Page 147 of Without Fault

“ENOUGH!” Someone must've pulled Sire to his feet, but he drags me with him, and with a punch to the gut, he lets me go.

“It’severyother fucking game with you three!” My coach shoves me back, but I push his arm away. “I saidenough!”

“Fuck you, Walker!” Sire takes another swing at me, but I quickly dodge it, and with his coach dragging him away, he wasn’t going to reach me.

“Shut the fuck up, Griffin.” I spit out the blood in my mouth, but just as I look up, August hits me in the mouth again. I punch the side of his face before we're pulled apart again.

When Sire lunges at me, I take another swing, and he doesn’t get to hit me back as August catches him. “Sire, let’s fuckinggo!”

I let my coach push me back as Sire tries to fight August off.

“In the dugout, Walker, or–”

“Listen to your bitch, Griffin!”

My coach pushes me again as Sire tries to get out of his brother's grasp.

“You’re lucky I don’t let him break your mouth!” August shouts as they make it across the field, but I got the last hit, so I don’t give a shit about whatever else they yell about.

Both teams are on the field, but after more yelling from the umpire, everyone heads for the dugout. When my coach shoves my back again, I stop in my tracks.

“Stop. Fucking.Shovingme.” I turn to him slowly, and he looks just about pissed enough to hit me, but I’d love another excuse for a fight.

“Get your ass in the dugoutnow.”

“Do not touch me.”

“Now!”

“Lower your tone.” I take a step forward, and I immediately get pushed back. I almost swing again until I realize it’s Jordan.

“Are you fucking insane?” He steps between our coach and me and walks me backward. “The brothers are one thing. CoachFinn? Did Griffin give you a damn brain injury, or are you actually insane?” He whispers now, and I turn on my heels instead of responding and head for the dugout.

No one says anything to me as I start taking my gear off and tossing it aside. I’m clearly not playing anymore, and I honestly don’t give a shit. I spit out some more blood, but my mouth fills again.

“You seriously need to stop fighting those guys at games. You’re going to–”

I turn to my teammate, and he’s smart enough not to say anything else, but then my coach storms in.

“Pack your shit!”

I turn to my coach and gesture to the bag in my hand. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

He tosses his clipboard aside before stalking towards me. “That smart mouth of yours is going to get you kicked off this team someday.”

“So–”

“Liam.”

I pull in a deep breath and look over at Jordan, and he shakes his head ever so slightly. “Don’t.”

“No, go ahead, Liam.”

I direct my glare back to our coach, and when I swallow more blood, I’m not sure if it’s because I was punched in the mouth a minute ago or if it's from how hard I bite my tongue.

“Nothing to say?”

I let out a scoff, but just as I open my mouth, Jordan steps in front of me, blocking my view from our idiot coach, who’s about to get punched in the damn throat.

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