Page 64 of Worth the Scandal
He grabs my jersey. We go down in a blur of fists, shouting, mouthguard flying. Whistles scream from every direction. The grass is pushed against my face and I can smell the dirt, Caleb’s got me pinned down and the whole teams jumped in. This is going to be hell for our public image.
The ref separates us. The trainer pulls me out by the collar. I don’t care.
I don’t see a footy field.
I see a funeral and a coffin and it’s got Caleb’s name on it the sneaky dog.
Chapter Twenty Seven - Scarlett
I had to stay and watch because it’s kind of my job. Asher was ruthless, his debut starting and he butchered it being all macho and emotional. Men, why does testosterone and feelings never mix well. He was benched after 15 minutes because of a fight with his own god damn teammate—if you can even call him and Caleb “mates” at this point. This shit has gone too far, now it’s affecting the whole team and his career and my career. I know he did it to prove a point that his image and football isn’t important, but all he needed to do was just talk to me. Nothing, not even this can make up for the lies he’s told. But I need answers, I need to know the truth. That’s why I’ve waited until everyone’s gone home and it’s just Asher, again. He’s always the last to leave. He’s there throwing a football at the goalpost like it personally offended him, which after this evening’s game might be close to true. His training singlet sticks to his body like a wetsuit from all the perspiration. Even knowing what I know about AsherKingsley. My heart still skips a beat, and my inner thighs still burn from the state of this man.
He sees me approaching and slows.
“I know what I said wasn’t right about Justin and the photo, and I know I’ve hidden my family name but—“ he starts rambling, desperate to state his case. All that crap seems trivial now. Knowing what I know about the accident.
“What about the accident?” I probe standing my ground and cutting him off from whatever poor pitiful excuse he was about to give me. Right now I could give two fucks about what hisreallast name is.
He stiffens, fumbling the ball from his hands “Scarlett—”
“Don’t lie to me. Please. Not after everything. I think if not now more than ever I deserve some truth.”
A long silence stretches between us.
And then he says, quietly,
“So you did talk to Caleb then.”
“I did, learnt a lot from Google too, more than my so called boy—.” I cut myself off because what even are we “well whatever we are doing.”
He nods once. “I figured.”
I step closer. “Is it true?”
His jaw clenches. “Yes. But not all of it.”
I huff a sigh “so you didn’t smash into a tree with his girlfriend in the car, because you were on drugs and you didn’t get away Scott free because you’re a Kingsley and she didn’t die a week later?” Man I sound like a bitch, but enough is enough. I want the truth now. No beating around it just tell me so I can move on. Then I’ll clean up whatever PR nightmare looms in the distance—the very short distance after today—and could potentially ruin the business I’m building from the ground up. I shouldn’t be surprised the man who left me a post it note after a night of bearing our souls would act this way, it’s my own fault really.
Chapter Twenty Eight - Asher
I don’t even know how to start.
The girl Ilove, is standing in front of me waiting to hear the truth. I can’t even tell her the truth because I don’t know if it’s the truth and I don’t even know if she will believe me anyway.
God, I wish I could text my therapist right now.
How do you explain a night that’s blurry at best and haunting at worst?
I fumble the football again. It hits the turf with a hollow thud.
“I was at a party,” I say slowly. “One of the guys was celebrating a contract. There were drinks. Too many. I had one…maybe two. I don’t remember. All I know is—when I got in the car, I shouldn’t have been driving. But I know I wasn’t drunk. I don’t do drugs either, I’ve been trying to piece that night together for a year. It’s why I got to therapy.”
Scarlett doesn’t interrupt.
“I didn’t crash. Not really. I swerved to avoid something—a dog, a person, hell, I don’t know—and clipped a tree. It wasn’t major. Airbags didn’t even deploy. Everyone walked away with nothing but a few bruises.”
My voice tightens.
“But seven days later… Caleb’s girl, Darcy collapsed at home. Brain aneurysm. They said it wasn’t the crash. But Caleb never believed that. He also swears I was on something like he knows Iwas for certain, but I would never jeopardise my chance to start fullback like that.”
