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“That’s insane, your game was shit before she came along.” I throw a towel his way and he catches it easily. “Honestly? I think the pressure of being MVP last year messed with your head and you’ve been chasing those numbers ever since they handed you that trophy. Harper might look like the reason, but if you’re honest with yourself, you were struggling from spring training.”
I give a slight nod because he’s saying truth after truth, and I can’t deny anything he just said.
“Hey Anderson, how does it feel to be second best for the first time in your career?” TJ mocks from across the room.
That shit-eating grin appears and it’s as if something inside of me snaps, and I can’t take it anymore. I stand, fists clenched as I head over to where TJ stands as Will lunges forward to hold me back.
“Don’t do it, Josh. It’ll just cause more problems.”
Logically I know he’s right, but all the anger is making my brain lose what little functionality I have left.
I grunt, breaking free of his hold and stomp toward the fucking boy that needs a good beating. Once I get in his face, I take my hand and wrap it around his neck, pulling his face toward mine.
“Listen, you little shit. You? You are nothing. Do you understand me? I am the one that has earned the right to be cocky, not you. You’ve earned nothing,” I mutter as a sly smirk crosses his face.
“Really? Well it seems like I’m the one starting tomorrow night… not you.”
And that’s the moment my patience snaps and my fist connects with his gut before I think better of it. I know I should be ashamed of my behavior, but the sound he made when he hits the floor sends a thrill through me and I can’t regret it.
“Anderson!” Coach yells from the doorway of his office. “Get out of this locker room right now.” He’s pointing to the door as I give Will another glance and when I see the pity in his eyes, I shake my head and gather my things, heading toward the door. Once I’m in the hallway, I grab a shirt and pull it over my head as I head toward the exit as the events run through my head over and over and over again.
This is a fucking disaster.
11
Harper
I turn off the TV after the post-game interviews and take a deep breath. That was rough. Josh had a terrible game, made too many errors and I inwardly cringe at the number of times his Coach spoke to him throughout the game. I close my eyes and pray that these photos aren’t affecting his game like I assume they are. The guilt would swallow me whole if I was the reason this is happening to him.
I peer over at the clock over the oven and see that it’s just after ten, so I have about an hour or two before Josh gets home.
Home.
It’s so incredibly weird to think of Josh’s apartment as home, but I do. I spend more time at his place than I do my own, and whenever he’s away on the road I stay here, because I’m a romantic at heart and want to be surrounded by his things. It makes the distance bearable.
After I clean the kitchen, tidy up the living room and put away some laundry I decide to lie down on the couch for a minute and rest my eyes.
I’m jolted awake by the sound of keys in the door. Josh doesn’t notice me right away and I frown at the exhaustion pouring off of him. His hair is a mess as if he spent the last few hours raking his fingers through it. I half expected him to come home in a suit with his tie hanging loosely from his neck, but instead he’s wearing his uniform pants and a T-shirt that he wore out of the house this morning. My eyes track him as he enters, toeing off his shoes and I notice that they aren’t the ones he left wearing this morning and I crumble a little inside. His night was rougher than I thought.
He makes his way into the kitchen, opening the fridge and I know he’s grabbing a beer and that’s when I decide to say something.
“Josh?” I question as his head pops up, a cold beer in hand.
“I didn’t know you were here,” he mutters, closing the door and eclipsing us in darkness.
I push the blanket off my legs and make my way toward him. His throat contracts with every sip of beer and I can’t help the heat that travels up my body at the sight, but when his eyes land on mine that feeling disappears and all I see is anger staring back at me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask quietly, placing my hands on his chest and letting them fall lightly down, stopping at his belt. Before I get to say anything more, he shrugs away from my touch and I recoil.
“I’m not in the mood tonight,” he grunts, walking into the living room and turning off the TV I forgot was still lighting up the space. “I think it’s best if you went home to your place tonight.”
I couldn’t have heard him right…did he just ask me to leave?
“What?”
He takes his beer and makes his way down the hall toward the bedroom and doesn’t look back once as I just stand there and stare as he walks away. As he leaves me in the darkness, I feel the tears start to form because this is it. This is where my worst fear starts to form.
My head dips as I stand there in total silence, listening, hoping that he’ll come back to me, but that never happens. So I start gathering my things and I open the front door, ready to walk out, but I stop myself.
