Page 30 of Big Man on Campus

“Why not?”

He shakes his head. “We’ll talk about that later.”

* * *

But later we don’t talk, because like all problems, the problem of Phoebe and her broken heart seems distant when I’m wrapped in Kace’s arms making love.

Chapter 6

Kace

Barely making it to the training room before my first class, I’m too distracted to remember the freshman player’s name as he sits at the bench next to me preparing to lift an impressive weight. But he stops and looks at me with a troubled frown.

“You were in a crash last week, right?”

My shoulders tighten as I lift a barbell. “What about it?”

“What caused it?”

“Why are you asking?” No way it’s idle curiosity, and I try to keep my face neutral, feeling the tension in my jaw, the strain of the muscles across my shoulders more from the question than the weight.

“A chick from the campus SADD group approached me with a petition to open an investigation of the crash. She claims—”

“What the fuck?” My gut does a nose-dive and I drop the barbell to the floor with an unnerving clang. “I know what she claims. It’s not true.” I swipe beads of sweat from my brow with my forearm.

“I didn’t sign it. Thought you should know. What the hell happened?”

“Not a damn thing. The car was hardly moving when it hit the tree. I . . . wasn’t paying attention. No biggie.” The kid nods.

“What’d you ever do to this chick from SADD to get her all up in your ass about it?”

“Good fucking question,” I say. It’s about time I find out. I’m going to have a talk with whoever it is.

“Whoever’s behind this has a major hair across their ass for you. I’ve never heard of SADD going after someone who wasn’t drinking. Right? It’s not like distracted driving is a criminal offense. You’d think you were an ax murderer, this chick was so angry. She was fucking adamant that you be held accountable.”

“I did hit a tree,” I say, staying cool. “Maybe she’s a tree hugger.” The kid laughs as I bend to pick up the barbell.

“I think she has some kind of thing about athletes getting privileged treatment,” the kid says. I straighten. His words set off alarm bells all through me. The memory of an incident from last semester surfaces.

“What was her name?” I ask, the vibration of fear intensifying at the possibility.

“Madelyn Fontaine, aka Mad for SADD. That’s what she told me.” The freshman laughs. “You heard of her?”

Fuck. I have heard of her. She’s the one thorn on campus, the one reminder who brings back with stark clarity all the horror of the tragic crash that killed Sky. The crash that killed my relationship with Glory. Or so I thought.

Our relationship was never dead. Only buried under my shit, waiting to be resurrected by Glory’s bravery. And now that she’s close to redemption, that we’re both so close to putting it all behind us, I’ll be fucked if I’m going to let some crazy vindictive chick ruin us all over again. Mad for SADD is the infamous campus activist known for her vindictive social media campaigns against all drinking on campus, legal or not. Lucky thing I’m twenty-one.

I wonder where the hell Madelyn got the video clip. It’s possible she could have taken it herself. Like hell. What would she be doing on my street late at night? She wouldn’t be caught dead at a sorority or frat house where there would most certainly be drinking on the night before classes started.

Fitz catches up with me as I leave the building and we head to our class in sports management. I take it seriously because Dad has drummed it into me that I need a backup plan. Something Glory always disagreed with him about, which he didn’t like. At all. As for Glory, she chalked it up to a protective dad looking out for his kid, always called him a natural worrier and how she’s thrilled I didn’t inherit the worry gene.

But I don’t know about that anymore because I’m pretty fucking worried these days. About her. Feeling a need to protect someone who’s vulnerable tends to do that to a person.

“This is a fucking first,” Fitz says. “You’re the pensive one today.” His sunglasses cover half his face, so I don’t see his expression. His mouth is in the usual neutral position.

I give him a clown smile and my middle finger in response.

“You bringing Glory to the Alumni dinner tonight?”