23. Luke

TWENTY-THREE

LUKE

Two Days Later

I grab one of the water bottles from the bench after I run off the field, and open it only to dump all of its content over my face.

Fuck it's hot. That's early July in Nevada for you. We spent all of yesterday by the pool, celebrating the fourth of July only with the kids, Gordon, and Bennett's parents. It was perfect, lowkey and full of laughter. Now it's back to work for me.

My chest heaves up and down as I stay standing like that, head up with my eyes closed. I need to get my breath back before I have to go back out there for the next rep.

I lower my head to see Weston, our brand-new wide receiver jump around four feet in the fucking air and catch the ball. With two hands too. I see Rashan's influence over the kid who came strutting in two months ago and started catching my passes with one hand .

I was about to rip him a new one—ball security isn't second to anything let alone showing off—but Rashan held me back and went to talk to the kid. He's been doing better ever since and I can't wait to see what he does during the preseason games.

Something in my peripheral vision catches my eyes and I turn to see Felix, the PR guy for the Rogues, running out of the tunnel toward me.

He doesn't look happy to be running. He actually looks more like he's panicking.

"You need to come with me," he says quickly, but runs past me and right to coach Richards. My head coach doesn't look happy, but the actual training camp where all the media and fans can watch doesn't start until tomorrow, so he can't actually forbid me from leaving.

He looks over at me and nods, so I nod back and follow Felix at a quick pace into the administration part of the building.

He leads me to his office and simply hands me a tablet with a black screen except for the video controls that are displayed. I just tap it to start it so I can get back out?—

Holy motherfucker, is the only thing I can think as I see Marcy on the screen with some journalist asking her how long she's known me.

"I've known him since kindergarten, yes. And we dated for two years in high school until he dumped me and humiliated me in front of all our town. I had to leave my home. When I came back a couple of years ago, I reconnected with his father, and we had our beautiful boy." She sniffles like she's crying, but there are no tears. God, she's such a lying...

"I haven't seen him in so long, and then I saw a picture of him with my Robert all happy and carefree at that sports thing." A picture of me holding Robbie, where we're smiling at each other inside of Gab's suite at the Pirates' Arena comes on the screen.

"What the fuck?" I murmur.

"A fan took it and posted it along with the next one."

Sure enough, a picture of what happened the next minute shows up. Bennett had come over to us and I'd pulled him into a hug and kissed his forehead.

Marcy keeps talking in the background of the video.

"Like he didn't take my baby from me, like he's not a horrible human being. He never even spoke to his father, a good man, after he left for college."

I stop the video. I can't listen to another one of the fucking lies she's spewing.

"I need to go home," I say in a daze and just walk out of the office. I need to see that Robbie's home, and that he's okay.

I park my SUV and walk inside to see a picture that would make me smile ninety-nine percent of the time. Today is that one percent. Bennett, Gordon, and Robbie are dancing around the coffee table in the living room while some kids song plays from the TV.

It's silly, it's lighthearted, and fun. And all of that's about to change.

I rush to Robbie and pick him up. I need to hold him.

"Uke!" he says excitedly as soon as he realizes it's me.

And then holding him, that's when I begin to feel myself unravel. My whole body starts to shake, and I fall to my knees with Robbie safely in my arms.

"What's wrong?" Gordon demands. "What happened? "

"Marcy," I croak out. "She did an interview about some pictures that came out of me and Robbie at the Pirates game."

"What?" Bennett asks, already grabbing his phone from the coffee table.

But I can't answer him. I can only rock my body back and forth on my knees as I repeat he's okay, he's here, no one's taking him, over and over in my head.

"Jesus," I hear Gordon say. Then I hear the interview start again and I just shut it all out. I can't listen to that pile of bullcrap again.

What if child services take him? What if they decide that being with me isn't what's best for him?

I can't let that happen. I fucking won't let that happen. Ever.

"I'm calling the police," Gordon says, and that gets my attention.

"What?"

"That interview wasn't shot in Texas, that has to be in LA, which means she's crossed state lines. That means the FBI can get involved now. I'm calling a friend." Gordon walks out of the room and I just keep staring at the spot where he was standing until Bennett's voice makes me look for him.

He's on the phone. "Yeah, I know, can you please come over?" He nods then ends the call and comes to us. "Gab's on her way. It's going to be okay, pretty boy," he whispers against my temple as he wraps his arms around me and Robbie. "He's going to be perfectly fine. We won't let anyone take him, okay?" I'm more thankful than ever before that I have him next to me. He's thinking rationally, he can, and that's all I need besides having him close.

"Lizzie," I say in a croak, because I need her here too. I need our kids and Bennett with me. I need our family close so I can't doubt for a single second that they're okay. That no one can hurt any of them.

"She's at school. I'll have Mom pick her up in an hour and bring her over. She's fine," he assures me and keeps holding me, brings a hand up to my hair and starts slowly, soothingly combing through it.

"O-okay." I hiccup, and I clench my jaw. "Okay," I say with more conviction. I'm not going to do nothing while they try to find her, wherever she is. And now that I'm thinking about it, yeah, I'm pretty sure that interview was shot in LA, since that's where the network's main studio is. Jesus, Gordon is the strongest man in the world to be able to spring into action so quickly. And against his own daughter. I can't imagine what he must be feeling right now.

Like I did when I drove home he has to be pushing it all down until he can let go and has the space and time to crumble.

Fifteen minutes later, Bennett stands and goes to the front door. It's not only Gab who comes in, to my surprise, but Tristan is here too.

He's reading something on his phone and I feel bad that he's having to work on what's supposed to be his honeymoon.

"Sorry, Tristan, you don't have to?—"

"Shush," is all he says as he keeps reading.

I look at Gab in confusion, and thankfully she understands my unspoken question.

"Harrison planned for them to spend the fourth here so they're not leaving for their honeymoon until tomorrow morning, and he volunteered to help out. I didn't even call him."

"Thanks," I whisper. "What is he reading?"

"Your contract."

"What?" I ask, panicking now. "You're?—"

"Relax, I'm not firing you. He just wants to make sure what you can and can't do in response to this. I bet you wanna go all Gab on every reporter's ass right about now, so he's reading through the public relations clauses. And my own contract with the NFL as well."

"Oh," I mumble, weirdly unable to feel even the relief. "Is there any way I could never talk to them again?"

Gab snorts but Tristan hums thoughtfully. "Maybe, just let me keep reading."

"Okay," Gab says, eyes wide open. She looks and sounds impressed—a hard feat, but from what Sterling and Jules have told me about him, Tristan gets that reaction out of most people.

"They're looking for her now in California and the surrounding states as well. Airports have been notified," Gordon says as he walks into the room. He looks pale and it's not like I can blame him, honestly.

"Every sports news channel, blog, account, and program is talking about it," Gab grumbles. "No one is saying anything about the police, though."

"How the hell could they not check her background before doing the interview?" Bennett demands. "Or did they just not care?" That's a good fucking question.

"I don't know, but I'm gonna destroy them," I say, finally finding my voice. I walk over to Gordon and pass him a way-too-still Robbie. I crouch down once he's carrying him securely. "Everything's going to be okay, lil' bro. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you or take you away from us, okay?"

"I have an idea," Tristan says suddenly, but Bennett's standing in front of me before he can keep going.

"You don't owe them anything, Luke. None of them. They're shitty people who are shitty at their jobs and you shouldn't have to deal with them in order to fix their fuck ups." The amount of cursing from my beautiful Bennett while he's in front of Robbie would have me teasing him to no end under normal circumstances, but then again, he'd never do that in normal circumstances. I swallow hard, being unable to react the way I want to is just another thing that's pissing me off.

Bennett's unwavering support, and his clear protectiveness over me have me weak in the knees and bolsters me up for a fight at the same time. He's my strength in this moment, and with that, I realize that yeah, I'm going to speak publicly about this shitshow, I want to, and it's thanks to Bennett that I feel I have the strength to.

"You're right, I don't owe them anything. It's a good line, cutie. I might use it." I kiss his lips softly, trying to calm down with a big breath now that I know I can take control of the situation. The state won't give Robbie back to Marcy, there's just no way in hell I'm letting that happen, I'll even go to the press if I have to, which is ironic since they're the ones who caused this mess in the first place. "What's the idea?" I ask turning to Tristan and listen intently.

The Next Morning

I have to watch Marcy's interview all the way through before I can finalize what I actually want to say at the press conference.

There was always going to be a press conference today because it's the first day where the media and fans can watch us train, so no need to plan that.

With Bennett, Gab, and Tristan's help, I wrote a speech I've more or less memorized. But I know I won't get lost, since I have my bullet points written on a post-it stuck to the big stack of paper that's my contract with the Rogues.

I'm prepared. I know what I need to say, and there's actually no one who can stop me. I did give Lindsey a call, and all she told me was that if Gab was on board, I should "definitely rip them a new one,", I think were her exact words.

All I need to do now is open the door to the press room. That's all. Who would've thought it would be this hard?

Supposed to be the easiest part of all of this. Letting go of Bennett when I was about to leave the conference room behind the door next to the one I'm standing in front of was hard enough. I don't think I've stopped touching him for more than thirty seconds since I arrived home yesterday.

Having to turn around after a brief kiss was so fucking hard, and I thought that would be the end of it. But then I walked out, and now I know that nothing about any of this is going to be easy.

I think of yesterday, about how strong Bennett made me feel when he told me "You don't owe them anything." It brings that same sense of determination as I stare at the door.

"Take your time, they'll wait hours for you if they have to," Felix says from next to me and I can't help the snort.

"Yeah, they're frothing at the mouth for a good line they can play over and over to get their clicks, aren't they?" I take a huge breath and bounce a couple of times on my feet to get warmed up. "Okay, let's do this," I say, and nod at Felix who opens the door for me.

The room is alive with activity, and everyone settles down as I walk to the podium and make sure they can see me set my contract on it. The thud of it hitting the wood sounds around the room and I lean into the mic.

"I'm gonna make a statement today. It's going to get wild, believe me, so you better record this." 'Cause you won't get another chance , I think to myself. "I won't be taking any questions after I'm done but don't worry, everything will be answered so I doubt you'll have any anyway." I shrug as if unbothered, as if my insides aren't twisting into knots the longer I'm in the room with what feels like a hundred hungry hyenas just waiting for the perfect moment to strike at me.

"I brought this in here." I pick up my contract and show it to them. "Because I want to make it very clear that I don't owe you anything. This is the contract I signed three years ago with the Rogues, and there's not one single word in it saying I have to talk to you people. I've enjoyed maybe a handful of times that I've been up here. The rest I've dreaded and wanted them to just move faster. You've never made me feel welcome here. You've never even been decent to me, let alone kind. And I never expected you to be.

"But it's always expected of me, isn't it? Your job—supposedly—is to report the facts. That's what journalists are supposed to do, right? But now more than ever, it's clear to me that whatever it's supposed to be isn't reality. Everything I'm about to say isn't about Marcy. Marcy has been spreading lies about me for more than a decade now.

"No. This is about a supposedly reputable national television network, and a supposedly reputable sports journalist giving time and money to someone who's actively being looked for by the police of Texas, and now California."

I wish I could say the shocked gasps throughout the room make me feel good, but they don't. I just feel like shit.

"That's right. The ‘reputable' journalist working for the ‘reputable' network." I make quotation marks with my fingers, not giving a shit that I'm mocking these people in front of the probably millions of people who will see clips of this. "Failed to do the most basic task of a journalist— research . My lawyer and I have more than two dozen testimonies from people who live in Tal—who have known me since I was born, just like they've known Marcy—who simply told their experience on what it was like when they saw Marcy out and about with my brother, Robbie, for the eight months she spent with him. Because yeah, by the way, Marcy has been on the run from the police for months now for a hit and run and for child abandonment.

"My father." I go on, leaning in so they don't miss the irony dripping from every word. "A man who beat me daily, from when I was around five, I'd guess, until I was finally bigger than him at seventeen. The man who stopped feeding me when I was ten, and only had me around so he could direct his hate at someone, until I finally got out of there. That piece of human garbage sued her for child abandonment. I hope you can all reach your own conclusions from knowing those facts.

"I don't want to make this about Marcy, I really don't, because what she did isn't the issue and because I have too much respect for her father. He's the grandfather of my little brother. He served his town as sheriff for decades, and he's the only reason why I didn't die before I reached adulthood. He gave me football. And that means I got extra meals at school, that means people started caring about my well-being, and that's the reason I'm standing before you today as a man who's exceeded all the expectations people had for me when I played in college. He's the only real father figure I've ever had and he also happens to live with me and Robbie.

"The real issue here is the fucking audacity some of you have to come here every day and treat me like it's judgement day, and then do a shitty job on the most basic research one could do. If you had done a search for Marcy's name online yesterday morning, the news story from Tal where she sent another woman to the hospital while she was abandoning her child would've been the first link to come up. Seriously, it wasn't that hard. But you didn't do that, and you gave her a platform to spew lie after lie after lie about me. You put my little brother, who's not even a year and a half old, you put his face all over the internet, when all people had of him before was a fan's picture that actually had a nice message below it.

"It didn't feel safe for me to go back to my hometown while my father was alive, so I didn't. Until I got the call that I'd just become the guardian of a little brother I didn't even know I had. Now I feel even less safe than I already did in this room. So from now on, you don't get access to me at all. I'm done."