Page 32 of Protective Player


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“What is it?”

“I love you, Dawson. But there’s something I need to tell you.”

14

DEVON

When Dawson told me how he felt about me—that he loved me—I thought I might actually pass out or die right then and there.

I mean, I got the general idea that he was fond of me, but we’d never really talked about our feelings. I never knew he felt so strongly for me. God knows my feelings for him took root and grew stronger a while back. I've been trying to deny it to myself just to protect my own heart if he didn’t feel the same. But I knew I’d fallen in love with Dawson Davis a little while back. Maybe even that first night we met.

It's why I had to tell him what I suspected. I couldn’t let us move into this new phase of our relationship without telling him because if I’m right and Dawson ever found out I even suspected it, he might never trust me again. Trust is such a fragile thing, and all love has to be built upon a solid foundation of it. Without trust, you have nothing. If I want this to work with Dawson, I know that I need to go into this with a clear heart and conscience.

The other thing I need to do is strictly for me. I need to know whether I’ve contributed to his suspension and the troubles he’s having with the league right now. My contribution would be completely incidental and not my fault, but the idea that I’m involved—no matter how tangentially—is bothering me. And I need to know. I need to know if my suspicions are correct. If they are proven to be true, then I need to figure out how to fix it.

I walk through the quad, my eyes darting left and right as I scan the crowd. It’s between classes so the quad is pretty full of people taking advantage of a beautiful Southern California afternoon. It takes a few minutes, but I finally spot him.

As usual, he’s sitting alone at a table on the far edge of the crowd. I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly, steeling myself. Confrontation has never been my strong suit, and I try to avoid them whenever possible. But this is one I can’t avoid. This is one I have to force myself to take head-on. There’s too much at stake.

Zack looks up as I step to the table, standing on the other side of it from him. He offers me a smile and sits up straight.

“Hello, Devon,” he says. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Do what?”

I grit my teeth and try to control the anger surging through my veins. Zack just sits there, giving me a smug, arrogant smile, which is making it harder.

“Don’t bother trying to deny it, Zack,” I hiss. “I know you fed that bullshit story about Dawson to that reporter.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Devon.”

I narrow my eyes, glaring at him as the hatred, thick and dark, flows through me. As if me trying to control my anger amuses him, Zack chuckles. “You need to calm down, Devon. Your face is turning red. That’s not good for your blood pressure.”

“Cut the crap, Zack. You are so pathetic and what you did is wrong in so many ways. You can be pissed and try to take it out on me. That’s fine. But you’re screwing with Dawson’s life. You’re destroying his career. You may have already ruined his reputation with your bullshit accusations. You know as well as I do that you never sold him PEDs.”

Zack’s eye twitches as his expression darkens, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

He’s getting angry. No, that’s not right. Zack is always angry. And I’m sure hearing how much I care for Dawson is letting that anger bubble to the surface. That mask he wears concealing his true nature is slipping. All I need to do is push him a little harder and get a little deeper beneath his skin to get him to take that mask all the way off and admit to what he’s done.

“You think you have some claim to me just because I talked to you in class. You don’t, Zack. Like I said before, I don’t owe you a thing.”

“Why did you flirt with me then, Devon? Why did you lead me on?”

“I didn’t. Never once. And if you took me being friendly as flirting or me somehow leading you on, then that says a hell of a lot about your twisted little brain. It says you need some damned professional help, Zack,” I respond hotly. “The only person who has claim to me is Dawson and trust me, you’ll never be a fraction of the man he is. And there’s no way in hell you would ever satisfy me the way he does.”

His face turns beet red, and his jaw is clenched so tight, he looks like he could bite through steel. Zack’s entire body is taut, every muscle tense. Hearing me talk about Dawson with the obvious affection in my voice even I can hear is getting to him. He’s right there, teetering on the edge and all I need to do is give him one more nudge to send him tumbling over it.

“Being pissed at me is one thing. That’s between us. But trying to ruin a career this man—the best man I’ve ever known, in fact—is low, Zack. It’s lower than I ever thought you’d go. Attacking somebody who had never done a thing to you, and doing it in such a cheap and sleazy way, shows just how pathetic you are. It shows you’re too weak and too cowardly to come at me straight on and that you have to get to me by going after somebody I love.”

“Do you think I give a shit about that cretin?” Zack snarls, finally exploding. “Do you think I care what happens to him or his reputation? Newsflash, Devon, I don’t. I don’t give a shit. You were supposed to be mine. Not his. You made me believe—”

“No, you let yourself believe something that wasn’t true. I was never going to be yours, Zack. Never. I never cared about you like that,” I cut him off. “I never cared about you at all. You’re a guy I know from class. That’s it. That’s all it ever was.”

“That’s not true. You love me.”

“I never did, and I never will.”

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