AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Snap out of it, Nate.
Better days will come.
They have to.
I’ve really got to shake this shit off before my mind ends up spiraling into some dark, shadowy places that I’d rather stay clear from. Everybody has demons to overcome, but the media’s current perception of me just happens to hit a little too close to home to mine.
“Pardon me. Excuse me. God! Will you move?!” a familiar shrill voice demands, successfully pulling me out of my gloomy reverie.
Positioned at the end of the pew, Piper flips her trademark ponytail in frustration as she prepares to navigate the sea of bodies sitting between us. With a not-so-polite smile, she slowly begins her journey towards me, focused on maintaining a delicate balance between efficiency and feigned reverence since baby Fiona’s christening is already in full swing. Piper inches forward, her eyes fixed on the empty space between me and one of my teammates, daring anyone who even thinks of taking her seat away from her. Carefully, she maneuvers around legs and knees, gracefully gliding past the guests until she lets out an exaggerated exhale once she reaches her desired spot.
“You’re late,” I mumble under my breath to avoid drawing attention to myself and away from what’s happening at the altar.
Piper has more than done that for the two of us with her tardy arrival.
“I came, didn’t I?” she grumbles back, giving her hair another flip, looking like she would rather be anywhere but here.
“You sounded excited about coming to this shindig on the phone.”
“It’s a fucking christening, Nathan. No one in their right mind is ever excited to attend one of these things.” She scoffs.
“Hmm. I might not come to church a lot, but I think cursing is still frowned upon,” I retort with a mocking smirk.
“Oh, bite me, Nathan. I’m only here because I know how important this day is to Jack,” she explains, eyeing the teammate in question in front of us, standing tall and a little weepy-eyed like the proud father he is.
Both my team’s captain, Jack, and his wife, Erin, listen attentively to the priest as they lovingly hand over their six-month-old daughter to her future godparents. One of which just so happens to be another teammate of mine—the Boston Guardians’ goalie and Jack’s younger brother, Caleb.
“Jack must have lost a bet or something to make Caleb his daughter’s godfather. That girl is going to know every curse word there is before she even learns how to walk.” Piper tsks.
“The apple won’t fall far from the tree then. No harm, no foul,” I retort with a shrug.
“The curse of being a townie,” Piper adds with an amused grin on her lips.
“Or born Irish,” I pile on.
I muffle my chuckle by pretending to clear my throat while Piper hides hers by lowering her head. However, we must not have been discreet enough with our light teasing because Jack’s glower falls directly onto us, silently ordering us to shut the fuck up.
I instantly square my shoulders and sit up straight while Piper becomes the epitome of graceful etiquette. It’s only when Jack turns his attention back to whatever jargon the priest is saying that I relax. But to my dismay, the tension on my shoulders refuses to ease up now that Piper is sitting next to me. I’ve been waiting all week to hear what kind of game plan she has come up with for me to get back in the good graces of the teamand the fans. And although we only talked a few times over the phone, I have seen her handiwork at play.
“I saw you found some witnesses to corroborate my story,” I mutter over to her, referring to a few news articles that came out yesterday trying to explain what really went down in that video.
“Not that it will make much of a difference,” she laments. “Everyone will think I just paid those witnesses off. The optics of the whole thing is messed up. Unless I can find the girl you so chivalrously tried to save, then we’re shit out of luck,” she explains, adding a sarcastic emphasis onchivalrously.
“I stand by what I did,” I defend assertively. “The girl was completely defenseless and scared out of her mind. Someone needed to step in.”
“That someone didn’t have to be you,” she reprimands with a stern tone.
“Well, I didn’t see anyone eager to jump in,” I grunt. “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. John F. Kennedy said that,” I add with a rigid frown.
“Actually, Edmund Burke said that inspired by a lecture he heard from John Stuart Mill,” Little Miss Know-it-all counters matter-of-factly. “But I get what you’re trying to say, and I empathize.” She lets out a despondent sigh. “I really do, Nathan. Unfortunately, you’re not a Kennedy, so we can’t sweep this under the rug and call it a day. We need to change the narrative that you’re some big ogre who can’t keep his fists to himself and soften you up a bit.”
“And how do you suggest we do that?” I arch a brow.
“First of all, we’re going to clean up your image by doing some charity work.”
“I already do that. Of my own volition,” I interject with a deep-rooted scowl.
Just the idea of someone using charity work as a publicity stunt churns my stomach.
