21. Jase

Ireach up to loosen the tie knotted around my neck. It doesn't do much to relieve the sensation of being throttled by an imaginary hand, though.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lucas talking to one of the offensive linemen on the far side of the benches. Far, far from me. Not that I miss a single move he makes.

I hunch forward on my one good elbow, my hair falling into my eyes. It makes a great curtain to hide my wandering gaze. A twinge of pain shoots down my cast arm and I suck in a breath.

This suspension is double fucking torture. I have three-plus hours to watch Lucas and the game I desperately miss, knowing I can't have either one. I yank my eyes away from his muscled body, ignoring the way my mouth waters when he moves in any direction in that blue suit. The color is bright but muted at the same time and makes his green eyes pop. I curl my fingers into a tight fist. Right now, they're laughing and twinkling.

They used to do the same when he looked at me, but I gave up that privilege like the fucking asshole I keep trying to prove I am.

Looks like I was finally successful.

I turn my attention back to the field just in time to see Gabe Kelly get sacked by Ollie Mann, one of the offensive linemen on the Chicago Hawks, on a third-down play.

"Shit," I mutter, letting out a deep sigh.

Coach Greaves paces the sidelines, screaming and waving his hands overhead. The ball is hiked to Gabe again and he runs backward, launching a perfect spiral to Joe Atwater, one of the running backs, to make a rushing play.

I jump off the bench at the same time Atwater leaps into the air and catches the ball. He's only a few yards away from the end zone, and by some miracle, he flips around the linebacker on his heels and runs his ass off to make the touchdown.

Everyone on the sidelines goes apeshit when Atwater spikes the ball and does his classic touchdown shimmy. We all run onto the field to attack Kelly and Atwater. I'm about to hurl myself right into the melee when someone grabs me by the sleeve.

"Get the fuck outta there, Maxwell," Coach Greaves yells. "You wanna bust that cast in half?"

I flash a sheepish grin and back away. "Sorry. Got caught up in the moment."

He claps a hand on my shoulder. "This suspension is bullshit, if you ask me. I believe you guys and I'd like nothing more than to see you both out here, getting us to the playoffs."

I nod. "We get there, I'm playing. I already told the doc. They're gonna put a tight little contraption together to keep my arm protected."

"Well, let's hope we keep up this streak so we can make that happen."

I stay back a few feet, watching the team scream and cheer because they finally see a flicker of light at the end of the tunnel. After a crap season last year, we actually have a fighting chance to make the playoffs.

"Rookie!" one of the tight ends yells, grabbing Lucas and pulling him into the middle of the group. His wide smile jars me. He's happy, part of the team, confident in himself, welcomed by everyone else.

He's got such a natural way with people. Even as a rookie, he took on a leadership role pretty quickly after being drafted. He's young but so bright-eyed and optimistic that it's contagious. Impossible to ignore. I've watched him with a lot of guys on the team. He makes them feel like they're important and part of something bigger and better than themselves.

He's done that for me.

I swallow hard, watching the team rally around him, Gabe, and Atwater.

Fuck. These feelings aren't gonna do anything but get me into trouble. I swore to myself I'd stay away from him, to keep myself away from any temptation after that afternoon at his place. It's why I try to avoid him while we're here, but it's hard because we're supposed to be working as a team. The whole idea of doing the service together is to show camaraderie or some bullshit like that. I just can't bring myself to look him in the eye because I'm convinced it'll give my very indecent fantasies away completely, and then he'll see everything I'm trying to hide from him.

Way too risky.

So I stick around Project Renewal for ten minutes longer than I need to, just until after Lucas leaves every night. We need distance even though it makes my heart clench every time I secretly watch his back as he walks out the door every night.

I know that space will help me get past whatever he's done to my heart.

But deep down, I don't want to be away from him.

I was just fine before that first kiss. Held everything together, kept shit nice and neat and tightly wrapped. That one taste was the beginning of my downward spiral into a place I know I wouldn't ever be able to escape. So the only option was to claw my way out before it was too late.

Gabe breaks away from the guys and walks over to me, his helmet in hand. "How're you hanging in there, Maxwell?"

I shrug. "I've had better days."

"Not recently." He smirks. "You can't suck on the field if you're not on it, right?"

I flip him off but my face relaxes into a smile. "I deserved that."

"Fucking A right you do." He puts a hand on my good shoulder. "We miss you out there, sucking ass."

"You're gonna be kissing it when I'm back and wiping the field with the competition during the playoffs."

"You're a cocky bastard, you know that?"

I chuckle. "Nah, never heard that before."

Gabe smiles at me. "It was good to see you, bro. Rest that arm; otherwise, there won't be any ass to kiss."

"Pucker up, buttercup." I give his shoulder pads a little punch and he walks past me toward the sidelines where the press is eagerly gathered to fire off some questions about the game.

I rake a hand through my messy hair, turning to watch Gabe, Coach, and Atwater talking to the reporters. I don't know what made Gabe decide to come over to me today since I've never given him a reason to give a damn whether I'm alive or dead.

But today, I feel more connected to him than I ever have before, and I didn't even play the damn game.

Maybe it's because I really don't want to be thought of as the team douchebag anymore. Maybe it's because Lucas showed me that I don't need to be in self-imposed solitary confinement, and that if I want to be part of something great, it's right here in front of me. I just need to open myself up to it.

I might not be ready to share my whole self with the world, but I can at least fix some of the things that I ironically ended up breaking because I was so bent on protecting myself.

Like team relationships.

Gabe Kelly is one of the greats, and instead of feeling threatened by him, I should respect him and learn from his example. Because he's not the real threat to me and my career.

Iam.

And if I want this life as bad as I claim to, I need to hang on tight to it and stop making fucking stupid decisions that may ruin it for me.

A few minutes later, I trudge through the tunnel and stop outside Dr. Mercer's exam room. I knock on the side of the door and he looks up from his laptop, a smile on his face.

"How's the arm?"

I walk into the room and lean against the back wall. "It's not horrible. I really miss driving, though."

He lifts an eyebrow. "I've heard a lot about the way you drive. You may miss it, but I think the rest of the city is damn relieved you're Ubering around now."

A snicker escapes my lips. "It's only temporary. Pretty soon, I'll be tooling around again and then watch out, world. Three weeks, yeah? Just in time for us to make the playoffs."

Dr. Mercer's smile fades, his expression sobering. "I really think we need to take it one day at a time and not put a deadline on your recovery. You only have a fracture now, but another bad hit can be detrimental to your healing process. It's not worth missing an entire season to play one game?—"

"It won't be just one game, Doc. If we make it, we're going all the way. And I wanna be in it. Don't you get that?"

He stands up from his chair and places his hands on his desk. "Jase, you have to understand the risks. The last thing you want is to do even more damage to yourself. You managed to avoid surgery this time, but if you aggravate the area, there's no telling what might happen. It's just not worth it."

"Not to you, maybe." My throat tightens. "But to me, it's everything. All I have, all I've worked for."

Dr. Mercer is quiet for a long minute. Longest damn one of my life. "I can't sign off on it right now. We need some time to assess. You'll continue to heal, and we'll see how the team progresses. In a couple of weeks, we'll take some more X-rays, check things out before making a final call."

I give a swift nod. "Fair."

He smiles. "I hear you're doing great things with Project Renewal. I've worked with Evelyn in the past doing medical work for a local clinic. She said the kids are really thriving. Good for you, guys. Sometimes good things can come out of bad press." He winks at me.

I force a smile back but can't shake the tightness in my chest and the ache in my heart. "I'll see you next week."

I leave the office, wandering down the hallway toward the player parking garage. My phone buzzes with a text. I pull it out and click on my brother's text.

Crusaders played great today.Can't wait to meet them in the playoffs.

I stare at the words,my finger hovering over the screen when I hear muffled voices not too far away from me. I raise my gaze from the screen. Lucas stands with Trevor on the other side of the hallway, disgust and anger in his narrowed eyes. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle at his stricken expression.

I stuff my phone into my pocket. Lucas does an about-face and stalks toward the elevator while Trevor watches him, a shit-eating grin on his pompous-ass face. I stalk over to him, grab him by the shoulder, and twist him around to face me.

Hard.

He yelps. "What the fuck, Maxwell? You don't get to touch me."

"What the hell was that all about?" I nod my head toward the elevator Lucas just disappeared into.

Trevor's jaw twitches. "None of your goddamn business."

"Leave Lucas the fuck alone. You don't have any power over either of us. You're a goddamn glorified assistant. And just because your father owns the team?—"

Trevor holds up a hand. "Let me stop you right there." He steps closer, his eyes dark and tinged with the threat of danger. "I have plenty of power. Do you want to know how much?"

He grins, a devious, malicious smirk that I want so badly to slice off his fucking face. "I can pull the plug on your career and make that shelter the only place willing to keep you around. Keep your fucking nose out of things that don't concern you. And from now on, you stay the fuck away from Lucas Bentley… or else."