Breathe.That space inside my chest continued to harden.Dammit, he hit me in the solar plexus. Bastard.
"I thought we were friends." The mud-covered version of Ella crossed her arms and glared.
"Leave her out…of this," I croaked as I tried to straighten. But my chest burned around stone-carved lungs.
"Hey, cupcake, you want to know why we lost the championship game? You. Why his arm was broken? You."
I managed to suck in half a breath. "She wasn’t…” I wheezed. "Nothing to do with it."Come on, breathe."Drakes."
"Yeah, so what, she's Drakes's girl."
"I’mnota fucking possession.” Her cleat squished into the mud. “And that whole thing is ancient history anyway."
"It’s not to him." Seager stabbed his finger at me. "He’s been living with it every day. In the locker room. On the field. The coach breathing down his fucking neck."
"I broke up with AshbeforeI met Maddox. And Maddox had no idea. All he did was what any decent human being would. And not let a drunk moron do something disgraceful."
"Oh, disgraceful." He glanced at me out of the side of his eye as he gave an exaggerated head nod.
I seethed at him.
"Maddox and I weren't even together. He didn’t…” Her voice pitched to a quieter tone. "He wasn’t interested in me like that."
My stomach dropped to the floor. Seager glared twin laser beams through me, then that stupid loudmouth of his curved into a lopsided grin.
You fucker.
"You see what happens when you hold back?"
Hot and cold washed over my skin as my lungs finally pulled in air. A million thoughts crashed through my head, but no words would form. How could she think?—
"If you’re gonna take the heat for it, you should’ve at least gone for the girl,” Danny called out from the sideline.
"Who the hell broke his arm? Why did the coach let this happen?" She shoved Seager in the chest. He stepped back. She shoved him again. “Are you grown men or a bunch of oversized toddlers?"
He grinned as he pointed to her. "Redheads are feisty."
He leaned down into her personal space. "Hey, Red. You know the difference between this guy and Drakes?"
"There's no?—"
"Your party-pants boyfriend always had an excuse."
"Ex-boyfriend. Emphasis on theexpart."
"I watched tape. Lots and lots of tape. Wanted to know everything about this team, this coach. And I noticed that whenever the score got too far out of reach, Drakes would suddenly 'get injured,' so he could sit, give up, let someone else face losing."
"I don't care about?—"
"Imagine every time you're put in the game, it's a losing battle. Takes some real grit." Rain coursed down Seager's face. Eyeblack mixed with the water on his face, as if he were crying black tears. "That's this proud idiot over here."
He straightened, crossing his arms over his jacket. "He's the only one on the team worth challenging. And the only God-damned leader this team's had—the entire time Drakes ran around acting like he was some fucking gridiron god."
Her eyes met mine. My lungs decided they were done trying to save me. There was no air.
"Party-pants will always bolt when times get tough. Butthe real onesare the ones who fight for you, even when it's hopeless. And they're the only ones who matter." He turned to look at me. And of all things, Beaux Seager actually gave me a salute.
Maybe I'd already lost consciousness…
