Trevor

Trevor

The next day I woke up hungover as fuck. Like I had straight up partied all night long. Erica’s words resonated with me, and I decided that I’m done drinking at least until the season is over. I don’t need Rosie or Daphne watching me like that. I don’t need anyone watching me like that. The tabloids would have a field day. I can see the headlines now.

Star quarterback fucked up over teammate’s wife. Pathetically in love, forever alone.

Shit, that’s not bad. Maybe I should sell my own story, make a fortune, and just become a recluse. I’m practically one already.

Today I have practice, and I’m hoping to just fly under the radar since, if I’m being honest, I’m embarrassed about my words and actions at the party. Not just to my friends, maybe former friends at this point, but also the few other teammates who were also there. I need to apologize to, well, almost everyone. But for today, I just want to come in, do my job and go home.

Of course, today has to be one of the only days of the week that Sage is working, right? Each week she has given me nonstop shit, and I’m getting sick of it. She doesn’t always start it, I’ll admit. Something about that woman just puts me on edge. The smooth silkiness of her voice that I found so attractive that first night is nothing but nails on a chalkboard now.

She’s sitting on the floor like a fucking child because at twenty years old compared to me, she basically is one. Her camera is aimed up at us as we walk down the hallway, and I hear her shouting out a question to Roman in front of me.

“What’s your favorite Taylor Swift song?” she asks.

“Ohhh shit. You’re out here exposing me, girl. Uhh, ‘Shake It Off.’ Because the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hateeee,” he sings as he dances down the hallways past her like an idiot.

I roll my eyes at him as I continue walking.

“What’s your favorite Taylor Swift song?” she asks me.

I ignore her, though, continuing my pace without so much as a glance.

“Aw, what’s the matter? You too insecure about your masculinity to admit that you can get down with some T-Swift?” she goads.

Clenching my jaw, I spin around, coming back to face her as I lower myself down just in front of the camera. Though I’m glaring at the lens, I hope she can feel the hate I’m shooting straight at her.

“‘Bad Blood,’” I snap before standing back up.

As if I don’t affect her at all, she keeps filming as more guys come in while she speaks.

“Weird. I definitely would have pegged you for ‘Anti-Hero.’ It’s practically your theme song.”

I feel my anger boiling over, and I storm off before I can let her get a full rise out of me as she starts asking the guys behind me the same question. I’m not going to let that little brat get to me. She’s just an annoying little girl with a big mouth. She’s nothing, no one. But the way I practically punch a hole into the wall beside my locker tells me she may be no one, but she sure as fuck knows how to push all of my buttons.

Practice goes by smoothly. I’m lucky that things clicked into place the way they did. Usually joining a new team comes with growing pains, especially as a quarterback. I need to learn all the offense players to understand what my options are for every play, and sometimes, that’s a fucking challenge. But I think from our days at Brighton, things with Sebastian and Slater at least are seamless, even if they aren’t my biggest fans. I sure as fuck know Declan isn’t too happy with me considering he sacked the fucking shit out of me three times today, hard.

When we are all in the locker room, I’m finishing getting dressed when Slater walks by me. Declan is pulling on a fresh T-shirt beside him while Sebastian is walking over to his locker with a towel around his waist.

“Hey,” I say to all of them, figuring I need to just swallow my pride and get this over with. “I’m sorry for the way I acted this weekend. I was drunk, and it’s not an excuse, but I wasn’t thinking. I fucked up, and I’ll apologize to the girls too.”

They are silent for several moments, but eventually, Slater is the first to speak. He slaps my back as he shrugs.

“We know, man. You good?” he asks, watching me closely.

“I will be as long as we’re good,” I say as my eyes come to Declan.

He keeps his hard stare on me for only a few more seconds before he nods and slides his palm across my own before fist bumping me.

“We’re good. But you talk about my wife like that again, and I’ll knock your two front teeth out,” he promises simply.

I let out a forced laugh because I have no doubt in my mind that if I ever say anything demeaning or degrading about Vi again, it won’t just be my two front teeth. I’ll probably be eating through a straw for the rest of my life.

When my eyes come to Sebastian, the lightness I was beginning to feel is immediately weighed down once again. I’m not stupid enough to think Sebastian and I could be as close as we were before everything went down. Some may be able to get over the past but not him. He’s a stubborn fucker, and I more than know that if it wasn’t for Erica, I would have been kicked out of his life a long time ago.

I feel stupid admitting it, but when she told me that my name gets brought up in their marriage a lot, it hurt. Mainly because one look at her face, and I knew it hurt her. My friendship with Erica is hurting her, hurting them. And even if the tiny, totally selfish prick side of me loves that Erica isn’t willing to let me go for anything, I know the reality is that if it did truly come down to things, she’d pick Sebastian, every time. It’s always been Sebastian. I was just the placeholder.

“I’ll be better,” I say, knowing an apology from me won’t do nearly as much for Sebastian as a promise will.

His narrowed glare softens only slightly to allow a disbelieving look to cover his features.

“I doubt it.”

I try not to show that his words cut deep, instead standing a little taller as I speak.

“What do I have to do to prove it then?”

Sebastian crosses his arms over his chest, standing up to his full 6’6” height as he looks down at me.

“You want my forgiveness? Want us to be good?”

I nod.

“Stay the fuck away from my wife then.”

I blink at the pure hatred that his tone holds.

“What?”

“You heard me, stay the fuck away from her. Stay away from Erica, stay away from my girls. Get the hell out of my life, and we will be good. We can be teammates, play our game, and then go our separate ways.”

“But,” I start. “Erica is my best friend. I can’t just walk away from her. And I love those girls more than anything.”

Sebastian lets out a scoff, shaking his head almost in disbelief.

“Fine, then we aren’t good. Don’t speak to me unless absolutely necessary. Don’t come near me unless it’s life or death, and if you so much as put one finger on my wife again, I’ll fucking break it off.”

With that, Sebastian gets changed angrily, throwing his wet towel onto the ground before slipping into his shoes and storming off. I watch him go before turning back to see Declan and Slater giving me helpless shrugs, like they think I’ve made my bed, and now I have to lay in it.

Without another word, I grab my shit and make my way out of the locker room.

It’s decided, coming to Seattle was the worst decision I’ve ever made. Well, second worst.

As if the day couldn’t get any shittier, my phone begins ringing, and it’s a number that has my irritation ratcheting up in an instant.

“Hey, Dad,” I say into the phone as I continue walking down the hallway.

“Trevor, I need you back in Brighton this Friday,” he says, getting right to the point.

I roll my eyes at his brashness as I speak.

“I can’t. I have a job, remember?”

“Watch your tone, son. You have a sport that for some unbeknownst reason you get paid to play. This is actually important, though. We are having a board meeting about the merger with Kryon, Inc. Remember?”

Fuck no, I don’t. When my dad starts rattling on about business, that’s where my attention heads out. He’s been shoving the family business down my throat since I could practically walk, and I’ve never wanted to be involved. When I got hurt back in college, I was resigned to it. I thought I’d never get a chance to play professional ball. But here I am, and there is no way I’m missing practice, pissing off Coach, and putting my job on the line for a stuffy board meeting.

His shitty comments about how what I do isn’t really working, that I’m just screwing around, that I’ll never be successful if I keep up this pace, usually roll off my back, but he called me on the wrong day.

“Well, what can I say? You know how it is. Tardiness is personified laziness, right?” I snap, throwing back his old saying that he used to use on me anytime I was half a minute late anywhere in my life.

“Trevor, goddamn it,” he grumbles as he lowers his tone. “The other board members are concerned about your lack of interest in the company. They want you to sell your shares. You need to be here and show that you’re invested in the company that will one day be yours.”

“I don’t want the company to be mine. It’s your baby. Keep it, pass it on to whoever is sucking on your asshole this week. I don’t care. I have a job to do, and I’m not abandoning it for a board meeting about a merger I could give two shits about, for a company I want no part in,” I practically shout now that I’ve stepped outside.

The phone is silent for several seconds, the heat from the sun beating down on my neck before my dad’s voice comes through the phone.

“You’ll be joining us via Zoom. I’ll push it to an evening meeting to accommodate your ‘job,’” he sneers, heavy emphasis on the word job like I’m a child playing pretend. Like I don’t make millions a year and am a household name throughout the nation. “In return for my generous accommodations, you will be punctual, and you will at least pretend to give a damn. Football won’t always be there for you, but this will. You need to stop being a child and grow the fuck up,” he says before he hangs up.

My fingers wrap around my phone tightly, jaw clenched before rage fills every ounce of me. I wind my arm back and throw my phone against the wall, taking a small amount of pleasure as I watch it splinter apart into literal pieces.

“Now what did that phone ever do to you?” Sage draws out slowly, a vape pen sitting between her fingers as she raises it to her mouth and inhales.

“Mind your own fucking business,” I snap.

“God, are you always this much of a prick? Or am I just special?”

“Oh you’re fucking special alright. I’ve never met a brat more fucking annoying and infuriating than you in my life.”

She pushes off the wall she was resting against, flying in front of me and bumping her chest against mine. If she wasn’t well over half a foot shorter than me and as heavy as a sack of flour, I’d say the girl was actually a little intimidating.

“Call me a brat again and see what happens, Michaels.”

I scoff at her, rolling my eyes when she grabs a fist full of my shirt, yanking me down a few inches before I right myself.

“Just because your daddy doesn’t love you, your friends hate you, and you’re desperately in love with a woman that doesn’t love you back, doesn’t mean you get to treat everyone around you like dirt. Get the fuck over yourself.”

With that, she turns, practically stomping her way over to a newer looking Camry. It fires up almost instantly and is practically peeling out of the parking lot and onto the street. For some reason, my temper has ebbed just a bit, and I’m able to blow out a deep breath before I look down at the broken fragments of my phone. Funny, it almost looks like the broken fragments of my life.