. And what do you mean by ‘if’?”
“Lady Fate,” he murmured, looking out the glass partition to the main floor. “Have you seen the posts on social media?”
There was no point lying. “Hard to miss, Coach.”
His eyebrows rose at that. He snorted in derision. “No team is perfect. Every team has its favorites. Some teams there’s a mix, some teams only a handful of players are the focus, and in some teams, only the stars shine.”
I had absolutely no idea where this was going.
“Stars like Spence, Moore, Slater, and even you, they get attention. You notice that some people get all the attention without even trying. Like you.”
“I’m not really very—”
“But you are. And you see it’s a game, and it’s a game you’ve started to play.”
“Coach? I’m not sure why I’m having this conversation with you. It’s not easy to follow.”
He smiled. It wasn’t pleasant. Coach Sutherland sat forward, his fingers steepled in front of him.
“I really, really, fucking hate people who play coy with me.”
I opened my mouth to speak and closed it again as I saw the anger in his eyes.
“You like trouble. Your history shows it. Your fight in the bar shows it. You walking out of the dean’s house on a Sunday afternoon shows it.”
Shit.
“The dean’s house, Coach? I can explain—”
“You fucking the social media staff member shows it.” He sat back.
“You’re young, full of fire,” his gaze was almost pitying.
“But I’ve coached football for thirty years, and I’ve seen every variation of you there is come through my locker room.
You’re young, good-looking, got a chip on that shoulder, demons inside waiting to get out, and like every young guy with too much aggression, you need to either fuck it out or fight it out. Sometimes it’s both.”
“Coach I—”
“I will let you know when you can speak, Matthews.”
I bit my tongue.
He held up his hand and made sure he had my whole attention. I don’t know where else he thought it was right now. I was rigid and locked on him.
“I had a puzzle I couldn’t solve,” he told me.
I said nothing because I had no idea where this was going.
“I lose five of my guys,” he dropped a finger. “I have QB10 giving me fucking attitude, and then he starts dating the dean’s daughter.” Another finger down. “Then that journalist girl lures my wide receiver into bed, and suddenly, social media is full of bullshit.” He dropped another finger.
He scowled at me.
“And then you, my versatile linebacker, walked out of the dean’s residence with my hotheaded QB.” He held up one finger. “And then today, I see the way you looked at the media girl, and I saw the way she looked back, and well, the pieces all just fit.”
“How’s that, Coach?”
He leaned onto the desk. “I don’t like people who spy.”
“Says the guy who knows I was at the dean’s residence yesterday?”
He laughed.
“Good one.” He watched me like a hawk watches a mouse. “Tell me why you were there.”
“My brother Tate is at Cedar Hill in Texas, and his high school bully is there too. Tate’s been having trouble, and I offered to help, but he didn’t want my help.
He challenged the guy, they tussled, and unfortunately, he broke the guy’s arm.
Tate got suspended for a week, and that will be on his record.
I went to the dean to ask for advice on how to appeal to Tate’s school for leniency. ”
Coach Sutherland made a face. “It’s easier when it’s true, isn’t it?”
“Coach?”
“To be righteous.” He sat back again. “I know why you were there, I know all about Tate’s fight. I know you told the truth.”
“Okay?” How the fuck did he know? “Because you trust me, Coach?”
He snorted. “Because I keep tabs on all my players, and their . . . wayward siblings.” He smiled, and it was pure malice. “It’s a small world, Matthews. Cedar Hill’s dean used to coach with me.”
And their siblings? He knew about Dante’s sister? He knew about Tate? Fuck, he knew so much more than he let on. He was keeping tabs on us.
“So why don’t we try this. Tell me about you and the media girl.”
“There’s nothing to tell, Coach.” I kept my posture the same, my tone, everything.
He nodded slightly. “Let’s do that one more time, make me believe it.”
“I really don’t have anything to say.”
“See, I have an issue with that. I think you have plenty to say.”
“Coach Sutherland, I’m here to play football.”
He pointed at me. “I believe that.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “But unfortunately for you, Matthews, I am also not blind.”
“Coach?”
“I hate the after-party.” He didn’t hide his glee. “I despise the schmoozing and the idle chitchat. It makes me nauseous.”
“That’s a pity, Coach. I imagine you have to attend a lot.”
“I do.” He didn’t give one fuck that I was faking sympathy. “I also duck out of them a lot. The arts building in particular has a lot of places to, well, let’s not beat around the bush, hide.”
I dreaded what was coming next, but I kept my face a mask of calm.
“I’ve only been in it once, Coach.”
He smiled. “I saw you sneak away with the dean’s daughter, and I knew Spence is too damn possessive to share, so I thought she might have a spot for you to hide.”
Share?
“And I know where I like to go, so I went to the bathroom, and on my way there, I saw the media girl, Briar, walking down the hallway.”
Fuck.
“And I saw the dean’s daughter come out of that small study right down at the very bottom of that hallway.” He watched me closely. “And then I heard . . . nothing.”
Thank you, Jesus.
“And isn’t that strange? That two people could be in the same room, two people who know each other, and not speak one word?” He cocked his head to the side. “Unless, of course, they weren’t talking.”
I held his stare, saying nothing.
“And I thought, okay. It’s not my business. Maybe in my old age, I’m going deaf. It’s a party, people do dumb shit at parties all the time.”
I almost choked on the bubble of hysteria that was slowly rising.
“So I went back to the party.” His eyes gleamed. “And then a very freshly fucked Ms. Holmes came back to the party too.”
“I didn’t have sex with her.”
“Then.” His tone was final. “But I also know where she lives.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a print. It was me going into Briar’s building the night of the party. The next picture was me coming out of her building the next day, in the same clothes, looking a little rough for wear.
“I think they call this the walk of shame? Is that right?”
I looked at the pictures. “You always creep around at night taking pictures of your players, Coach?”
His eyes twinkled. “Only the stars. You wouldn’t believe what some of my team do when the sun goes down.”
He took the picture of Dustin? Fuck. Did he take Jason’s?
“It’s hard keeping a locker room in check,” he said softly. “Some need a strong word, some need a strong incentive.” He tapped the picture. “What do you need? I show this to the dean, your girl’s gone.”
“I—”
“And then you know, I thought about it,” he cut me off. “Maybe it’s love.” He shrugged. “Who am I to interfere with young love?”
“Fuck you.”
He laughed.