“How do you think the team can bounce back from tonight’s loss?” I pan the camera at him, the red line blinking incessantly.
He lifts his head, eyes flicking up to mine. There’s a storm brewing in those glacial eyes – sharp, restless. His hands tightly linked togetheras if he’s barely restraining himself from punching a wall. “By not screwing up plays we’ve practiced a hundred times.”
The words sting even though they’re not for me. I keep my expression neutral, the camera steady.
“And what’s your mindset heading into the next game as a newly appointed captain?”
Ezra leans back on the bench, his eyes narrowing like he’s trying to get a read on me. “You always sound like that when you talk to me,” he notes.
My eyes flit from the screen of the digital camera, which is still recording, to him. “Like what?” I ask, my tone still level.
“Like you don’t feel a damn thing.”
The silence that follows is louder than a thousand words shouted in unison. The words hit harder than they should. I tighten my grip on the camera, feeling the edge press into my palm, the pain grounding me.
The distaste in his eyes makes my heart trip before it finds its rhythm again.
Counting to five, I respond. “I’m just doing my job, Captain.”
The title feels like distance. Professional. Safe.
His eyes flare wide before he laughs–low, humorless. “Right. Your job. Guess that’s all it’ll ever be with you.” He shakes his head, dropping it between his shoulders.
And then, as if his words already weren’t enough, he had to go and plunge the knife deeper.
Ezra stands up and walks right up to me, close enough that there’s hardly any space between us. The skates making him taller than he already is. I have to crane my neck to maintain eye contact.
Boring his eyes into mine, he whispers, “The great Kaeli Reed doesn’tfeel.”
I know if I open my mouth now, I’ll bare myself to him, let him see the vulnerable side of me. So, I hitstopon the recording.
The silence afterwards buzzes in my ears. I nod once, forcing my voice steady. “I’ll send the clip to the PR.”
And then I turn. My steps even and back straight as I stride right out of the locker room.
I don’t look back. Only when the door clicks shut behind me do I let out the breath I’ve been holding since the moment I hit record.
Later that night, while editing the footage, I trim the clip right before he says‘You don’t feel a damn thing.’
Because I do.
God, I do.
And that’s exactly why I can’t show it.
Four
Kaeli
Present
It was a mistake.
Slamming my eighth shot of tequila on the bar, I groan at how loud the music in the club is as it thumps and vibrates through my body while the bartender looks at me with pity.
It all started with me needing a distraction. Now, I don’t have many friends–none at all, actually. I do have Stacy, but she has a family she goes home to every night.
It’s all because of who my brother is. Every girl who ever befriended me did so to get under mybrother. And all the boys who dated me were my brother’s fans and saw me as a concierge for their way into the locker room.
