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It would be smarter to bottle it up. I’m not doing anyone any favors, critiquing from the back room like a fucking know-it-all.
But Bastian’s smug sneer rips the words right out of my mouth.
He comes in last. He’s the only one who doesn’t look like someone just kicked his puppy in the face. Head held high, chest thrust out.
“Hey, Bastian,” I snarl. “What the fuck was that shit out there?”
He turns his attention to me as everyone else falls quiet.
“Come on, Reese,” someone pipes up, “don’t start anything. This already sucks enough as it is…”
“Yeah, man, can’t we have some peace for five fucking minutes? You weren’t even out there.”
I ignore them all. My eyes stay on Bastian, still sneering down his crooked nose at me.
“I don’t think I have to answer to some benched bitch who fucks his bimbo nanny in his free time—and fucks us over in his ice time.” He spits on the locker room floor. “Kinda beneath me, really. You set the bar way low, Dalton.”
“You shut the fuck up about Olivia.” I lunge up off my seat and shove him, knocking him back against a few other players who keep him upright.
Bastian laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Cute little Olivia. Sucks about how everything came out, really. Bet you tried to keep all that hush hush, eh? But you know what they say: shit always comes out if there’s someone willing to pay for it.”
His smirk is unsettling. Like he knows something that I don’t. I get close to him. “The hell are you talking about, Bastian?”
He laughs right in my face. His breath smells like stale cigarettes and stadium food. “You haven’t figured it out? That’s amazing, seriously. I guess you’ve been busy moping around since your little sex toy got outed. Who do you think spilled the beans, dumbass?”
My eyes narrow as it hits me. So obvious. So blindingly, stupidly obvious. “You… ”
There’s no fucking way. Bastian and I hate each other, but I was so careful about all of this. He couldn’t have—I couldn’t have?—
Bastian grins. “You’re not the only one with a secret little piece on the side warming the bed. Only, I think mine is a little more useful. After you went batshit that day Olivia popped up at the practice facility, I asked my girl what the deal was with the tight-bodied brunette her boss was losing his shit over. And what do you know, she tells me how the girl is working for you! Now, my girl is very adamant about keeping her job, so she’s a li’l tight-lipped… until a certain email comes in from a certain nanny’s previous employer. And, well… things get really, really juicy from there.”
Paula.
“You’re fucking my P.A.?”
“When it suits me,” he says, spreading his arms wide in a whoopsie-daisy kind of shrug. “She was quick to spill the beans once shit started to get real interesting, too. Apparently, you’re a terrible goddamn boss and a pain to be around. Hiding your baby and being a pig with your nanny was the final straw.” He smirks. “Then again, I dunno if I can blame you. Olivia’s hot. Tell me, man: she fuck good? How’s that mouth of hers?”
“Shut the fuck up, Bastian.”
“I bet you really got off on the idea of putting a baby into her, too, didn’t you? A baby in the babysitter. Real full-circle kind of thing. Can’t blame you, though. I kinda want to see if she’d be into it. Some pay for play, if you know what I?—”
I don’t let Bastian finish the sentence. I sink my fist into his face, sending him to the ground.
And the flurry doesn’t stop.
All of this, Olivia leaving, getting benched, this fucking terrible ache in my chest—it’s all because of Bastian and that snake bitch Paula. She’s out the moment I see her.
And Bastian?
I’m gonna kill him.
The yells of everyone else in the locker room fade to white noise. There are hands on me, but all I have the brain power for is beating in Bastian’s face. The crunch of cartilage and the way he feebly tries to block my hits just fuels me on.
He wanted to ruin me? Well, he got what he wanted. Now that I have nothing left to lose, and someone to blame it on, he’s going to get it.
“Fuck, Reese, let up!”
There’s a pair of arms on either side of me, pulling me away from turning Bastian’s face into mincemeat. It’s Dante and Marcus, tugging and grunting as they heft me off of Bastian. I’m still a furious bull, my nostrils flared and my anger blurring my vision red.
