Chapter 35 #2
I told him what I’d told the others, keeping my voice low. When I was done, he clinked his bottle off mine.
“Well played.”
Was it?
His eyebrow rose, and I realized I’d said it out loud. “You think you fucked it up?”
“No.” I reached for some chicken. “I don’t know.” I tossed the wing back in the box. “He had me cornered, and I had to think on my feet. I didn’t get time to think it all through.”
He took a piece, avoiding the one I’d had in my hand. “It’s his style. He plays the game that way on the field. You know this, Matthews.”
I gave a half-hearted shrug. “Yeah, different in an office.”
“No doubt.” Mason wiped his hands on a paper napkin and took a drink of beer. “I asked her the same thing when she came up with this plan to work here. What did you hope to achieve?”
I stared back at him, at a loss for words.
He nodded and pointed at me with his beer bottle. “Exactly. You didn’t know what the outcome looked like. You hadn’t moved to the success of whatever was happening. Let me tell you something simply. You got the result.”
“I’m calling it a draw,” I muttered, and he snorted.
“It’s not a loss.”
I chewed my inner cheek, and the silence grew between us. “Why are you here?”
“Came to check on my sister.” He signaled for two more beers. “She resigned. I’m here to help her move.”
Move? “Right. Of course.”
“She doesn’t quit well,” he said quietly. “Unlike me, I’ll walk away at the drop of a hat. Bri, she . . . sticks.”
“She’s older and wiser,” I deadpanned, and he gave a hearty laugh.
“You know what we need, Matthews?” he leaned forward. “Shots.”
“Shots?”
He nodded. “You look far too gloomy for someone who won. Let’s perk your ass up a bit.”
“If it was a perky ass you wanted, I think you have the wrong guy. Dustin’s very proud of his butt.”
Mason actually laughed and still ordered shots.
It all got a bit messy, and I think the tequila hit me harder than I expected. At one point, we probably ate more chicken, but I could be lying. The last clear thing I remember was Mason telling me the shot was for Tate.
I know I missed the bus back to campus. I know we were still there close to closing time, and I know my bank account wouldn’t appreciate my binge. Or Coach Holt tomorrow.
I was sitting on a bench on Halston, my head tipped back — not sleeping, definitely not sleeping — when I heard her.
“Jesus Mason.” Then a curse. “Is he sleeping?”
“Not sleeping,” I told them both. “Just resting my eyes.”
“See, he’s resting his eyes.”
“Why are you both drunk?” Briar scolded. “Why are you here?”
“Why is anyone here, sis?”
“Do not start with me, dick. I will walk away right now.” She then contradicted herself. “Get in the car.”
I tilted my head forward to look at her, but I somehow followed through and tilted all the way forward, and only stopped falling off the bench when slim arms caught me.
“Jesus Christ, you weigh a ton,” Briar grumbled.
“Rude. I’m the perfect weight for my height and position.”
I was helped up, and then a stronger arm was around my waist. I was guided into the car by both of them.
“No! Watch his hea—”
I banged my head off the car. “Ow.” I lay down on the back seat. “I’m good, it’s all good.”
“Tell me in the morning, dumbass.”
I heard another thud, and then Mason shook my leg. “Dude, she is not good with drunk people. Zero tolerance.”
“Sounds like B.”
“B?” I felt another whack on my leg. “No nicknames.” I heard another door open. “You have nicknames for each other?”
“What?”
“He called you B.”
She gave a little huff. “Shut up, Mase.”
“That’s a nickname,” I told them triumphantly.
Both of them said ‘shut up’ at the same time, so given they didn’t want to talk, I went to sleep.
I woke up in my bed. Fully dressed. Boots off. Daylight was blasting through the window, and I had no clue how I got home or how I got up the stairs.
After going to the bathroom, I went on the hunt for painkillers.
I met Dante Spence first.
“Hey.”
He got up as I sat down; being vertical was overrated. He handed me a bottle of water and two ibuprofen.
“Thanks.” I downed them both.
“You’re really heavy,” he said simply. “Which I should know, since you’ve sacked me a few times in practice.”
“So people keep telling me.” I rubbed my forehead. “Did I fight?” I asked him. I had no clear memory of seeing him last night.
“No.”
“Cool.” I stood up again. “I need more sleep.”
He didn’t say anything, and I simply went back to my room. When I woke up the next time, I felt more alive. When I went out into the living area, the apartment was empty. I took a shower, brushed my teeth twice, and drank my weight in water, well, until I felt that my thirst was quenched.
Only after all that did I pick up my phone.
I hadn’t sent one text. Thank fuck I wasn’t that sloppy a drunk.
I scanned my texts. I had one from Tate asking me if I was okay. I replied to let him know I was fine.
I lay back on my bed, leaning against the wall, legs stretched out in front of me.
Me: You have a very high tolerance for tequila
I didn’t have to wait long.
Mason: Tell my sister that
Me: I don’t think she’s talking to me
Mason: I wish to fuck she wasn’t talking to me
Me: That bad?
Mason: She’ll be fine eventually
Eventually? I don’t think I was being given the luxury of waiting.
I put my phone down and left them to it. I’d missed all my classes. And training. It was possible Dante had also missed training, that first time I woke up.
I was making all the right moves in the game of friendship.
My phone pinged with another text. I picked it up expecting Mason. Who’d have thought he and I would be the ones talking after all this?
Gray: Still want to be a Saint?
I stared at the phone for a long time . . . the truth was, I no longer knew.
I could move. I knew I could. The Santo guys were different; Gray got me without having more than a handful of conversations with me. As I always said, like recognized like.
But was Gray Santo who I wanted to ‘get me?’
Hell of a player, Cardinal Saints were a good team. I could get them to the championship game. But . . . what did I have to give up to do it?
This team? They’d get by without me.
Dante? Dust? I was sure they would too, and probably hate me for it.
I didn’t want their hatred, but that wasn’t why I didn’t reply immediately.
I knew what held me back. Gray Santo saw my darkness and he didn’t want me to turn away from it, he wanted me to embrace it.
Would it really be so bad if I did?