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“It’s because he is.”
“What?”
“He’s doing it on purpose. His fucking vendetta against Quentin. He doesn’t care if they win or lose this game as long as he destroys Quentin’s career in the process.” I stare down at him.
“What? He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t be that unhinged, would he?” Bea frowns down at the field.
“I would never underestimate the depths of that man’s cruelty. But I’m not letting him get away with it.” I grab my purse and hurry out of the box, on a mission to make the person who was supposed to be my father see reason.
I’m waitingfor him at the edge of the tunnel, mindful of the cameras I know are aimed this way and the security guards who are eyeing my badge like they don’t quite trust it. But when he rounds the corner, he sees me.
“We need to talk.” My voice is just above a whisper.
“I have a team to coach, Madison.” He uses the same tone he used when I was an errant teenager.
“This will only take a moment.”
“Speak.” He pauses in his steps and looks at me. I beam a bright smile in his direction, hoping that any cameras that might catch this think I’m just some nice representative of the facility or if they do recognize me as his relation, think we’re just having a heartfelt father-daughter moment.
“Call your guys off. What you’re doing is beneath you. It’s beneath your players.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Youknow. If you don’t stop, I’ll spend every waking moment making you pay for it from now on.”
I grin brighter, and my father’s blue eyes meet mine. He’s looking at me the same way I’ve seen him look at my brothers, and I steel my spine for the blow.
“I made him, and I can unmake him. You’re a grown woman now. If you want to be collateral damage, that’s your choice.”
“You didn’t make him. He made himself. You keep trying to destroy him, and he continues on despite you. Just like your sons.”
“At least mysonscontribute something meaningful to this world.”
“In spite of you.” I turn then, before I can let him see my face falter or break. He’s barely spoken to me since I took Tobias’s side in the big standoff. This will probably be the lasttime we talk for a long time. Maybe ever—and I’m going to be the one to walk away.
I watch hopelesslyfrom my seat in the stadium as they take the field again after halftime. I can tell he’s bruised up already when I look at Quentin. They’ve wrapped his elbow, and he has a gash on his face that they’ve used butterfly tape on. He’s taken an absolute beating because my father has a grudge he wants to settle.
I watch as Easton smashes his helmet against one of the opposing team’s players, screaming at him and telling him to go fuck himself for touching his quarterback. The refs break them up and East takes a step back, nodding when the refs tell him to cool down. Then he’s dragged back toward the line of scrimmage by two of his teammates. Quentin slaps him on the back, shaking his head and reassuring him that he’s fine. I can hear him now, telling East this is just football and sometimes it’s rough.
But this is next level. The tension on the field is sky-high, and it’s only a matter of time before it boils over and someone does something that they can’t take back. Another play sets up and Quentin has his receivers go long while East helps block. Quentin launches the ball, and it flies downfield thirty yards. His receiver catches it and takes off, but out of the corner of my eye, I see another scuffle breaking out.
Quentin’s on the ground again, and the refs have thrown a flag, and again I see my brother’s number in the midst of the fight. I can see him yelling at another guy from the Blaze. Quentin doesn’t get up immediately, rubbing his leg and shaking his head in disgust. My gut churns with worry when the trainers run out onto the field to evaluate him. But it’s thenext thing that makes my heart slam against my chest. I’m up on my feet and racing toward the edge of the section.
“No. East. No!” Because my brother is racing for the other sideline, ripping his helmet off and spiking it on the ground. A couple of the guys from the Blaze are trying to block him, but he gets to our father anyway. I can’t tell what he’s saying, but his face says it all. Telling my father the same thing I had at the half.
Refs run over and flags go flying into the air. My father’s red face turns to East, and he says something to him. I can’t tell what it is, but the next thing East says is crystal clear. “Fuck. You.” Whistles blow and Chaos players drag East backwards across the field, but it’s too late.
“Unsportsmanlike conduct. Number 87 is ejected from the game.”
The tears well up in my eyes as I watch East head for the lockers. I can only imagine the fines and the suspension that’s going to follow for him, but my heart warms the slightest bit when half the stadium stands and starts chanting his name.
I’m torn for what to do. Quentin’s on the sideline again, being taken into the tent to be evaluated while the backup quarterback runs out onto the field. I want to stay and see if he comes back, but I also want to be there for my brother. I turn to look at Wren and Bea.
“Go. You’re the only one of us with a badge with access. Just text me he’s okay?” Wren looks at me despondently.
“Okay.”
“I’ll text you anything about Quentin.” Bea gives me a sympathetic look. I give Wren a quick hug and nod at Bea before I take off running through the stadium to get downstairs.
