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“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I hang my head. “I’m pretty sure Avery is pissed, and she has every right to be. I fucked up, and I’m sure I hurt her feelings.”
“Yeah, she does. That’s fucked up, Craig, even for you.”
His words hit me hard and I find myself absentmindedly rubbing my chest. If he thinks that’s fucked up, he’s really not going to like what comes next, but I better rip off the Band Aid before he finds this out somewhere else.
“That’s not even the worst part.”
“Ten minutes, guys,” Coach Weller bellows from the doorway to his office, pointing to his watch. “If anyone is late, y’all won’t be having a good afternoon. I’ve got a date tonight, and I’m not letting any of you assholes make me late.”
There are someooohhhh’sfrom the guys, and someone—probably one of the Bruiser brothers—shouts,get it, Coach. I bet if I look in their direction I’d see some thrusting hips, but I can’t.
Not with Remington so close to my pretty face.
“You better get talking,” he bites out. “You still have to change. It wouldn’t look good for you if you started showing up late to practice, not with your contract up this year.”
“Can we do this somewhere a little more private?” I glance around, knowing there are too many ears too close, so I walk further down the row of lockers and away from the rest of the team.
“Why do you need privacy?” Rhett scoffs as soon as we stop. “You gonna try to kiss me, too?”
“In your dreams, Remington.”
“Or do you mean Cramington?”
“Bloody nickname. That’s as ridiculous as you are.” I sigh and plop down on the end of the bench. “I don’t know what to do here.”
“About what?” He sits down next to me, his pads bumping into me. “Your horrible accent? Your unruly hair? Your poor taste in clothes?”
“That last one was you, and you know it. Don’t think I’m going to forget about you putting me in that costume last night, especially now that it’s front and center of a viral picture. But that’s not the point. I got a call from my agent this morning.”
“Why do I feel like I’m not going to like this?”
“You’re not. And for the record, I don’t either.” I pause for a second, scratching at the stubble on my chin. “Lucas wants me to fake date your sister.”
“Excuse me?” His voice is sharp and a little too loud for this conversation.
“Yeah.” I run a hand through my hair and glance over at him. His face is blank, and for some reason, that’s more intimidating than his usual resting bitch face. “He thinks it’ll improve my image enough to make up for the sponsors my old agent lost, and make my contract re-up here smooth.”
He doesn’t respond right away, and I don’t know if I should be relieved or worried that he’s so quiet. Maybe he is going to hit me. At this point, I’m pretty sure I deserve it.
I nudge him with my shoulder. As much as I appreciate a bit of silence, this isn’t the time, especially with practice starting in seven minutes. “Are you going to say something?”
“What do you want me to say?”
Even his voice is flat, emotionless.
“I don’t know. What would you do if you were in my shoes?”
This time he snorts, and his shoulders shake with silent laughter. “Did you forget I was in your shoes? Maybe not exactly because you didn’t wake up after a drugged cocktail to find yourself married. For the record, if that had happened with you and my sister, they’d find your body at the bottom of the Mississippi.”
“I’m not like you,” I say softly. “I’m not the guy who falls in love or has meaningful relationships.”
“Neither was I.”
This time we fall into a comfortable silence. I’ve no doubt Rhett is thinking about all the reasons he shouldn’t have found love. Or I guess I should sayreason, since it all stemmed from the years of physical and emotional abuse he suffered at the hands of his father.
I just… I don’t know.
There may have been a time when a happy ending was in the cards for me, but it’s long gone.
