CHAPTER ONE
MICAH
“For five million dollars,would you send…”
“Yes. Yes, I would,” I answered before my teammate could go on. I was tired of this game, and I had no idea why Antoine had decided to play it here, of all places.
His voice was barely audible over the thudding music, though my ears were well trained to hear even in the most dire conditions. And while I wouldn’t exactly call a nightclub dire, it was starting to feel that way.
This was the last place I wanted to be after a game that went twenty minutes into OT, but I was trying to be supportive. It wasn’t often we found nightclubs on roadies that were accessible enough for everyone on the team.
This place wouldn’t win any ADA awards or anything, but from what the guys had been saying, there were lights on the floors illuminating the pathto the bar and the bathrooms, and there weren’t a lot of tripping hazards, so no one had fallen on their faces yet.
Though the night was young and everyone was barely into their second drink.
But we were celebrating, and I was just glad most of my teammates were too fucking blind to see the fake-as-fuck smile on my face.
“Fuck off, Adams,” Antoine said, nudging my elbow. “Let me finish.”
My hand found the bar, and I leaned my elbow on it. The music wasn’t loud, but the bass was a lot. It was thudding through my chest like a second heartbeat. Normally, I didn’t mind getting lost in a whole-body experience, but right now, my life wasn’t normal.
I was talked into this fuck-ass night because we’d lost against New Yorkagain, meaning the season was still kicking our ass—just like last year—and our plan to rebuild was crumbling to dust like old bricks.
It didn’t help that I wasn’t really a nightclub kind of guy. I’d done this a few times to try and get out of my head, but all it really did was make me feel anxious and lost in a sea of bodies. But Antoine and Dani had a hard-on for EDM and the smell of sweat and knock-off perfume, so here I was, trying to wing all the men who were going to get laid, all the while acknowledging that wasn’t going to be me.
That was never going to be me.
“Are you going to finish, or—” I pressed when I realized he’d been silent for way too long.
“Right. Uh…” Antoine leaned into me. “For five million dollars, would you send a relative to jail?”
I almost laughed. Normally, I got these questions from him in the locker room and occasionally brought them home to try out on my brothers, but while Jonah and I were doing better now that our dad was safely in a memory care facility and our mom decided to fuck off for good, Jonah and I were still barely on speaking terms.
“I’m basically paying five million dollars for that right now.” My dad wasn’t in jail. From what I’d heard, the facility was a posh-as-fuck place that was costing my brothers and me more than my goddamn signing bonus per year.
But the point stood.
“Your life is sad,” Antoine said.
I lifted my middle finger and shoved it close enough against his face to where I knew he could see it. He laughed and licked the side of my palm.
“Ew. Fuck you, bud.”
“Not my type.” He squeezed my shoulder, then said, “I’m gonna go dance. Have fun humping the bar.”
“I hope you stub four toes,” I called after him as he left me. Dani had gone who the fuck knew where, and Freddie, the backup goalie who rarely left my side, had already grabbed an Uber back to the hotel.
I was not a fan of New York. It was busy, the streets were narrow, and the sidewalks were even worse. It was filled with tourists who didn’t give a fuck about white canes, and the people on thesubway were an experience I’d rather not have more than a few times a year.
If the league started making noise about trading me here, I would fucking quit.
“You look thirsty,” came a voice to my right.
I sighed and debated about turning my head. Most able-bodied gay dudes freaked the fuck out when they got a look at my face, and maybe it made me a dick, but I used that a lot when I didn’t want someone trying to pick me up.
And it worked almost every time. I wasn’t like Jonah. I didn’t have prosthetics to mask the fact that I had no eyes. I had no real idea what I looked like, but I knew I wasn’t as aesthetically pretty to sighted people the way my brothers were.
And showing that off was a very quick way to send dudes running.
