Kieren
We filed into the locker room tense, sweaty, and pissed off.
No music. No banter. Just the stench of frustration and a first half we’d barely survived.
I didn’t stop walking. Didn’t say a word. Just veered right and shoulder-checked Maddox as I passed, hard enough to make my point.
He staggered a step before turning, full of that shit-eating grin he wore like armor.
“You gonna flirt mid-match again,” I growled, “or you saving it for the locker room?”
Troy snorted. “You jealous or just obsessed, old man?”
I saw red.
Didn’t even think.
I lunged at him, fists clenched before I’d fully registered the motion. Didn’t care that he was half-smiling, didn’t care that the rest of the team was still catching their breath. I was going to drop him right there, cameras or no cameras.
Caleb grabbed my shoulder, Beckett got an arm around my middle. They dragged me back as I snarled, “Say it again, Maddox. I fucking dare you.”
Troy raised his hands like he was innocent, still grinning. “Damn, bro. Didn’t realize your girlfriend came with a leash.”
I nearly broke free.
And then Reid lost it.
A water bottle slammed into the whiteboard behind us, sending a spray of lukewarm water down the wall. The entire room flinched. Even Troy shut up.
Coach stepped between us, eyes blazing. “You want to throw fists? Do it after you stop playing like JV.”
Silence. Reid never lost his temper. I didn't think it was possible to phase him at all.
He looked around the room, daring any of us to open our mouths.
“This team is falling apart,” he snapped. “And it’s not because of a girl. It’s because every single one of you thinks you’re a solo act.” His eyes cut to me. “You want to keep your job, Walker? Act like a damn unit.”
Beckett let go of me slowly. Caleb stepped back. I didn’t move.
My chest rose and fell like I’d just run a full 90. Every muscle in my body was coiled tight. Every thought in my head was loud, messy, her.
Troy slumped onto the bench across from me like he hadn’t just poked a live wire.
I sat down hard.
Elbows on my knees. Breathing through my nose. Trying to pull the anger out of my blood like venom.
Because Reid was right.
We were playing like strangers. Like we didn’t trust each other to hold the line.
And maybe I was the problem. Maybe I couldn’t keep my head straight when Daphne was involved—when someone else looked at her like they thought they had a shot.
I exhaled slow.
Not because I wasn’t mad anymore.
But because I couldn’t afford to let it own me.
