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There’s surprise across her face before she grows serious, like serious in thought as she remains silent for a solid minute. “I want to make my dad suffer. But not just a little—severely. Not something quick and easy. Eternally. I want him to be miserable and in agony for the remainder of his life.”
Her shock has faded, masked by determination and hatred. But the surprise returns when I tell her, “Then let’s do it. Let’s make the bastard pay. Eternally.”
“I’m not talking about the silly football game, Cade.” She squirms, attempting to slide out from beneath me. But I hold her in place. She’s not getting off the hook. Because I’ll give her exactly what she wants.
“I’m not either. Whatever you want to do, I’m in.”
Going still, she watches me with curiosity. “What if I told you I wanted to kill him?”
“I’d ask you how and when so we could make sure it’s the best strategy.”
She lets out a chuckle. “Sure. The hero would team up with me to commit murder.”
“Yes. I would. But he deserves worse than that.”
Her eyes stay locked with mine as she remains quiet for a few seconds. “You’re right. Which is why I don’t want to kill him. It’s too easy on him. I want him to suffer.”
“Then it sounds like we need a plan. And over breakfast is a good time to discuss that.”
“We’re not together, Cade. We’re not going to be. There’s no teamwork that is going to saveus.”
I don’t agree but keep that opinion to myself, because she’s fully convinced there’s no way we could ever be a couple. But I know different. Because we might not be great together, but we don’t stand a chance apart.
23
CADE
She’s always been distracting. But how is shemoredistracting now that we’re halfway to getting along? I don’t need her to label us, I don’t need a fucking word or title. But we’re doing everything a couple does when they date and more. There’s not a night I haven’t slept without her. And the best part is she hasn’t told me to fuck off at all.
My offer to help make her dad pay seemed to click her bitch switch off towards me, and it’s not hard to figure out it’s solely focused now on Coach King. And I’m good with that. I didn’t offer just to get on her good side. I want the asshole to suffer too.
“Head in the game, Crawford,” Coach yells from the sideline as I look down the field, realizing I’m supposed to be out there.
I yell “Fuck you” back but doubt he heard it over the deafening crowd. It’s an away game, but it’s only an hour from Saint Juliet, so our sea of green is double the size of the home team’s royal blue.
We’re ahead by seven points. There’s still some time on the board. All we have to do is run the clock down and not give them the ball back. And I easily do. After a few hand offs, we gradually reach the first-down marker and run the clock out until it’s game over. Another fucking win. Great.
To my dismay, I see Coach celebrating on the sidelines with my teammates. My team. The guys I’m busting my ass for but won’t be able to let them get to the finish line. Because of that heartless bastard.
Looking over to the track where the squad is cheering, I see Morgan standing with her arms folded over her chest, eyes on me. Walking over, I stop in front of her, drop my helmet then wrap my arms around her lower back and pull her against me. First, I give her a quick, impatient kiss before I move my mouth to her ear. “One step closer to finishing off the bastard.”
“First, you have to not choke under pressure.” Her sarcasm is a good sign, and so is the smile I see peeking at her lips.
“I’ll meet you by your car.” I give her a swift peck on her cheek.
“I’m not waiting. Just ride the bus home.”
“Hard pass.” I use one of her favorite phrases on her and hope she doesn’t leave my ass here just to make a point. Because I really don’t want to ride the team bus back to Saint Juliet. If anything, I’ll catch a ride with Neil if my she-devil abandons me.
Something tells me she won’t though. And once I’m in the locker room, I grab my bag and take a second to quickly rinse the stink off. Ass and armpits. The basics. Then I pull on a T-shirt and jeans all while trying to push out my intrusive thoughts because this fancy, preppy-ass locker room for the visiting team once again reminds me I’m out of my league with their fancy showers and plush seating.
Neil and Topher talk about heading out to grab a bite to eat, but I really don’t feel like going. Though if Morgan is, then I will too. When I make my way out to the lot, Neil is running to catch up with me as he carries a duffel bag. “Hey, I was just talking to Dustin”—he pauses for a few seconds—“and your dad.”
Dustin I don’t mind, but knowing my father is still lurking around our games is information I could’ve lived without. When I don’t respond, Neil keeps talking and changes the topic of conversation. “Are y’all going to the diner?”
“I don’t know.” Glancing to the lot up ahead, I see Morgan propped up against the hood of her car with a few douchebags from the opposing team around her. A surge of unwanted jealousy rises in me as I toss my gear into the back of Neil’s truck as we walk past.
Neil does the same and follows beside me. Most likely because Savannah is standing near Morgan. But I can only see Morgan and the dickhead who was talking shit on the field the entire game, and now here he is talking to her. Clearly a cheerleader from Saint Juliet with the green and gold uniform that she’s still donning. Though a slight smile peeks at the corner of her lips when she spots me staring down the asshole beside her. Of course, she wouldn’t mind if I started some shit. It is Morgan, after all, the one who lives for fuckery. But I don’t have time for it.
