Troy fails miserably at hiding a snort behind a cough.
Bryce glares at him until I bring his attention back to me by clearing my throat.
Folding my arms across my chest, my foot taps out an even beat on the concrete floor. “Where to start…where to start…Ah! How about I quote just one?” Clutching my hands dramatically to my heart, I quote, “‘It wasn’t what you thought. Just give me a chance. I can’t stop thinking about you…us. I’d like to see if there’s a chance to fix things.’”
A murmur ripples through the locker room. One lineman mutters, “Damn, the game’s over and QB’s still taking a sack.”
“Maya, we have history. We can work through this,” Bryce pleads.
That’s when I narrow my eyes and decimate him with one brutal slice. “But Bryce. I’m not pretty, and I’m no longer loyal. At least not to you.”
Bryce opens his mouth again, but nothing comes out. The silence that follows is brutal.
Coach’s “Stupid fool” is clearly heard. Troy moves closer in case I need him, but I hold up my hand. I’m not done with this pathetic worthlessness my country idolizes for his ability to throw a ball. It shouldn’t excuse who he is as a man.
And for a while, it didn’t.
“No matter what you say or how you say it, there’s nothing you could do to salvage even a piece of who we were. I refuse to let anything about you define any part of who I am—most especially since your opinion about my looks, my job, and my self-worth means absolute rubbish. Is that understood?”
Bryce doesn’t answer.
“But you forgot something. This—me and Troy being here? It wasn’t about you until you made it about you. It’s about what Troy and I are starting. Together.” I declare aloud to the entire room, not caring if the press can hear me.
Bryce opens his mouth and snaps it shut before stalking off toward the showers, his cleats angrily striking the tile.
I don’t watch him go. I just exhale, slowly, shoulders relaxing as the noise of the locker room rises again.
“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Troy murmurs.
I look up at him, my anger softening into something lighter. “What’s the worst I could do to you? Cook?”
He lowers his voice so only I can hear when he whispers in my ear. I blush bright red at the reminder that my cooking isn’t as much of a punishment as withholding myself.
My rose-colored cheeks are ignored as the players return to celebrating their win. Coach, who has known Troy forever and me since I was first with Bryce, slaps him on the back. “And here I just wanted to say hello and see how you were doing.”
Troy wraps his arm around me, pulling me close to his side. “As you can see, we’re both doing well.”
“That’s an understatement, son. Always good to see you, Maya.” Coach’s eyes twinkle into mine before he lowers his voiceto confide, “And while I can never say this officially, I hope you know you traded up, girl!”
As he walks off, I turn to Troy, exhaling. “Well, wasn’t that fun?”
He pulls me closer and chuckles. “Could’ve gone worse.”
“It could have?”
He recounts, “You just verbally body-slammed the quarterback in front of most major news outlets, the team, half the coaching staff, trainers, and most—if not all of them—cheered you on. I’d call that a win.”
I laugh, the sound shaky. “I didn’t plan to say any of that.”
“Maybe not. But you meant every word.”
“Yeah,” I admit quietly. “I did.”
Later on, social media will blow up speculating about the quarterback’s ex leaving the Lightning’s locker room with their former kicker, whose family owns one of the most sought-after vineyards in Italy.
There will be rumors about whether Troy was with me before I left Bryce.
Rumors if I cheated with him while still together with the Lightning QB1.
