“That’s not an excuse,” I say through gritted teeth.
Worry flickers in her eyes. “You would have punched him for me. That’s what I am afraid of, you know.”
No, fuck this all to hell.
I take her face between my palms and look her deep in the eyes. “You’re mine. And no fucking man will hurt or disrespect you. If anyone has a problem with that, they should come to me. I have reined myself in and I will continue to do that to an extent. Butyou’re what matters the most to me. The worst they can do is suspend me.”
She gulps. “You’re being careless for something?—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. We both know it would be utter bullshit.”
She keeps her mouth pursed, thankfully.
I am angry, exhausted, and this longing makes every heartbeat heavier.
“Fine. Stubborn,” she huffs, drawing a smile from me.
I drive us home and by the time I park, she’s snoring lightly.
Rounding the car, I slip my arms under her back and knees. Lifting her up, I carry her inside. When the elevator doors open, I am torn between just bringing her to my place, but I don’t.
I should fucking win a Super Bowl for my self-control. But it gets tested to the brink of mania. I am only human after all.
I place her weight on my other arm, keeping her up with a knee as I open the door to her apartment.
Carrying her to bed, she mumbles, “Undress me.”
I help her out of her bridesmaid T-shirt and fluffy tutu skirt, then I snatch a T-shirt from the chair. It has my name on it, making the constant weight on my chest more bearable.
I place a kiss on her forehead, inhaling her before I bring her a glass of water and some Advil. Stealing one more glance, I go home.
I am about to change when my phone blows up. I knew it would get out, but fuck, not this fast.
Some of my teammates have sent me links to various online gossip channels that are covering the story. They make it sound as if I indeed punched that asshole. What unsettles me the most is that they found out who Lilly is. Fuck. She values her privacy and now she’s plastered all over the news—because of me.
Roman calls me, saying, “Are you okay, man? What happened?”
A new wave of anger hits me, and I blow out a heavy breath. “That asshole put his hands on her and disrespected her.”
“It doesn’t look good. You remember what Coach said at the beginning of the season about staying out of the limelight.”
I let out a string of fucks.
“Just explain to him why you reacted like that,” he suggests.
“I have to talk with him, regardless,” I sigh, the sound ringing with acceptance.
“Some witnesses said he started it and said things about her. They even praise you for what you did.”
“Yes, whatever. I don’t regret it.”
The next morning,my teammates chat me up in the locker room. It ends when Coach steps inside, carrying his gloomy mood. I expect a dark fog to envelop us. His heated look could incinerate me into ash. Fuck, I am in trouble.
His eyes do a crazy thing, zipping from right to left, but then he inhales deeply to calm down. Pursing his lips, he says, “Let’s head to practice.”
I go through every grueling drill he has in store for us. I have the best team possible because they take it, even though they are all aware he’s punishing me.
By the end of practice, we’re all on our backs on the field, the echo of groans and grunts heavy in the air.
