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The entire room went silent and stared at us, even Carter.
“Cut the shit and leave your fucking differences off the field and out of my locker room. I don’t give a fuck what Carter said to you. You should control yourself.” A look of hurt crossed Coach’s face. “You sit out the next game, Harbor.”
“He fucking—”
“You want to make it two games?” Coach asked me.
I pressed my lips together. “No, sir.”
He pointed to the door. “Get out of here and cool down.”
I snatched up the rest of my things and hurried out of the room, forgoing any good-bye to Jamal or the rest of the team. Carter smirked at me on the way out, holding an ice pack to his eye. He fucking deserved it.
