Page 15 of No Rhyme or Roughing
“Press is press.” I shrugged, trying to mask my unease. Mr. Mac’s voice echoed in my mind.Want to sell the team. Relocation. New start.
I shook off the words and turned to Rowan. “You ready to go?”
Teddy was going out in the city tonight, so I had to drive Rowan home. He hadn’t played either since Coach gave the backup tonight’s game.
“No date tonight, brother?” Sullivan approached, his usual smirk—reserved only for me—nowhere in sight.
Rowan threw an arm over my shoulders. “This might not be the best time to tell you, Coach, but…”
I didn’t push him away as my gaze locked on my brother’s. “Do you care?”
Sullivan shrugged. “Not particularly. But you’re the captain. You should have played tonight.” He didn’t believe the excuses the rest of the guys had accepted. He knew me better. “Sam’s cooking tonight if you want to join us.”
He knew I didn’t. Mentioning her was just a dig. Samantha Kareem was the only woman I’d ever loved—other than my mom. We’d been together for nearly a decade, starting when I was eighteen and a freshman in college. She moved with me from team to team after we graduated, always supportive.
Until she wasn’t. Until she wanted to settle down and decided my brother could offer her everything I couldn’t. I hadn’t had a full conversation with either of them since.
“You know,” I said, “I think I’d rather eat glass.”
Besides, there was a girl at home I wanted to see, a girl who knew what I had to hide from everyone else. With her, I could breathe.
Still no smirk. If I didn’t know better, I’d think my brother was nervous. “We have something we wanted to talk to you about.” His fingers tugged at the back of his neck.
“I’m sure it’ll keep.”
He stared at me for a moment longer before turning away and patting Rowan on the shoulder. “Tuesday, first thing in the morning. One-on-one.”
“Aye aye, Coach.” Rowan saluted him. As Sullivan headed toward Marks, our backup goalie who’d played a great game, that salute turned into the middle finger.
I swatted his hand down. “You don’t have to hate your goalie coach for me.”
Rowan tapped his chin with the same middle finger. “Hmm… two guys with the same face. One’s a sad sack; the other’s a dick. I’ll take the depression over the one who causes it, thanks.”
Shoving him off me, I laughed. “I’m not a sad sack.”
“Whatever you say, brother. Just don’t let me be anywhere near you when that head you keep everything bottled up in explodes.”
We escaped the rest of the team and headed out into the night. It was about a half-hour drive home with no traffic. The bridge lit up with an extravagant light show, and I watched it as I drove, thinking about the last thing Sydney had said to me when I dropped her off after our adventure.
She had an idea for getting fans in the building.
But I wasn’t going to like it.
I pacedoutside Sydney’s door, hearing her mutter to herself inside, cursing every few words. When she didn’t think anyone could hear, the dam holding back everything she wanted to say apparently burst.
If I asked her about this bad idea of hers, would it mean I was truly considering saving the team? Doing whatever it took? I couldn’t go into this half-assed like I had so many other things in my life—my career, my relationships.
No. Sam wasn’t part of this anymore. Not now, not ever.
“Are you just going to stay out there and fantasize about me?” Sydney called out. “Oh, God, I hope you’re Ryder and not my brother.”
I bit back a smile and pushed open her door. “Hey.”
“Hi.” Her cheeks flushed, but her eyes held a challenge. “I promise I don’t bite… much. Holy shit balls, how do I just say things to you?”
“You don’t talk like this to anyone else?” My brow furrowed at the thought of never hearing that sass from her again.
Her entire face closed off—brows drawing in, lips tightening, eyes fixed on the floor. “Not anymore.”
