38. Chapter 38

" I s this how it's going to end?" Coach's disappointed voice asks from where he stands inside the locker room. With a bowed head and his hands resting on his hips, he doesn't yell. He simply asks us a question.

The room stays silent. No one risks moving from where we sit in the unfamiliar locker room. Slowly, he tilts his head as his eyes scan the room. Coach Campbell takes the opportunity to look at everyone. The disappointment is heavy in his eyes as guilt gnaws away at me. Running my hands down my face, I cringe as I hit the bruise on my jaw.

Who knew Grant could pack such a punch? The black and purple addition to my face has drawn all kinds of curious glances. When Coach asked me what happened, I had to tell another lie. Lie, lie, lie, it seems to be the only thing I know how to do.

"Because if it is, go ahead and leave your stuff in the locker room and board the bus. There are men in this room who would kill for the opportunity to be in your shoes. Tonight, you're playing against each other instead of standing beside your teammates and fighting together."

His speech continues as I glance around the room and find long faces mirroring mine. It's my fault we are playing like shit. I caused the dynamic shift, and I fucking hate it. Grant and I have to find a way to squash our issues if we want to salvage this game.

"All eyes are on you tonight, gentlemen. I've taught you all I can. I've prepared you for the battle, but it's up to you to win the war. The decision is yours. Will you go out there and let them walk all over us? Or will you fight like the Eagles I know you are?" A slow clap begins as Coach gives us one last parting motivation.

Harris joins Coach where he stands as the rest of us huddle around. "One more half! Thirty minutes to put it all on the line! Eagles on three! One. Two. Three!"

"EAGLES!" The roar echoes off the walls, vibrating the air around us. Gripping my helmet in my hand, I turn and am met with Harris standing in my face. He reaches a hand out to stop Grant from moving past us.

"You two work out your shit, or don't bother coming back out. I'm done with your bullshit affecting my team."

Grant's shoulders stiffen as he stares at Harris's hand pressing into his chest. The tension is palpable as Harris leaves the two of us, and everyone else funnels through the locker room. With one last glance, Coach Campbell leaves the locker room with a raised eyebrow and a shake of his head.

"Look, man," I start while Grant flinches at my voice. "I love her."

His molars grind together, and I'm surprised one doesn't crack because of how tense he's squeezing his jaw shut. As much as I love Bret, it's time I put it all on the line. I should have fought harder from the beginning to give him a heads-up.

He deserved that as one of my closest friends and a person I look up to. I should have respected him more. As awkward as it is to have a conversation about my relationship with my difficulty with words, it's the only way we can try to move on. It's time for a discussion with Grant—a brother to a brother.

"You're her brother, and you want what's best for her. I get it. I have a little sister, too. I know she was supposed to be off-limits, but she's never been a game to me. She's been through hell, and I'm not here to cause her any more pain. In fact, if I could take it all away for her, I would. She's it for me. Me, her, us, that's all I want."

I watch as he stares through me from where he stands opposite me. When I think the conversation will only be one-sided, he speaks up. "It's been four days, and I can't figure out why I'm so mad at you."

His blatant honesty takes me aback—shocked by his admission and his unexplained anger.

"Watching over Bret has always been my job. Growing up, my dad taught me the importance of being a big brother and how it was my duty to protect my little sister. From a young age, we've always been close. We played together, we fought together, we enjoyed each other. She was my first friend, my best friend.

"The more we traveled, the more our bond grew. She was the one constant I could count on in a life full of uncertainty. She was always there for me, just like I was there for her. As she started getting older, the protectiveness only intensified, especially when we got to high school, and I was surrounded by horny classmates who only wanted to fuck their way through school. And when I started hearing my sister's name come out of those douchebags' mouths, the more I wanted to guard her from the fuckboys who would only use her, lose her, and destroy her. Bret's always had a tough exterior, but her heart is too good to be hardened. She loves hard and is incredibly sensitive."

He pauses, taking a few deep breaths, and runs his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. "You're exactly the type of guy who deserves my sister's love. You're loyal, care deeply, and protect the people you love by always putting their needs before yours. I've watched it on the field, with your family, and how you interact with strangers."

An onslaught of emotions comes over me as I feel a lump growing in my chest. With a fist, I rub circles over the spot near my heart.

"For the past three years, you have been a part of my life, a little brother I never had. I know I'm a grumpy fuck, but deep down, I'm just as sensitive as Bret." He pauses, pointing a finger at me. "And if you tell anyone that, I'll punch you again."

I huff out a laugh as he continues. "I think it hurt that you didn't respect me enough to come have this conversation man to man, friend to friend, brother to brother. It made me question if you were the good person I've always held you to be, and then I questioned if you were good enough for my sister."

"Fuck, Grant. I wanted to, but Bret was afraid. She begged me not to, and I don't keep secrets and lie to my family. But I promise you, I'll never hurt her. Hell, it has almost killed me this week seeing her so torn up over everything. Not to mention the fucker who's been terrorizing her life. You have no idea how badly I've wanted to track him down and end him."

A sarcastic chortle leaves his lips. "Yeah, I have no idea how badly you want to end him. Of course I do. She's the person I promised to protect, and I feel like I failed her. When she told me everything she's been through in the past year, the guilt I have for not pressing the issue last year is eating me alive."

I nod as I reach my hand out and wait for him to take it. "Are we good?"

"We're good, Riggsby." He grips my hand before pulling me in for a hug. As he claps my back, he whispers, "But if you hurt her, I'll end you. "

The two of us run out of the locker room, through the tiled hallway and tunnel, as we make it out on the field with twelve seconds remaining before the start of the second half. Harris finds us first, his face stoic as he takes in the two of us.

"You two dickheads finally work your shit out?"

Grant nudges my shoulder as he places his helmet on his head. "Yeah, we're good."

It's like whiplash watching Grant's moods. Long gone is the sensitive, vulnerable man from the locker room. Grumpy Grant is firmly in place.

"Thank fuck. Let's go win back this game."

And win back the conference championship game is what we do.

"Woo-hoo!" Harris screams as he jumps on my shoulders. "We're back, baby!"

The spark that feeds the electricity between the team was ignited. The passion and excitement are back, and it feels damn good. For the last twenty-nine minutes and thirty-six seconds, we've worked our asses off as we fought tooth and nail to take control of the game.

With the touchdown throw Harris just threw me, we've taken a thirty-one to twenty-seven lead. With the momentum shift on offense, our defense has mirrored our enthusiasm. Now, all our defense has to do is keep the Jaguars from scoring in the last twenty-four seconds.

As the clock hits zero, multicolored confetti rains down from the ceiling as our marching band starts playing the fight song. After a rocky start, we persevered and came out on top. As wonderful as the high is from winning the game, a weight has been lifted after the conversation with Grant. We celebrate our win on the field for the next thirty minutes as the conference commissioner presents our team with the championship trophy .

Freshly showered, water droplets drip from my hair as I climb the steps to the charter bus waiting outside the stadium to take us to our hotel. Sliding out my phone, I'm met with several notifications.

Mom: Congratulations, sweetie! I'm so proud of you! Love you.

Saylor: Ahhh!! MVP and Champions?! Way to go, big brother!

Jett: Glad you pulled your heads out of your asses! Proud of you, little brother!

Scrolling through the messages, I search for "Rebel." My eyebrows pinch together when I don't find a new message from her. Our last messages are from when she wished me good luck, and I confirmed she was safe inside our locked apartment.

Fear coils as the terrifying notion that something could have happened to her. Ignoring the congratulations text from Cody, I fire off a text.

Me: Have you heard from Bret lately? She hasn't messaged me since before the game.

Cody Jacobs: Yes, she messaged me around halftime, saying she was calling it an early night and that all of the doors were locked.

Cody Jacobs: She's safe, bro.

My shoulders slump in relief as I pocket my phone. Only a few more hours until I'll be home with my girl, and we can start living the life we've been dreaming about…out in the open.

*** *

After our three-hour drive from Arlington, the guys and I arrived at the apartment around eleven thirty the following day. Most of the guys went out to celebrate last night, while I barely made it to my hotel room before crashing. Between the adrenaline rush and the anxiety from this week's events, I was mentally and physically exhausted.

"I think I'm going to sleep for a week," JP grumbles from behind me as we climb the three stories of stairs.

"Dude, finals week." Harris digs in his pockets for his keys.

"Man, forget finals." I wish I could forget finals. Instead, I'll be busy preparing for three back-to-back full days of exams today and tomorrow. But not before I take a nice long nap with my Rebel.

Harris has the door unlocked by the time JP and I drag our asses up the wooden stairs. Silence greets us, and I huff out a laugh. Rebel must be just as exhausted as we all are. Hell, I can't say I blame her. She's been through the wringer this week, and there's nothing more exhausting than being stuck inside your head.

Moving inside my bedroom, I placed my suitcase against the wall next to my bed and put my phone on the charger I forgot to bring with us.

"Riggsby." JP's panicked voice has me turning on my heels. "You're going to want to see this…"

His voice trails off as I stride down the hallway to where he waits next to the dining table. The corners of his eyes are softened and tilted down as he looks at me. I don't like the way he is watching me. His lips press together in a line as he exhales slowly. Pity is never a good expression to see on anyone's face. A piece of paper is held between his fingers.

With an outstretched hand, I take the sheet of notebook paper from his hands. Taking my time, I read the letter word for word .

My stomach plummets as I drop the letter. It floats to the ground while I take off running to Bret's door. Her white door is standing open, which is my first clue. Moving around her room, I look for Spalding—her basketball—if he's gone, she's gone because there's no way she'd leave him behind. Bending down, I search below her bed before flinging open her closet doors. Gaps with empty hangers capture my attention before I trail my eyes over her haphazard floor.

All the color drains from my face as my knees buckle. I don't fight the pull as I drop to the ground. A hand grips my shoulder, but I barely feel it. My heart has been ripped from my chest along with my soul.

She's gone.