The room quiets for a moment; everyone stares at me as if I have several heads. Dave raises his brows in question, but remains silent, and after a few moments most everyone goes back to their usual post practices rituals.
But not everyone. Not Warren.
“For fuck’s sake, Rafferty,” Warren responds pissily. “You’re not the only one with a hard on for her. Calm down.”
I stare at him, sure that I must have misheard him. “What did you say to me?”
Warren grins, opens his mouth to responds, but then Dave steps between us, his hand on my chest. “He didn’t say nothin’, Ren. Not a fuckin’ thing.”
I continue to stare, willing Warren to repeat himself, wanting to shove my fist right down his throat. Dave hits me on the chest, drawing my focus to him. He gives me a serious look then mutters, “He aint’ fuckin’ worth it, man.”
He’s right. Warren’s not worth being suspended from games and paying fines and having to listen to the rants about appropriate conduct between teammates from Coach.
But Cassidy is.
I push back against Dave, pointing at Warren as I spit out, “Watch what you say aboutmy wife.”
Warren’s eyes widen, and, once again, the room falls completely silent. Dave’s eyes also widen, his raised brows almost reaching his hairline. But he doesn’t release me, if anything he squares off more fully, as if he’s bracing himself for battle.
Warren’s surprise only lasts a moment and then he’s glaring, anger burning in his eyes as he asks, “Your what?”
My sudden forward trajectory moves Dave a few feet before another teammate jumps in to assist, each of them pushingagainst a shoulder. “My wife,” I answer, just a few decibels short of a shout. “Never speak ofmy wifeor else.”
“Or else what?”
Fury boils over inside me, and I lunge, fist raised, only to be pushed back by a few more teammates. Dave remains right there, his hand now on my cheek, turning my head toward him. “Go cool off, Raf. I’ll deal with this asshole.”
I choke on my words, ready to make another lunge as soon as Dave steps away, but another guy just takes his place. They manage to herd me backward then around a corner, shoving me bodily into one of the trainer rooms before creating a human wall in front of the doorway while I pace like a caged animal.
“Ren,” Jake says loudly. I stop pacing, look over at him. “Congratulations.”
“For what?” I snap, still too pissed for rationality.
He smiles slightly then clears his throat as he extends his hand and replies, “On your marriage.”
Not expecting the sentiment, I instantly deflate, eyeing his hand briefly before finally accepting his handshake with a sheepish, “Thanks.”
The others offer their own congratulatory accolades, and I accept more handshakes and pats on the back, feeling the irrational rage slowly start to dissipate.
By the timeI’m allowed back into the locker room it’s mostly empty, the only lingering teammates being the ones who were delayed because they were busy restraining me.
Having finally showered, I manage to put on my pants and then sit heavily on the bench, forearms braced on the tops of my thighs, head hanging low to my chest. The respect and admiration that I have for Cassidy is slowly shifting intosomething warm in the center of my chest which means one thing.
I am royally fucked.
“Want me to leave all the lights on?” Dave asks from the doorway.
“Nah,” I respond tiredly. “You can cut half of them. I’m getting a headache anyway.”
Dave pauses, hand on the light switch. “Want me to wait?”
I wave him off. “I’m alright, you go on now.”
Dave watches me for a moment, obviously not entirely convinced, but then, after a moment he nods, so I add, “Thanks, though. For managing that whole situation.”
He smiles, shrugs. “Don’t mention it.”
“And I’m sorry.”
