Page 23 of North

Specifically, back to Farren.

Well, not to Farren, but rather within proximity of her which might present an opportunity to spend time with her.

It’s unsettling how much I want to see her considering how hard she works to maintain some distance and I push the feeling aside, focusing instead on the present.

Penn walks ahead of Rafferty and me, a ghost moving through the crowd, his pace brisk and his focus pinned to the ground. He’s been more withdrawn than usual since the incident at Stevie’s bar the other night, although King apparently tried to talk to him about it.

He got nothing in return.

“North! Over here!” a woman calls out, waving a Titans scarf in the air. I smile, veering toward her to snap a quick selfie.

Rafferty does the same a few steps behind me,stopping to sign a young boy’s jersey. His grin stretches ear to ear, and it’s easy to see how much he thrives on this energy. The kid looks like Christmas came early, and Raff’s genuine warmth only adds to the moment.

And it’s crazy how much he and Farren look alike.

Stop… thinking… about… her.

“North, man, let’s move,” Rafferty says from right behind me, snapping me out of my thoughts. I wave at another group of fans, offering them a quick smile before picking up the pace.

The bright light of the noon sun illuminates the exit doors ahead and I can see two charter buses idling at the curb, ready to take us to our hotel. Rafferty and I step outside together and we’re immediately mobbed by a crowd of reporters.

At first, I think nothing of it. Probably a gaggle of local sports journalists wanting twenty seconds of airtime for tonight’s six o’clock news, but then I hear someone yell, “What about the allegations, Rafferty? Are you using performance-enhancing drugs?”

My head whips to the left, staring at Rafferty in shock. His expression turns white, eyes wide with confusion. “What? No!”

We’re surrounded by people, questions coming from all directions and recorders being stuck right in Rafferty’s face.

“What the fuck?” I growl, pushing in protectively tostand at his side. I glare at the reporters.

“Rafferty.” A man wearing a heavy black jacket to ward against the cold steps forward and holds up a photograph, but I can’t quite tell what it is. “What do you say about the photos showing you buying PEDs?”

Another question rings out from the back of the crowd. “And what about the lab reports showing positive results of drugs in your system?”

Rafferty looks thunderstruck and my hand goes to his shoulder where I squeeze in reassurance.

Then Callum Derringer, the team’s general manager, is there. He looks calm but I can see the underlying anger as he addresses the nearest microphone. “We have no idea what you’re talking about, but these accusations are false. The Titans stand firmly behind Rafferty Abrams. We’ll have a more detailed statement soon.”

With Callum on one side and me on the other, we move briskly to the bus where Rafferty practically catapults inside, Callum on his heels.

“What the hell was that?” Atlas asks, coming to stand beside me as my teammates file onto the bus.

“No fucking clue but there’s no way Rafferty’s doping.”

Atlas and I exchange a look and we both know who’s behind this without even trying hard to get to the right answer. “Fucking bitch,” I mutter.

His stalker is now playing a dangerous game, and it’sclear she’s unhinged. No doubt she’s behind this.

When we board the bus, I see Rafferty slumped in one of the front seats and Atlas and I take the ones opposite him.

He no longer looks shocked but instead looks pissed.

“It’s got to be Tansy,” Atlas says.

Rafferty nods, his lips pressed into a flat line. “I know. But there are photos, medical documentation.”

“It’s clearly been faked,” I say hotly. “Tansy’s in marketing, for fuck’s sake. She can manipulate anything she wants. The truth will come out.”

“Yeah, but not before my reputation is ruined,” Rafferty snarls, his hands opening and closing into tight fists. I can feel the fury rolling off him and I’m bottled up with rage on his behalf.

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