Page 188 of Forever Relentless

“When you lose yours, Coach.”

He signed the paper. I’d expected more resistance. The fact that I got so little told me Sutherland had calculated this outcome before I even sat down. His glare became hotter when I handed him a copy. “Safety in numbers,” I murmured.

I left him with a copy, and I tucked mine into my gym bag.

“We done?” I asked him, getting to my feet.

“We’re done. With this,” he clarified. “You’re late for practice.”

“Am I?” I walked out, not bothering to close the door behind me.

I hid the paper in the locker room before it became too crowded. There were no cameras here, and I didn’t trust the fucker not to come in when I was training and take my insurance.

I changed into my training clothes, and walked out to the low murmur of some of my teammates.

“Why were you in Sutherland’s office?” Coach Holt demanded as he joined me.

“Housekeeping, Coach.”

He studied me. “I don’t know what the fuck that means,” he started to walk away and turned back. “Be careful, Matthews. Keep your head in the game.”

I nodded. My head was in the game. My head was only ever in the game. Until this semester, when I lifted my head up and found a pile of shit looking back.

Dante and Dustin came out about ten minutes later. Neither looked in my direction, and I didn’t expect them to.

I knew our friendship would change because of this, and I’d accepted that when I told them what I’d done.

No victory came without losses.

A few minutes later, Coach Sutherland approached them, and I watched as he pulled Jason Moore to his side. They huddled around him, and I saw Dante look my way once. He stood with his feet apart, his arms folded, and his face a mask of indifference. But when he did look at me, I felt the heat of his anger from where I stood.

Please don’t let Sutherland fuck this up. I watched Jason’s posture, not Sutherland’s face.

“Matthews!” Holt shouted from the end zone. “You here to train or look pretty?”

I couldn’t help the chuckle. “Thought it was both,” I told him as I joined him. I saw the sleds being pulled onto the ground. “Nooo,” I groaned.

“Not for you,” he told me. “Whittaker.”

Mike looked up and then, as the coach waited, he snapped his ass into gear and joined us.

“Matthews showed us yesterday he’s a slippery bastard.”

Mike wet his lips. “Um . . . Coach?”

“Matthews is going to help you raise your game, so that I can then make you better.” Coach Holt walked away. We both stared after him.

Mike turned to look at me. “What’s happening?”

His guess was as good as mine. “You cleared for practice yet?” I asked instead.

“No. Well . . . kind of.”

I gave him my full attention. “Which one is it?”

“Light exercise.”

I pointed to the sled. “Let’s go.”