8. Lucas

Greg clears his throat, stepping forward. "Mr. Hoffman, while I respect any decision you make based on the circumstances, don't you think that's a little extreme? I understand that we want to make an example out of Jase and Lucas, but I think that cutting them both from the team is a little harsh. Do you really want to lose two players when you still have a chance to turn things around before the playoffs?"

Reed looks at him like he's grown a dick out of his forehead. "Do you think I'm ignorant enough to believe that even with these two clowns on the field we have a chance at the playoffs?" Then he looks between me and Lucas, his eyes glittering with disdain. "Maybe it's a good time to get rid of dead weight so I can get a couple of players who can actually help us get close to the Super Bowl."

I almost choke on the growing lump in my throat. I'd always heard that Reed Hoffman was a complete asshat and never understood why he decided to buy a team he has absolutely no faith in, but deep down, I really wanted to be one of the guys who could make a difference. I grew up a Crusaders fan and knew that they'd been struggling for years. And yeah, being here in Cincinnati was the best decision for my family, but maybe it was also part pipe dream for me to get drafted here, to help bring them back to the greatness they experienced years ago.

And that dream is like a cockroach crawling closer and closer to Hoffman. It's only a matter of time before he raises his foot and smashes the shit out of it.

My eyes skate toward Reed's son, Trevor. His glowering stare makes my heart thunder in my chest.

Of all the fucking guys on the damn planet that I had to run into the night I signed my contract.

A swift knock at the office door jolts me from the memory that makes my skin crawl with regret. Maybe it's Coach Greaves here to plead his case for keeping us on the roster. My pulse smashes against my throat. Getting cut as a rookie from a struggling team because of a harsh display of animalistic brutality isn't going to make me an easy sell to another team, even with a huge pay cut.

An image of my sister's alarmed expression flashes in front of my eyes.

Shit.

I can't let the kids down. I need to take control of this. I have to do?—

But before I can finish my self-pep talk, Marc Burillo, the team's head of PR, walks into the room and speaks in a smooth, confident voice. "Sorry I'm late. I was just on the phone with one of our attorneys."

"I hope you began the severance conversation," Reed growls.

"I'd actually like to give you another alternative." Marc sinks into a plush leather chair, ignoring the fact that the rest of us are standing around the room. "One that will cost you a tremendous amount less and keep your team intact for the next few months since you know that we'd be at a disadvantage by losing two players at this point in the season."

Reed folds his arms over his chest. "So far, I don't like the sound of your alternative."

Out of the corner of my eye, Jase stiffens under Reed's angry glare.

My gut churns. Looks like they despise one another, and fuck my life, that's not a good thing for me. I can't help feeling I'm being lumped in the center of a big, fat retribution sandwich, and being plastered together with Jase in this situation isn't nearly as hot as I'd like it to be.

A nagging thought grates on my brain. Hoffman moved damn fast on the news of this brawl. Makes me wonder if he was just waiting for something like this to happen so he could use it against Jase, who he already admitted had been a pain in his ass. Gabe Kelly is his star quarterback. Maybe this kind of bad press is just what he'd been hoping for, so he could use it as an excuse to axe Jase.

My eyes tangle with Trevor's.

Or a torrid night from my past is coming back to bite me and Jase both in the ass.

Sweat beads on my back, my shirt sticking to my slick skin.

Why did I go out last night? I barely go out, especially when the football season is in full swing. I should have stayed home and helped Ella with her science project.

Horror clenches my heart.

Who the fuck is going to do projects with the kids if they get taken away from me because I didn't walk away from certain disaster when I had the chance?

I bring a hand to the back of my neck and rub the stress knot, shifting under the stare of the only one-night stand I've ever had. If the ground decided to crack open and swallow me, I'd be okay with it.

Marc sits back and folds his hands together. "I propose a four-game suspension for both players, as well as high-profile community service."

Reed lets out a snort. "Why the hell should we go so easy on them after the heat they just brought on the team?"

Marc stands up and paces in front of Reed's desk. "A few reasons, actually. First, if you really do want to make changes to the roster, taking these guys out for four weeks will give you an idea of how the second strings will work in their places. See how the team dynamic changes, if it improves or worsens. Consider it a test before you make any moves."

Reed nods his head, fingers massaging his chin as Marc continues.

"Second, we put Jase and Lucas to work on local charity work. I have some organizations in mind, and with two of your starting players working to better the community, it will shine a positive light on the Crusaders." He pauses, a smug smile lifting his lips. "And third, because of some dirt I managed to gather on the ringleader, he was convinced to not press charges on either Jase or Lucas. So what we have here is a little bit of bad press that we can turn into a positive for the team and the city. Cutting two of your starters isn't a look you want right now, Reed. You want to show support for your players and help them however you need to be the strongest they can be. Let their charity work outshine the viral videos."

Reed's lips press into a tight line. "What kind of dirt are we talking about?"

"The kind of dirt that will have his wife filing for divorce so fast he won't even remember the name Jase Maxwell after she's put him through the wringer."

A flicker of hope ignites in my heart. I don't know how the hell Marc managed to find a bargaining chip so fast, but as far as I'm concerned, he's worth his weight in gold if he can keep us out of court, or worse, jail.

"We need the world to love these guys and I can make that happen."

He looks at me and then at Jase. "You both have a lot riding on this proposal. If you fuck up again, you can kiss your spots and endorsement deals goodbye, and good luck getting any new offers."

"I'll do whatever you recommend. I want what's best for the team."

"Good answer," Reed grunts. "Trevor, you're going to make sure that these two do exactly as they're instructed. If either of them step out of line, I want to know." He glares at us again. "And fuck three strikes. You mess up once, and you're out. Consider this your first and last chance."

My temples throb with the force of a caffeine headache, except the only cure I can think of is straight whiskey to dull the pain… not only because of the mess I waded into, but because of the guy who's going to be tracking my every move and reporting back to his father.

Regrets. Does the list ever end?

Everyone clears out of the room. Greg, Rex, and Marc stick together while Reed stalks off like he's got a pole shoved up his ass. I lose track of Trevor. My eyes latch on to Jase as he steps back into the hallway. Even with his shoulders hunched and his head hung, he still manages to walk with the cocky swagger I've drooled over for the past few months. He runs a hand through his wild hair, but it resists the suggestion and falls back over his eyes like he never touched it at all.

I want to rake my own fingers through it, to tug on it, to grasp it in my fist while commanding his lips again.

I also want to thank him for trying to take the brunt of the punishment for me. He didn't need to do that. I don't get why he thinks I need to be protected, but maybe that means something else… Maybe it's because that kiss meant something else to him other than a way out of a sticky situation.

I follow him out the door, but before I make it into the hallway, Trevor grabs my arm and yanks me toward him. Prick must've been hanging around, waiting to pounce on me.

"I'm not convinced," Trevor says, taking a few steps toward me, a menacing smirk on his lips. "That you guys are going to take this plan seriously. So I'm going to be watching, Lucas. Every single move you make."

I narrow my eyes at him and shake off his hand. "This isn't an open invitation for you to invade my space, Trevor. It was a mistake to do what we did, but this is my career. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, but don't use this as a way to get back at me. I told you we couldn't happen because there was too much of a conflict."

"I know what you told me," he says, moving closer so that his lips hum against my ear. My stomach clenches and not in the good way. "But maybe this will convince you that we can be a good team after all. That spending time together can be for the benefit of the team. Are you going to give my father a reason to pull the plug on you?"

Is he fucking kidding me?

"This is my career," I say again.

Trevor nods. "That's right. Just remember that. And remember what you'd do to keep your precious career. I'll be in touch."

He strides past me. I ball my fingers into tight fists. That arrogant son of a bitch. Reed gives his son way too much power, as far as I'm concerned. And with that power comes complete and utter irresponsibility. If I don't do what he wants, he'll fucking destroy me, even if it's not deserved. Trevor gets what Trevor wants, always.

I slipped through the cracks once. He won't let me do it twice.

I was always afraid the other shoe might pummel me at some point, and here it fucking is.

Dread sets into my bones as I stagger out of the office, my entire world rocked. Taking a few deep breaths, I think about Ella and Nick. They're my priorities. I have to play nice with Trevor because if I don't, it means I stand to lose more than just my career.

Jase stands in a corner midway down the hallway, staring at his phone. The other guys are still mumbling together in their little huddle a few feet away.

I stop once I'm in front of him, toe to toe with his black Nike-clad feet. He slowly lifts his head from the screen, his blue eyes icy. A chill slithers down the slope of my spine under his disarming gaze.

"I just wanted to say thanks."

"For?" His voice is flat despite the spark of ire glimmering in the depths of his blue pools.

"For offering to let me off the hook. You didn't need to do that. I thought after last night you knew I wouldn't have let you take the blame for it all."

Jase lets out a snide laugh. "Don't get the wrong idea, Bentley. I didn't do it to save your ass. We're not friends and we never will be, no matter how much they throw us together and make us poster boys for whatever the hell charity they want us to represent." His lips pull into a grimace as he eyes me like I'm a maggot on his steak. "You should have just walked away when you had the chance. ‘Cause I guarantee you'll be running the fuck away from me long before these four weeks are up."