Suppressing those memories, I hurry to shower and change, eager to celebrate with my teammates. This is our turning point. I can feel it, and despite half the team being new this year, we’re going to hold on to the Championship Cup for the second year in a row. I’ll make sure of it.
After checking in with the coaches, I head for the car park with Dane and Jasper. It’s mostly empty now, with only the players’ cars scattered across the bitumen.
Zac’s talking to a couple of girls beside his muscle car, one of them wearing his name on her back. His hands move as he speaks, and I wonder what has him so animated. My chest squeezes as I watch him so at ease with who he is. Girl or guy, I guess it all comes naturally to you when you’re bi.
I’m so focused on my teammate, I don’t notice Jasper and Dane have gone quiet until someone roughly grabs my arm, and I come face to face with my father.
Shit.
“D-dad,” I stammer, wincing at the tight grip on my forearm. “What are you doing here?”
His angry eyes don’t leave my face as he snaps at my housemates. “Excuse me, boys. I need to have a word with my son.”
My stomach sinks at the venom in his tone, but I nod at Jasper and Dane, handing the latter my bag, not wanting an audience for whatever vitriol I’m about to cop. “I’ll meet you guys at Carter’s.”
They exchange a look, but don’t say anything, casting glances over their shoulders as they walk to Jasper’s car.
Wrenching my arm from his grip, I square my shoulders. “We won the game.”
He snorts. “I saw.”
I fight to hide my confusion. “Then what the hell is all this about?” I gesture to the red mark on my bicep.
“I told you not to embarrass the family,” he growls.
“How the f—heck did I do that?” I snap, struggling to contain my anger. “I shut down my player, and we won the game. What more do you want?”
“What’s going on between you and the goalkeeper?”
My jaw clenches. “Nothing.”
“That’s not what it looked like from where I was sitting.”
I throw my hands up in frustration. “Well, maybe you need to get your eyes checked, old man. All you saw was a team celebrating a fucking clean sheet.”
My head snaps back and pain blooms across my cheek before the sound of my father backhanding me reaches my ears. I drop my head, bringing my hand up to cup my cheek.
“Shit, Noah.” There’s a panicked edge to Dad’s voice. He’s never hit me before.
“Hey!” a familiar voice shouts.
I groan.
Fuck. This will end badly.
“What the fuck, Noah!” Zac demands. “Are you okay?”
His strong hand grips my shoulder, but I shrug him off. He needs to get out of here. Now.
“Fuck off, Kincaid. Don’t touch me.”
He reels back like I punched him, his eyes darting from me to my father, who’s watching the interaction intently, likely trying to work out if this guy is banging his son.
I need to fix this, and quick.
Noticing the two girls still standing by his car, I narrow my eyes on my goalkeeper. “Get your arse back to yourgirlfriend,” I tell him, nodding towards his car, emphasisingthe word for my dad’s benefit and praying Zac gets the hint. “There’s nothing to see here.”
His brow furrows, and for a moment, I worry he’s about to open his big mouth. Thankfully, he gives a stiff nod and backs away.
