“Fuck yeah.” We bump chests.
“I want to see it, not hear ya shit talk.”
I turn around to a guy with dreads. Inked dark skin and a face that tells me he doesn’t tolerate bullshit. “You’ll see my skill soon enough.” I hold out my hand. “BJ.”
He knuckles my hand, but there is no shake. “I know who you are. Stay outta my way.” He bumps my shoulder as he pushes past, and I give a questioning look to Simpson.
“Meet River. Not everyone is glad you’re back.” He nods over his shoulder, but it’s not in River’s direction.
I turn just as Byron barrels toward me, his wide shoulders squared, his expression dark and furious—a storm I’ve been dreading. His glare pierces through me, and I instinctively raise a hand to calm him, but he swats it away with a sharp slap. The sting jolts through my fingers, forcing me to pull back, my heart pounding as the moment unravels.
“A word,” he grunts out.
I want to flick the pain away, but I don’t know if the guys are watching. So I follow him back into the tunnel, passing Leroy, who offers a smile.
“No one is to come in here,” Byron snaps.
Leroy nods obediently. “No worries, man.”
Byron enters the locker room first and yells, “Out. Now.” A few of the younger guys I haven’t met scurry past.
Christ, should I call Ewan in case he takes this too far?
He closes the locker room door when the last dude runs out. “Take a seat, BJ.”
BJ, not Brandon.A positive sign.
“I’d rather?—”
“Sit.” His eyes rage, so I do what he asks and not poke the bear.
“Someone up there likes you.” He points up, and I knowhe’s not talking about heaven. “My guess is it’s slime bag, Walter.”
I don’t agree or disagree.
“On paper, it makes fucking sense, but in here…” he thumps his chest, “… none.” The way he is staring, it’s like laser beams in an execution. “The way I feel about you doesn’t compare to how Lottie is feeling when the only guy she loved destroyed her.”
I pep up a little. We will get through this. I can fix whatever I broke.
“Don’t fucking look at me like that because there is no second chance. If you go near her again, I will fuckingendyou.”
Jesus.
There are so many things I want to say. We are adults. Charlotte can make her own decisions. But the right thing to say is, “Sorry.” His fiery gaze meets mine. “For everything.”
“A little too late.” He paces back and forth. “While we are professionals, and we’re playing for the same goal, I’ll do what is expected and treat you like any other teammate. The moment we walk out those doors…we. Are. Not. Friends.”
I nod.
My heart fucking pounds.
My throat filling with infinite apologies.
If only…
Two words that could have changed my world.
He rips open the door with force, then turns back to me. “You better help get us a championship, or your return will be for nothing. And then I’ll ensure you are discarded in the way you abandoned us.”
