“Positive.” I shoved my hands in my hoodie pocket, tried to keep my face still even as heat crept up my neck. “You’re wasting your time.”
“Hmm,” he said mildly. “I’ve heard your father’s name come up a few times. He’s been around the team a lot this season, hasn’t he?”
My jaw locked. “He’s a proud dad. Comes to games. He’s not around any more than other parents.”
“Right,” Carrow said, still writing. “Just making sure.”
My pulse was thundering so hard it drowned out everything else. “Look, I’ve gotta go. Practice ran late.”
He raised his brows, unbothered. “Sure thing. Just thought I’d ask.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, already walking away.
I could feel his stare between my shoulder blades all the way across the lot. I didn’t look back. My hands were clenched so tight in my pockets my knuckles ached.
By the time I reached my car, my pulse hadn’t slowed. I climbed in, slammed the door, and just sat there for a minute, breathing through my teeth.
What the fuck was I going to do?
I pulled out my phone; my thumb hovered over Dad’s contact in dread for half a second before I hit call.
He answered on the second ring. “Well, look who it is,” he said sarcastically.
“Cut the crap,” I snapped. “A reporter just cornered me outside practice. Said there are rumors someone on the team’s tied to a gambling ring.” My voice dropped to a hiss. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Dad?”
There was silence. Just long enough to confirm what I already knew.
He finally sighed, all patronizing patience. “Matthew, we need to talk about Kenton’s offer?—”
My grip tightened. “Are you serious right now?”
“You need to think rationally,” he interrupted, his tone edging into that smooth, reasonable cadence that always made me want to punch something. “You’re sitting on an opportunity most players would kill for. Kenton’s connected; he could set you up for life. And the information he’s asking for isn’t compromising anything. It’s smart business?—”
I hung up.
The call ended mid-word, his voice slicing off clean.
For a second, I just stared at the screen, my reflection flickering in the dark glass—jaw tight, eyes wild.
I scrubbed a hand over my face, taking deep breaths as I tried to calm down.
But calm wasn’t coming.
If this grew, if that reporter started digging, if the NCAA got wind of it, if Kenton decided to push this…it could destroy everything.
I’d told the guys about that dinner the night it happened. After Jace picked me up, he and Parker had sat with me in silence while I tried to figure out how to breathe again. They’d promised it would be fine. That I’d done the right thing.
Later that night, I’d gone to that house party just to get drunk enough to forget. I’d wanted noise—music, people, anything to drown out the sound of my dad’s voice and erase the image of Kenton’s smug smile.
And then I’d seen Ophelia…and I’d basically forgotten all about it.
I was definitely thinking about it now, though.
It felt like a lit fuse, hissing closer by the second.
I couldn’t let it reach Jace or Parker…or anyone else on the team.
And I definitely didn’t want it touchingher.
