11. Matt

Ican't get out of the conference room fast enough after Marc wraps things up.

Tugging at the collar of my shirt, I push past Marc and Zak and head for the door. The press is still buzzing, and I see a few make a beeline for me. All the more reason to get the fuck out of here immediately, if not sooner. The air is so thick with tension, it chokes me, slowly and agonizingly.

I grab my phone out of my pocket and stare down at the screen while I walk. Those press people sure didn't waste any time putting their two cents out there for the world to see. A sea of notifications swallows my screen saver. Everyone has something to say about me jumping to Zak's defense, especially after I saved his ass last night outside of the event.

Frowning, I scroll through the text. Some claim he paid me to say that stuff during the press conference, some think he's hanging my contract over my head as leverage to make him look competent, while others believe he's using my fame to put him in good graces with the team and fans.

Whatever they think doesn't matter because now the spotlight is on me, not him and his supposed secret desire to turn the Crusaders into an all-gay team. I mean, what the fuck kind of shit is that? Who even came up with that idea?

I spoke out for him because I couldn't the first time.

And I meant every single word I said.

The sport lost an amazing talent eight years ago. Football recovered, but I'm afraid Zak never did.

Maybe he never will.

I stop once I get to the end of a quiet hallway just past a set of elevators. Somehow, I managed to dodge all the vultures. They'll be leaving through the main elevator bank, not this one, which is usually reserved for management. With a pounding pulse, I take a few gulps of air. Blood rushes between my temples.

"You have a choice, Harrison. You can save Kacey or yourself. What's it gonna be?"

Tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. I scrub a hand over my skin. Beads of sweat form along the sides of my head.

"Don't take this away from him. He didn't do anything to deserve it."

My heart thumps hard. I squeeze my eyes closed, pressing my hand against a wall to clear my mind of the toxic scene.

"Who the fuck are you kidding, Harrison? I know you too well. You're gonna protect your own ass and let Kacey take the fall."

The ringing sound of clashing cymbals rattles my eardrums. Short, sharp gasps slip from my lips, a crippling pain shoots down my left arm.

I hunch over with a hiss and sink to my knees. Leaning forward with my forehead to the white painted wall, a disturbing slew of images wallpapers my mind. Flashing white stadium lights, a sea of red jerseys, panicked faces streaked with tears, blood-stained walls, shattered liquor bottles, and assault rifles pointed straight at me.

The collision of two worlds, and I'm caught in the middle of both.

Dizziness assaults me.

Fuck. Am I seriously having a panic attack right now?

I take a deep breath and stagger to my feet. My head feels like it's being pounded on like a gong. A little more oxygen and I should be okay to get the hell out of here so I can let the fa?ade fall away in the privacy of my truck. I take a few steps, clutching my stomach. It growls like a predator because I haven't eaten since the event last night.

I walk toward a stairway that leads to the lower level of the stadium, instead. I figured most of the press would park in the main area and as a player, I have parking privileges that allow me a more secure and protected spot.

My phone buzzes in my hand. I glance at the screen to see Summer's name flash across it.

I stab the Accept button. "Hey, is everything okay, sweetie?"

Her teary voice makes my throat tighten. I wrap the fingers of my free hand into a tight fist, and fuck, I wanna launch it at my father's face so damn hard that's it'd shatter his jaw on impact.

"I had a nightmare. I'm so scared those men will take us again. And what happens if you don't get here in enough time? What if they get me, Missy, and Mom? If they…" A sob explodes from her throat. "Do stuff to us? Or kill us?"

Rage courses through me, ready to spew like molten lava.

"I'm not gonna let that happen. I promise. I'm gonna take care of you. You just keep an eye out and report back to me if anything looks weird or unsafe." I scrub my hand down the front of my face. "I'm gonna get you out of there. I won't leave you ever. You're my girl, and I love you. Okay?"

Summer sniffles. "Okay. I trust you. And I love you, too."

"I'll call you later, okay, babe?" I need to get the fuck out of here and figure this shit out before my father gets into any more trouble.

"Yes. I love you so much, Matt."

"Love you, babe." Just as I click to end the call, footsteps behind me make my teeth grit.

Son of a bitch. Somebody found me.

I pick up the pace and head for the exit door. I can almost grab the brass handle when a strong hand clasps my shoulder and pulls me backward.

Dread washes over me. I can't turn around. I'm a fucking mess, and anyone who looks will see everything I shoved behind that bullshit fa?ade in the conference room.

"What the fuck was that all about? All that bullshit coming out of your mouth? Since when do you give a damn about me?"

My spine stiffens at the anger dripping from Zak's words. "Leave me alone."

"No, you don't get to shut down like that. Not after what you did. Turn the fuck around."

I slowly twist in his direction. Despite the hellfire raining down on my life, I can't help being pulled into those dark, chocolatey pools again. They're so turbulent, like a storm is brewing in the depths. I should pull my gaze away before I get sucked in any further than I already am.

Because that storm has the power to destroy me.

"You think that just because you said all that, it's going to ease your guilty conscience? That it can redeem you for what you did?"

My fingers twitch. I want to claw at his thick, dark hair, to tug it as his beard scrapes against my face.

"Because it can't," he seethes. "Nothing you do will erase what happened. I trusted you, and you used it against me to save your own ass. You ruined me and ran the other way like you never even knew me." He bares his teeth, closing the space between us. "Like I meant fucking nothing to you. And you think you can ride in on your goddamn white horse to save me from the rest of the world when you didn't give a flying fuck to stand up to your own teammates. You're pathetic."

Pathetic. Backstabber. Liar. Cheater.

There's no shortage of things to tack onto that list.

"I said that stuff because it was true. Not to ease my conscience. That wasn't some PR stunt."

"You're eight years too late. I don't need your help." He backs away, his nostrils flaring. "This was a mistake. I can fix this team and my reputation without you."

"You need to take your head out of your ass and see what's right in front of you. One wrong move and you'll lose the fans. If that happens, you're fucked. We all are. So, you're gonna suck it the fuck up and let me do what Marc wants. Otherwise, you can kiss your team goodbye."

His eyes widen. "I guess you're the expert in knowing when things are about to go up in smoke."

I press my fingers against my temples, Summer's tear-streaked face flashing in front of my eyes. "I know better than anyone how fast that can happen."

"Yeah, you're the expert. And this time you're using Anna Taylor as a way to take focus off yourself. Always using someone. Smoke and mirrors. Anything to keep attention off of who you really are, the person you hide from the world. It's got to be fucking exhausting to lie all the time about who you really are, what you've done to get what you want, and who you've hurt in the process."

"I think it's you who's the liar. Because for someone who claims to hate me, you sure as hell find enough ways to corner me. So, it's time to shit or get off the pot, Zak. Punch me," I growl through gritted teeth. "Or fucking kiss me because we both know you want to."