Molly shrieks as the two fall to the floor, rolling back and forth, both of them grappling for the top to punch the other. I heave a sigh, stomping around them for Paisley’s hand. A few people—players and workers—rush to the idiots wrestling on the floor and finally pry them apart.
“What the fuck?” one of the other players says, eyes wide, head on a swivel as he takes it all in.
Some of the wives and girlfriends whisper behind me. I hear my name but can’t make out anything else as I comfort Paisley, who is confused and shocked.
I am too, but it hasn’t quite hit me yet. Like I’m in an out-of-body experience, watching it all from the sidelines.
But then again, from the video that hits the internet seconds later, I can watch it as many times as I want in my own body.
The snarl on Erik’s face. The way Camden’s fist meets hischin. The resounding shout of “We’re done!” as they’re carted away from each other.
That’s what it feels like.
Erik and Camden are done.
The team’s done.
And possibly the best thing to ever happen to me is done too.
CHAPTER 31
CAMDEN
The aftermath was worsethan the actual fight itself. But you wouldn’t know it from the way every hissed insult and punch landed, according to the angle of the video that made sure our little wrestling match would be immortalized on the web for all eternity.
Erik and I had been dragged apart by Thad Reise, our kicker, and Josiah Beck, a defensive back, along with two stadium attendants. The O-line coach all but carried us to Coach Roberts’s office by the scruff of our necks like we were the misbehaving kittens of an impatient cat, hanging out of her mouth.
Not unsurprisingly, Roberts ripped us a new one. Tore our heads clean off and then shoved them up our asses. Then ordered us to “figure your shit out before you lose this season for everyone.”
Erik took it stoically, not saying a word, then left with a single nod.
Me, on the other hand? I felt like I had to say something.
“Coach, it wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“My quarterback and my tight end fighting in the halls is not that big of a deal?”
“It won’t affect our play, I mean.”
He plunked down in his chair like he suddenly couldn’t stand another second. “That’s where you’re wrong.” He scrubbed his hands over his face before meeting my gaze, disappointment wafting off him in such big waves that it threatened to knock me over. “I’ve been down this road with you before, and quite frankly, I can’t trust you when you say it won’t affect your play.”
“I—”
Coach shook his head, pointing to the door. “Talk to Pearce, get your shit in order, and don’t come back until whatever is going on between you and Rivera is put to bed.” Then he reached into one of his desk drawers to retrieve a bottle of Tums and chewed a few pills, mumbling, “Close the door on your way out.”
So I left and closed the door on my way out, yet again at the center of a mess. The problem child. The Founders’ fuckup.
Now, I open my door to Malcolm, whose shoulders rise and fall on a deep breath like he’s tired already.
Same, bro.
I gesture for him to enter, and I lead him to the living room where Nadine’s reading on her iPad. She’s mostly been ignoring texts and phone calls from her family, all of them attempting to understand what’s going on, but at this point, neither one of us knows.
I expected Erik to be pissed when I eventually had the conversation with him about Nadine and me, but I did not at all expect the level of anger. I know he’s upset we lied, I know he feels betrayed by me, I get it.
And yet, I wasn’t going to let him talk to Nadine the way he did.
You want to call me names? Been there, done that.
