A small smile tugs at my lips, bittersweet and fleeting. I don’t need to stand face-to-face with Brandon—but Byron does. Every single day, he’ll have to look him in the eye, pretending the past never happened. Pretending the wounds Brandon Johns left behind don’t still ache, the scars invisible but impossible to ignore.
I’ll wear mine like a fucking trophy because I survived, and he won’t get the chance to do it again.
“Is Walter celebrating?”
“Lottie.” He places an arm around my shoulder. “We’ll give him a chance. If he doesn’t perform, then we’ll send the fucker packing.”
“That better be a promise.”
12
BRANDON
The momentI walk into the locker room, Coach stops me before I can change.
“BJ and Grieg into my office.Now.”
I toss my bag into my cubicle and follow the Stinger’s team captain into Coach’s office.
“Why haven’t you returned my calls?”
I shrug. “My cell has been turned off.”
“Then turn it the fuck on,” he roars. “This is not something that will go away.”
I shake my head and lean back to stare at the ceiling. “Why? I haven’t agreed to anything. I want to train with the team.”
“Oh, now you want to train and be part of the team,” he snaps.
I glare at him. “I have worked my arse off for this team.”
“Yourass?Yourass? You do whatever it takes to benefit Brandon Johns. Do you hang out with the guys? I haven’twitnessed a game where you cared about cohesion or teamwork on the court unless your stats shined first.”
“Isn’t that what I’m paid to do? We only won certain games because of me.” Shit! That came out wrong. I glance at Grieg, and he looks livid.
“It’s not the standard we’re looking for at the Stingers. We’re a fucking team, and we expected you to gel.” He stops yelling and stares at Grieg. “Johns is being traded to the LA Sharks.”
Grieg leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “Fucking when?”
“This week or as soon as the association approves it.”
Grieg leans back in his chair and clasps his forehead with both hands. “The board has no idea about cohesion. If BJ leaves mid-season…” he jabs a thumb in my direction, “… the team will be in shambles.”
“I don’t want to leave,” I grumble, looking up at Coach.I damn well deserve answers, though.“Why now?”
“Because we lost some games we thought we could win. Thought you would pull us over the line. One in particular was in LA.” He crosses his arms and glares back. “So it comes down to numbers. Notyournumbers. We might be in the eight, but it’s not guaranteed that we’ll make the finals. If we take a financial loss, then you can fix that. LA is offering a substantial amount to take you back.”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t make sense.” The Stingers would only agree if they were offered more than what they paid for my trade. It’s not a viable business deal for a team that already has a dynamic guard and power forwards.
“It does on paper, and it’s the math that counts.”
“Who is replacing BJ?” Greig asks, still sounding pissed.
“No one.” Coach links his fingers on his desk. The bastard doesn’t even look sorry that I’m leaving. “It’s why Ineed you to rally the team and keep us in the eight. I believe you can do it with or without Johns.”
I have never begged in my life, yet I want to fall on my knees at his feet and clasp my hands high in the air. “Coach… is there any way I can stay?”
I standin the center of my apartment, slowly turning in place, letting the reality sink in. By the door, five suitcases sit neatly packed, holding my clothes and anything valuable I could cram inside. Nearby, Chase moves methodically, boxing up my gaming consoles, games, and monitors, which are the only pieces of my life that still feel like mine but I can’t keep.
