Chapter 20
Rhys groaned as he rolled to the edge of the bed. His head was pounding, and the alarm blaring on his phone wasn’t helping.
“Where are you going? Just shut that off and come back to bed.”
Rhys blinked at the person in his… not his bed. Fuck. he’d gone and done it again, hadn’t he? He didn’t remember their name. Hell, he barely remembered leaving the club with them.
“Can’t,” he said, his voice coming out gritty. “I have to get going.” If that alarm was going off, it meant he didn’t have much time. He must have slept right through the others.
The person let the sheet fall to their waist, as if exposing that skin would entice him back to bed. Maybe if it didn’t feel like his brain was trying to beat its way out of his skull. Or if it didn’t feel like he was crawling out of his skin.
He wouldn’t have time to get to his apartment and take a shower. He’d need to go straight to the clubhouse.
Alfie would know exactly what he’d been doing the night before.
So what? Hadn’t Alfie made it perfectly clear what he thought of Rhys? Alfie didn’t want him, so why should he even care?
“You sure you don’t want more of this?” They ran a hand down their chest and stomach. “You couldn’t get enough last night.”
He could barely remember last night. “I’m sure.
I can’t be late.” That certainly wouldn’t help him convince Turner he needed to be put back on the starting lineup.
He fumbled out his phone as he tugged on his jeans and searched for his shirt.
He ignored all the notifications and went straight to the rideshare app.
He’d known he wouldn’t be in a state to drive the night before.
Everything he needed was in his locker at the clubhouse, and he couldn’t afford to waste any time.
He definitely needed coffee. He didn’t think the sludge at the clubhouse would cut it. Did he have time to swing by the coffee shop before practice? He would be cutting it close. He might have to risk the skipper’s ire for it.
Not like he could make things much worse for himself.
He shook off the jinxing thought as a car pulled up to the curb. Once inside he had the driver take him to the coffee shop and wait. “Five minutes,” he promised.
The driver glanced at the line inside the coffee shop. “I’ll give you ten.”
Rhys cracked a smile for the first time that morning. “Thanks, dude.”
She shot him a glare. “Don’t push your luck.”
He gave a quick salute and jumped out of the car, hurrying into the coffee shop. He kept his sunglasses firmly in place, not wanting to risk the brightness of the lights exploding against his eyeballs.
“Another Fruity Blast?” Mel asked when they’d taken care of the customers in front of him. “I didn’t expect you to keep coming in here for it. And I think we’re out of banana syrup.”
Rhys pressed a hand to his chest. “No banana. What dystopia is this?”
Mel’s lips tipped up. “I don’t know. Could be an utopia. If you don’t care for bananas.”
“I love bananas,” Rhys said. “Not all of them, and not all the time, but I do enjoy a good banana.”
“I would have figured you more for a melon kind of guy,” they said, but they were already mixing up his drink.
“Oh, I love a good melon, too. Or peach. Give me any variety of fruit, and I’m a happy guy.”
“Not picky, huh?”
“When it comes to my… fruit, I only ask they not treat me like a terrible person.” Apparently that situation in Massachusetts was still sitting poorly with Rhys. He wished he could brush it off. “And listen to me when I say I don’t like something.”
Their mouth turned down. Shit. He’d gone and messed this up. Before they could tell him what they were thinking, he handed his card over.
When Mel handed it back, they held his gaze. All the teasing left it now. “Whoever you’re with, that’s the least they should do. Everyone deserves that.”
Rhys wanted to say something glib, but the words died on his tongue. He simply nodded and took his drink. His driver looked at her watch when he got back in.
“Cutting it close.”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I always do.”
“This is bullshit.”
Rhys glanced over at Caleb. He wouldn’t call winning the game bullshit.
Even if they’d barely held on to it. No thanks to Rhys.
He’d spent the whole game in the bullpen, squatting at one end when the phone rang calling for relievers to loosen up.
It had left way too much time for his brain to ping around.
By the ninth inning, he was sure he’d be called into the skipper’s office and told he was being released.
They didn’t want to deal with him any longer.
That wasn’t the way it worked, but that didn’t keep his brain from going there.
The skipper had been grinning when he’d come into the locker room. He hadn’t said a word to Rhys. Maybe he was biding his time.
Caleb was staring down at his phone. Shit. Rhys hoped there wasn’t an article out already. He hadn’t even overheard the usual asinine questions. He might have missed something.
“What’s the matter?” he asked Caleb. “There can’t be an article up from the game. The vultures barely just left.”
Caleb let out a rough laugh and rubbed a hand over his face. “No, it’s not the game. They’d stopped writing about how me being trans affects the team. And me being here is just for optics. It’s that center I volunteer at.”
“What about it?” Caleb talked about it a little bit.
Rhys knew it was for queer kids to drop in after school, and probably all day now during the summer.
It certainly seemed like a good thing. If something like that existed when he was younger…
Right, because the families he’d lived with back then would have let him hang out with those kinds of people.
Caleb turned his phone to show him the picture on his screen. A room was completely wrecked, and the words scrawled across the one wall made Rhys want to throw up. “Who did that?”
“Don’t know,” Caleb said. “The email just said they filed a police report and the center will be closed until they can get it cleaned up and some minor repairs made.” Caleb looked up at him, then to the other players who had gathered.
“This place does a good thing, for kids who are often overlooked. They need our help. I’m letting them know we have an early game tomorrow, and Monday morning available. If anyone wants to come with me—”
He couldn’t finish before there were several shouts of “We’ll be there” and “fuck those assholes”. Rhys nodded at Caleb. “We’ve got you.”
“I knew I could count on you.”
Rhys turned to his locker, feeling like everything inside of him was suddenly unsettled. Well, that’s stupid, a voice whispered in his head. Who would ever think they could count on you?
No one for very long. He knew that. He had them fooled right now, but soon enough he was sure they’d figure it out.
Rhys shook off that thought, or at least he tried to as he finished changing. He let a couple other teammates pull him into a playful argument. It would be just fine. Everything was going to be fine.
He just needed to figure out how to keep this from slipping through his fingers.