Page 70 of Trust Me Always

“Alister.”

Coach nods, a glare quickly forming. “The kid is struggling with the camaraderie of things. That won’t make leading this team these next two weeks any easier on him.”

“What do you want us to do, kiss his ass? The guy is a dickhead half the time, Coach,” Chase complains, crossing his arms.

Coach isn’t aware of the beef we have, but it’s obvious we have one. Shit, we wouldn’t be in this office right now if it weren’t.

“Not kiss his ass but listen when he speaks. Offer ideas. Show the team you’re willing to follow him, and in turn, they’ll follow you.”

Chase looks to Mason, who nods. He lets out a sigh and turns to Coach. “Yeah, all right, whatever. This week should be an easy win even if we don’t use pass game, but next week will be tough.”

Coach agrees, pinning me with an expectant expression.

“What?” I shrug. “I’m on defense now. This has nothing to do with me. I don’t have to hold his hand.”

Coach scoffs, shaking his head. “Wrong, kid. I’m moving your training schedule to align with his.”

“What?” I shoot forward in my seat. “Coach. No.”

Mason laughs and I flip him off.

“Coach, you do know Brady’s sleeping with Alister’s ex, right?” Chase smirks.

Dipshit.

Coach groans, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Of fucking course you are, Lancaster.”

This is one of those times I don’t mind all the rumors.

“See?” I grin. “I’m more likely to let him get crushed by weights than help him any.”

“You worked Mason through his program all last season and, from what you yourself told me, all offseason too.” He raises a brow.

“I did. Been doing that since I was twelve. This is different.”

“It’s no different. The kid needs someone who will push him, and if it can’t be Mason, it has to be you.”

“Why not Chase? He knows the entire routine.”

Chase throws his hands up as if to saywhat the hell, man, but I ignore him. If someone’s getting thrown under this bus, I’d rather it be him.

Love him, but no.

“It’s done and you won’t argue.” Coach has laid down the law, pulling out a folder and flipping it open. “I already checked in on your grades, and you’re on top of shit, so I’m excusing you from all study hall sessions for the next two weeks. You’ll spend that time working with Howl.”

“Damn, Brady, how good are your grades to get a two-week pass?” Mason looks over. “I had to make up the hour I missed when Deaton got sick.”

I shrug, but Coach is eager to share.

“Your boy here has a 4.0. Ended last semester with the same.”

My friends’ brows jump, but I just shrug again and change the subject. “When are you telling the punk?”

He glares at my word choice but looks at his watch. “He’ll be walking in while you’re walking out.”

“You mean we don’t get to see the look on his face when you tell him I’m his new backpack?”

“Out, assholes. Mason stays.”

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