AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yeah,” Ronan croaked out, still glaring at me.
I didn’t mind.
He could glare at me all he wanted.
He could stick pin needles in a voodoo version of me and go on hating my guts for the rest of his life for all I cared.
All I needed from him was his submission.
“We’re clear,” he spat out.
“Good boy.” I slapped his cheeks with my hands and smirked. “Now fuck off.”
Ronan continued to mutter his misgivings, but since he was doing so under his breath, I turned my back on him and headed straight for the now-empty showers, choosing to scald the temper out of my body with water.
“Johnny, can I have a word?” Cormac Ryan, our number 11 winger asked, as he followed me into the shower area.
I swung around and glared at him, my fingers slipping away from the waistband of my shorts.
“Can it wait?” I asked, tone tight, jaw clenched, as my gaze traveled over him.
Annoyance flared to life at the sight of him, and I knew full well what he wanted to talk to me about—or should I say who he wanted to talk about.
Bella.
The time for talking was months ago.
Right now, with the mood I was in, the chances of us just talking was slim.
Cormac seemed to realize that because he nodded his head and retreated from the doorway.
“Yeah, no bother,” he replied, swallowing deeply as he backed up. “I’ll, uh, catch up with you another time.”
“Yeah,” I deadpanned, watching him leave. “You will.”
Shaking my head, I stripped off and stalked into the shower stall.
Twisting the chrome nozzle, I stepped under the steady stream of ice-cold water and waited for it to heat.
Pressing a palm against the tiled wall, I dropped my head and exhaled a frustrated breath.
I didn’t need another fight under my belt.
Keeping my nose clean this season was paramount, even in the shitty school league. It would be bad publicity to beat the shit out of my own teammates. Even when my fingers twitched with the urge to do just that.
The lads were long gone back to their assigned classes by the time I finished showering, leaving me alone in the changing room.
I didn’t bother rushing back to class, prioritizing my time with hoofing down my lunch and a premade protein smoothie instead.
It wasn’t until I was finished eating that I noticed the blue ice pack on top of my gear bag. There was a small note perched on top that read, “Ice your balls, Cap.”
Fucking Gibsie.
With a shake of my head, I sank down on the bench and grabbed the ice pack. Wrapping an old T-shirt around it, I freed my towel and did exactly what that note instructed.
When I was done icing my balls, I took my sweet-ass time assessing a few of my long-term injuries, the most worrying being the angry-looking scar on my inner groin.
The skin was hot, itchy, swollen, and fucking disgusting to look at.
