My face flies to hers. “What? Yes, you are.”
She ignores me. “I should step back.”
“Step back?” Doug asks.
“I blurred lines?—”
“No, you didn’t!” I say, angry that she’s still protecting Jake, but even angrier that she’s protectingme. “Sir, it was my fault, not hers. Scottie doesn’t know how to let people take the fall for their own actions.”
“What actions are those?” Doug asks. Scottie’s gaze sharpens, but there’s no other emotion on her face.
“Nothing actually happened. I begged her to break up with Jake and give me a shot. She said no. This isn’t what it looks like.”
“Son, I don’t care what it looks like. I care about what’s really happening here. Did you pursue Ms. Quinn while she was dating Jake?”
“No—” she starts.
“Yes,” I blurt over her.
Doug exhales. Leans back in his chair and shakes his head. “This changes everything.” He looks at us both in turn, shaking his head more and more. “You’re both liabilities right now.”
Scottie’s still looking at Doug. Her jaw is set, her hands are still, and she hasn’t glanced at me once since I came in. Not in anger. Not in relief. Not in anything.
I would give anything for her to look at me.
She doesn’t.
“I’ll step back,” Scottie says, her spine stiff. “Lucas can have a different coordinator?—”
“Different coordinator?” Doug interrupts. “I’m not sure what Lucas’s future is with this organization right now. I told you both that I need team players. I need a clubhouse that clicks, not clashes.” His eyes jump between us. “I really hoped you had it in you, Fischer. I like your sister. I like your dad. I thought I liked you.”
“I understand,” I say, feeling so much worse than sick. I’ve disappointed everyone I love. Hurt everything I care about. “I’ll start packing.”
“Not today, you won’t. That’ll cause a stir of its own.” He spins in his chair and looks out at the stadium. “Go back to the hotel—separate rooms—and don’t talk to anyone. Not players, not staff, not media. Fischer, I don’t want you even looking at your own twin. Stay out of the spotlight, stay off social media, and wait for me to call you.”
“Yes, sir,” I say.
Scottie just nods.
Doug opens the door for us and closes it behind him. We step out of the office, turn a corner, and nearly run into Jake standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, jaw tight.
We all stop.
“You set us up!” I yell, stalking toward him as he backs up.
“It wasn’t me,” Jake says weakly. And it’s that weak refusal to take responsibility that sets me off.
I rush him, grabbing his collar and pushing him hard against the painted cinder block wall, where he hits with a thud. But Scottie’s soft “don’t,” stops me before I drive my fist into his face.
“You’re the only person who had that picture, Jake,” I say. “You lied to the entire world to save face, you pathetic piece?—”
“I didn’t leak it! I sent it to Agent,” Jake blurts. “I sent it to Agent because I was angry. I thought he’d send it to Scot! Maybe … pressure her to keep things going,” he admits.
“You what?” I push him harder against the wall.
“I didn’t think about what it would mean! I just … I wanted her to feel it. Agent kept saying there was too much at stake for me to lose. He told me he’d handle it,” Jake says. “I didn’t know he’d sell it. I swear, I didn’t know he’d spin it like that.”
“That’s convenient,” I say, squeezing his cotton shirt in my fists. “You never seem to know. Meanwhile, Scottie keeps taking the fall for you again and again. How dare you? She scheduled it for three in the morning, Jake! Three in the morning, and your agent was immediately making calls. Had you already sent him the picture, or did you wait till she posted this?”
