Chapter Thirty-Two
JAX
I let the hot water pelt my back like tiny little needles. It didn’t make the pain go away.
Nothing did anymore.
I’d failed my dad.
I’d failed Kinsey.
I’d failed my team.
Fail, fail, fail, fail.
“We need to talk.” Miller.
I wasn’t in the mood for him.
We lost the game.
And it was my fault.
All of it.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at my phone for fear that Harley straight-up dumped my sorry ass for being such an embarrassment, or worse, that my father would send me a text that was the opposite of proud.
And Kins.
My heart clenched.
“Yeah, okay.” I grabbed a towel, wrapped it around my waist, and followed him into the locker room.
Sanchez still had his gear on, so did Miller.
The rest of the team was gone.
The hell?
“This . . .” Miller held his hands wide. “Is an intervention.”
“We were going to make signs.” Sanchez grinned. “But I couldn’t find any markers, and I knew you wouldn’t take us seriously if I used the pink crayon from one of Coach’s kids.”
“And you think I’m taking you seriously now?”
“We both went to Coach, told him what Anderson said.” Miller crossed his arms. “He was out of line.”
I nodded, still remembering the words so clearly, the phrasing. He’d done it on purpose, and I’d fallen for it.
With a touchdown like that, I think I should celebrate by fucking your sister, or have you already been doing that this whole time behind Miller’s back?
Anger surged through me.
She was my sister.
My baby sister.
I’d never looked at her like—bile bit at the back of my throat—like that. I’d never wanted people to even know she was adopted so they couldn’t use her against me, or make her feel bad about herself, but that was Anderson for you.
He was a manipulative tool who fed off others’ pain. And seeing Miller with Kinsey had finally pushed him off that ledge, the one that I knew he would fall off the longer he went without getting what he wanted, and what he wanted was Kinsey. I knew he would slip up, I knew his true colors would show, I just didn’t expect for him to drag me down with him.
“And?” My voice was hoarse.
“He’s off the team.” Miller shrugged. I visibly relaxed. “It helped that I told Coach about his past with Kinsey.”
“You did what?” I roared. “You had no right to tell Coach about that!”
Sanchez pressed a hand to my chest and shoved me back. “Actually, since he loves her, he kind of does. This is what love looks like, man, it protects, not by keeping everything hidden but by being honest.”
I blinked at him. “Are you shitting me right now?”
“I love her.” Miller’s eyes met mine. “I’d do anything to protect her.”
“It’s not Coach’s business. It’s nobody’s damn business!”
“You can’t fix everything!” Miller shouted, “God, look at you! You’re a mess!” He got right up in my face. “Not only are you the best quarterback in the league, but you’re family, and you’re wrecking everything because you can’t see past your own damn pride! Yes, I love her. But you can still love her too! And yes, it sucks that your dad is sick, but at least you have time with him. You’ve got a team that’s counting on you to lead them! You wanna be a hero? Then act like it! Starting now.” He shoved me against the wall. “Swallow your pride, apologize to the team, and go talk to Kinsey. Get your shit figured out and realize that life isn’t about memorizing every single play. Life isn’t perfect, you can’t always plan for things. Sometimes they happen, and all you can do is react in a way that’s worthy of the way your little sister looks at you every damn day, the way your team looks at you, the way we look at you.”
Sanchez sighed. “For the record, most the time I look at you like you’re a giant prick.”
Miller grinned.
I bit down on my lower lip to keep from doing something insane like laughing in such a tense situation, but I couldn’t help it. A laugh escaped, followed by another.
Until all three of us were wiping tears from our eyes.
Brothers.
They were my brothers.
The laughter died down.
I looked at Miller, really looked at him, and it was like our responsibilities shifted, like I’d given him that piece to take without even realizing that I needed to let it go.
To let Kinsey go.
“You really love her?”
“Yeah, man.” Miller nodded. “I really do.”
“And if she gets sick—”
“I’ll make her soup,” he interrupted with an irritated sigh. “I’ve got this. You just have to let me take it, man.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
Sanchez crossed his arms and shook his head. “Guys, I know this was one of those moments . . . so, there’s only one thing left to do.” He wrapped his arms around both of us amidst the cursing and yelling between me and Miller.
“What the hell do you boys think you’re doing?” Coach yelled, the door slamming behind him.
“Hugging it out, Coach!” Sanchez yelled. “You want in?”
“Sanchez.”
“Yeah, Coach?”
“You’re a pain in my ass!”
“Was that a yes?”
Coach rolled his eyes and mumbled, “I’d punch him if I didn’t need him so bad.”
“Heard that,” Sanchez yelled.
Coach shook his head at us, and then offered a smile in my direction. “You done acting like a little shit?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good to hear it. No practice tomorrow, and gentlemen, if I walk back in here and see you hugging again—you’re all running.”
“Nothing wrong with brotherly love, Coach!”
“Uh-huh.” He walked back out of the room.
We’d broken apart already.
I took a seat in one of the chairs and grabbed my bag. “Now what?”
“Now, you start groveling.” Miller patted me on the back. “Starting with your sister.”