A loud ruckus breaks out behind me as T-Bone and his gang enter. He calls out, flexing his arms low in front of him like he scored the winning touchdown.
Ryder’s gaze shifts beyond me, but she doesn’t move. “Well, that completes the picture,” she says quietly.
My shoulders sag. “Let’s go.” I turn, wanting to avoid what’s coming.
I attempt to lead the way out, but of course, T-Bone slithers into my path, appearing as if he landed on a chest full of gold.
“Yo, man. What is this?” His last word hits that high pitch as his eyes linger over Ryder. “You said you had plans. I didn’t know it wasthesekinds of plans.”
“Let’s go,” I tell Ryder, trying to push by him.
His giant frame steps in my way. “What’s the hurry, man? Bring her. The more the merrier.”
“Yeah, no.” Ryder’s tone is crisp and clear as she grabs my wrist, tugging me right around him.
She immediately drops my arm and steps behind me, putting space between T-Bone and me.
“Ahh. Rocket Boy is celebrating tonight, boys!”
Whistles and catcalls erupt behind me, but I ignore them, although I have no doubt Ryder will have something to say about them.
She matches my pace as I march toward the parking lot. “What the hell was that? Rocket Boy?”
“He’s a dick and runs his mouth constantly.”
“And you let him talk to you like that?”
Yep. I’ve become a complete and total pansy ass since moving to Miami.
She stops, but I don’t want to hear whatever it is she has to say.
But I’m gonna.
I turn back toward her. “This is my job. Nothing good will come from getting in his face. That’s what he wants.”
“Is this what you meant when you said there were some players who had an issue with you being on the team? How long has that been going on? That jackass bullying you?” Her hands shift to her hips, and she looks pissed. “Matthews.” She says my name, demanding an answer.
I hold up my hand. “Look, guys in the locker room are full of themselves. All the time. That’s not new.”
Her face and posture tell me she’s unconvinced.
I glance around to make sure no one is paying attention or listening. “These guys, especially T-Bone, can say whatever they want. It doesn’t change anything. I know what I’m doing and how to win games.”
She doesn’t even flinch.
I inhale and let it out, shifting an inch closer. “I just want to play football, and I want to win. I can’t get worked up over a bunch of guys who want to party and piss away our chances. My management has to see that they’re holding us back. For now, they’re a part of my team. I can’t change that. It’s how it is sometimes.”
“So that’s it?”
She’s got that look again, like she wants to stroll back in there and kick his ass. It makes me smile.
“Something funny, Matthews?” Her light brows scrunch together in full irritation.
“I’ve not seen you riled up.”
She glowers at me.
“Besides, they can call me Rocket Boy or think my name got me here, but I worked my ass off day and night for it. I proved it today.”
