28. Bryant

Jack barges into my office, interrupting a meeting with Tuck and one of the freshman coaches.

"I need to talk to you. Now."

I sit up straighter in my seat, appalled by his tone. I know he"s mad at me for putting him off last night, but disrespecting me in front of my colleagues is a step too far.

"Excuse you? This isn"t a good time, Jack."

He looks straight at me. The fear and panic in his eyes cut me to my core. "We have a problem."

I hesitate, looking over to the two coaches that are watching our exchange with concern. Jack"s head gives a curt shake, letting me know that this is definitely a private matter. His face is too pale, his body language too agitated to ignore.

Fuck.

I assess him from head to toe. It"s clear that he hasn"t slept, and I"m pretty sure those are the clothes he left in last night. I didn"t lie to him when I said I wasn"t home, but I also wasn"t exactly busy. I was sitting in the parking lot, I watched him leave, and then followed him. I was far back enough that when he looked around before snapping a picture of his dick, he didn"t even notice me. I followed him all the way to the party, and finally left when I saw him kissing a girl through the kitchen window. What could have happened between then and now to make him this upset?

My anxiety goes immediately to the worst-case scenario. He got too drunk and caused major damage to campus property. He had sex with a staff member"s daughter. Or son, and got caught. Or maybe he beat someone senseless and put them in the hospital.

The two coaches in my office stand up. "We"ll leave you to it," Tuck says. "Let me know if I can help," he tells me, his concern obvious.

Jack slams the door behind him and locks it. Then he starts pacing, rubbing his hands over his face and pulling his hair.

"I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up," he repeats with every stride.

"Perry!" I bark. "Sit down and tell me what the fuck happened. Whatever it is, I"ll try to help you out of it. But you need to calm the fuck down."

"We"re in trouble," he says. It takes me a moment to process it. We. We're in trouble. It's not the words, but the way he looks at me, tears welling in his eyes, that breaks my heart.

"What happened?" I ask, keeping my voice controlled, forcing my words to come out low and slow.

"Aniyah got my phone at the party last night."

"And?"

I think I know what he"s going to say before he says it, but I need to hear it from his mouth. What I thought could be the worst-case scenario doesn"t even touch this. Because all of those things are fixable, but this…

"I think I have it handled, but you should know…"

"Fucking spit it out, Jack."

"Aniyah saw a picture and a video that were saved on my phone. Of us. One of the video chats."

"You recorded it? Fuck! Jack, what were you thinking?!"

"I wasn"t! Obviously. Or I was letting my dick think for me. I"m?—"

I stand up forcefully, sending my chair crashing into the wall behind me, and tipping over. Now I"m the one pacing.

Fuck!

"How could you do this?"

"I"m sorry, I–"

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Jack. I"m out of a job if this gets out, and you can kiss your draft prospects goodbye."

"It might not come to that. I think I"ve got a handle on it, but?—"

"But what, Jack!?"

"I don"t know. I don"t exactly trust her."

The pulse in my temple throbs so violently I feel like it could burst at any moment. My heartbeat is pushing nausea up my throat, and it burns like bad reflux. I"m so dizzy that I need to sit down, but I knocked my chair over. I walk around and sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk instead, putting my head in my hands, trying to steady the spinning room.

"Exactly how are you handling this?" I ask, my voice as calm as I can make it.

"Bribery," he says. "I told her about the signing bonus that the scouts all but promised me."

"And that was enough?" I ask, skeptically.

He makes an uncomfortable face, and I know that isn"t the end of this. "There"s a bit more to it, but I"m handling it."

I want to ask, but I also don"t want to know. I need to know, though. Jack"s phone pings and his face blanches. He swipes a hand through his hair.

"I, uh, I have to go, do a little damage control. But I"ve got it under control, okay? I just needed you to know. And…" he takes a shuttered breath. "I"m so sorry."

I can"t even look at him.

"Bryant—" I give him a warning look, because he doesn"t get to call me that. Not here. Not now. Maybe not ever again.

He drops to his knees in front of me, looking up at me with pleading eyes. "Please don"t?—"

His phone pings again, twice in quick succession.

"You should go," I say flatly, not looking him in the eye.

As he"s leaving my office, he stops and turns around one last time.

"I"m sorry."

For a while after he leaves, I"m completely rooted to my seat. My mind is racing, but none of my thoughts are clear or useful.

The most overwhelming of all my thoughts is that I"ll never have Jack again, not in the way I want him. If we somehow escape this unscathed, it will be even more unsafe to continue the way we have. We"ll be walking on eggshells for the rest of the year, or perhaps even longer. Who"s to say if she"ll keep her end of whatever bargain Jack made with her? And what kind of deal could he have made, anyway?

Whatever the case, I"m fucked.

Possibly fucked out of a job. Fucked out of a reputation that could keep me from getting another job. And worst of all, fucked out of a relationship that was beginning to mean something to me. To mean everything to me.

"Hey, Bryant. Is everything okay?"

I blink up at Tuck, who stares down at me with concern. How long has he been there?

"Are you alright?"

My nod is unconvincing at best, but I can"t put enough words or thoughts together to make any excuses.

"I, uh… I need to go," I say. Without any further explanation, I stand up and grab my keys and walk out.

I don"t remember the drive back to my house, or coming inside. I don"t remember opening the bottle of Macallan and pouring a glass. I don"t remember what the first sip tastes like, or when I started drinking directly out of the bottle.

The only thing my brain can process is Jack"s face when he shows up on my doorstep and sees me holding a half empty bottle of scotch.