He’s pointing his index finger at me, and I swipe it away.
“Don’t start, Nate.”
“I’m not starting anything. I’m calling it like I see it.”
A few other guys begin to gather around us. Chance, who’s heard everything, looks like he’s ready to lose it on Nate.
“I’ve earned everything I’ve got.” My voice doesn’t waver.
“Yeah, right.”
Suddenly, Landon’s voice cuts through.
“What’s going on here?”
The last thing I want is Landon to interfere. It would only prove Nate’s point.
“Nothing worth discussing,” I say, a sternness flushed through my voice.
“Oh look, your big brother is coming to save the day again,” Nate taunts.
Now I’m starting to get really pissed off, but Landon beats me to it.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he asks Nate in an absolutely lethal tone. All two hundred and sixty pounds of his linebacker physique primed to kill this asshole.
But I can’t let that happen. I don’t want him to help.
This is my fight.
“Landon, back off, let me handle this,” I say to him, in the most direct tone I’ve ever mustered toward my big brother.
He turns my way, studying me until I see him relax a fraction.
“Okay.”
I then turn back to Nate, trying to find a way to defuse the situation. Be the better man.
“Look, we’re teammates. We don’t have to like each other, but we do have to work together. Respect our places on the team.”
“I don’t know how to respect someone who gets a cheat code in life, while?—”
“Nate, in my office. Now.”
We all flip around and there’s our offensive coordinator, Marshall, standing in the open door of the locker room, obviously listening.
Nate slumps a small bit, but then looks defiant.
Everyone knows it doesn’t matter how good you are, you can’t be a poison on the team.
I’m just surprised Nate’s dumb enough to be caught.
He slowly follows behind Marshall, out into the hallway.
By the time he comes back to clear out his locker, having been cut for what he said, the rest of us are on the field.
Later that night,a knock comes on the door to my room.
“Hey, it’s Landon. Can I come in?”
