“Not even close,” Phoenix growls, lunging again until Jax and I slam him back into the seat.
“Enough!” Coach’s roar shakes the bus, his boots stomping down the aisle. He glares between them, fury snapping in his eyes. “Both of you, shut it before I throw you out on the highway.”
Phoenix huffs a laugh, still baring teeth. Eric spits into a napkin, face already swelling.
Coach jabs a finger at them. “Congratulations, Locke. You too, Samson. Suspension. One week. No pay.”
Gasps ripple through the bus. Eric groans, dropping his head into his hands. Phoenix just smirks, blood streaking down his chin.
“Worth it,” he mutters.
“Shut up, Nix,” I growl, shoving him into the window seat.
The rest of the ride is suffocating. No one speaks, but the whispers are loud enough anyway. Some look at me like this is my fault. Others look at Phoenix like he’s finally lost it.
I sit rigid, every muscle taut, staring at my hands. They’re still trembling from pulling him back, from feeling the raw fury thrumming through his body. My stomach churns, equal parts fear and guilt. Because I know why he snapped.
Eric’s words weren’t just cheap trash talk—they were poison, the kind I’ve lived with my whole life. And Phoenix recognized it instantly. He heard that word and went feral, like he’d tear apart the world itself before letting it touch me.
Part of me wants to be grateful. Protected. Safe.
But instead, all I feel is dread. Because Phoenix would burn everything down for me, his career, his captaincy, his body—he’d throw it all away if someone came for me.
And that terrifies me.
11
PHOENIX
Leander sits beside me in the passenger seat, face turned toward the window, the glow of the streetlights strobing over his sharp profile. His hands are locked together in his lap, knuckles white. He hasn’t looked at me once since we got off the bus.
I grip the steering wheel tighter, veins standing out along my forearms. Every red light feels like it’s mocking me, stretching this distance out, forcing me to stew in it. I can feel the judgment still clinging to me from the team, the whispers, the way Coach’s glare burned like fire when he handed down the suspension. None of it matters. Not Eric’s busted lip, not the week of lost pay. I’d do it again without thinking.
Because the second that word left Eric’s mouth—the second he spat that filth at Leander—I saw red.
And I’ll never apologize for that. But Leander doesn’t see it the way I do.
By the time we pull into my driveway, the air between us is so tight it could choke me. I kill the engine. The hum dies, leaving only the sound of our breathing. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t reach for the door. He just sits there, stiff as stone.
“Lee,” I say finally, voice low. “You gonna sit there all night or what?”
He turns, slowly, and the look in his eyes punches harder than any fist. Disappointment. Fear. Anger. All rolled into one look that I can’t read.
“Why did you do that?” he says, flat and sharp. No hesitation. No warmth.
I scoff, leaning back in my seat, trying to swallow the burn crawling up my throat.
“What do you mean? Eric fucking crossed a line. I’m not letting anyone speak to you that way.”
Leander’s mouth presses into a thin line. “That wasn’t your fight.”
“The hell it wasn’t.” I snap the words before I can rein them in. My hands slam the wheel once, the leather groaning under my grip. “He disrespected you, Leander. Andno onewill ever get away with that as long as I’m breathing.”
He flinches, just barely, but I catch it. The way his shoulders curl, like my anger itself has become the enemy.
“You think that helps me?” His voice rises, shaking now, not from volume but from something rawer, deeper. “You think getting suspended, dragging the whole team into your mess, makes anything better? All it does is paint a target on my back. They already resent me, Phoenix. Now they’ll hate me. They’ll say I’m the reason their captain is benched.”
“They can say whatever the fuck they want.” I lean closer, heat in my chest, heat everywhere. “None of them matter. You matter. As your boyfriend, partner, whatever?—”
