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Maverick
Coach rides our asses the whole practice, and I can feel the annoyance rolling off my teammates in waves when they glance at me. Gray whacks my helmet, a what-the-fucklook on his face as he passes.
Fuck this.I peel off the suffocating helmet and toss it on the ground before moving over to Coach. He stands with his hand propped on his hips, his pot belly popping out of the blue BU Bears polo he’s wearing.
“You wanna tell me what’s gotten into your head today?” he asks when I reach him, his annoyance palpable. “We’ve got a game in a week, Brady. Whatever stick is riding up your ass, pull it out. Or I’ll pull you, got it?”
“Shit, Coach, it’s one bad play.”
“You call what you just did out there a bad play?” He scoffs, scraping his hand through his graying hair. “That was a fucking disaster. And there’s no way I’m having that in our first game of the season. This is the year, Maverick, your first as captainandquarterback. This is the year to really prove to yourself to everyone who doubted you. I stuck my neck on the line to get you here, don’t let me down.”
My jaw tightens, and I bite my tongue, tamping down the outburst that wants to slip from my mouth. The annoying thing is he’s right. I’ve played like shit today, and everyone fucking knows it.
“Everyone clear out,” he calls over the field, the guys stopping in their tracks and an air of relief passes over us as they make their way toward the arch, heading for the locker room. “Seriously, Maverick, whatever’s gotten in your way during summer, get rid of it. Or you’ll fuck all this up. You’ve got a real talent, kid, don’t blow it.”
His large hand claps around my shoulder for a beat, and I nod, placating him enough he leaves me standing there alone.
With a groan of frustration, I stalk toward the abandoned helmet, shoving it under my arm before following the direction the rest of the team went.
They grumble as I push through them, pulling the shirt off my back and dropping it to the bench before moving and flipping one of the showers on.
“You good?” Beck asks, stepping beside me. “Because, I swear, man, that was not great out there.”
“Coach just about reamed me out on the field, so I don’t need to hear it from you too.”
“I’m not here to shout at or berate you, dude,” he tells me, nudging me with his shoulder. “Just checking in. You may be our captain now, but you’re my friend first. And clearly shit is running through your mind. Given you and Nash seem pretty chilly at the minute, I’m just offering my friendship services.”
“Awww, you have a soft spot for me, how cute.”
“Don’t be a dick.” He shoves my shoulder when he passes, shaking his head as he moves across the room.
Stripping the rest of my uniform off, I step under the warm stream of water, letting it wash away the shitty practice. My mood has been sour since Nash and I got into it in my car the other day. Hell, we didn’t even argue, but the bitter taste he left in my mouth won’t fucking go.
It’s not enough to have me rethinking things—if anything, it spurs me on more, knowing that Beatrice being here is already fucking everything up for me.
It doesn’t help that she won’t leave my fucking head either.
The minute my eyes close at night, visions of her swamp me. The sight of her all grown up, paired with all the memories of our past. The day I met her, the day I found her, the day in court. And every day since, missing her but hating her all the same too.
She’s messing with my head, and it’s been a few days. I dread to think the ways she’ll fuck me up if she tries to stick this out.
There’s too much history between us, too much negativity to make this an easy transition, and I’m not sure I can survive her sticking around, knowing how quickly she can worm her way back inside me.
Chapter Five
Beatrice
MyhandshakesasI pop the lid on the pill bottle, tipping them into my free palm. Water streams from the kitchen sink, and the radio plays softly in the background, but my mind is overwhelmed with the new day to take anything else in.
When a knock sounds at the door, the bottle falls to the floor, white pills scattering over the linoleum. Closing my eyes, I blow out a slow breath before dropping to my knees and quickly sweeping the pills back into their home.
When I rise, I stand there for a good minute, trying to settle myself while Maisie knocks again and again.
“Sorry,” I say when I finally pull the door open. Her brown eyes soften when she takes in my disheveled appearance, and my old tatty pajamas. Where I’m a hot mess, barely awake after struggling to peel myself off my makeshift sofa bed this morning, Maisie is the complete opposite.
Her hair is fastened into a half-up, half-down style with a butterfly clip at the back, and she rocks a pair of mom jeans and the cutest floral crop. The little makeup she wears brightens her already glowing skin, making her brown eyes pop beneath the gold shimmers brushed onto her lids.
If I were a jealous person, I’d probably feel a little green just looking at her. I envy her easy confidence and the bright smile on her lips at all times of the day, but it’s not a negative thing. If anything, I hope some of that rubs off on me.
