16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Cole

"That was a hard loss, boys," Coach says, "but we can learn from tonight's performance and do better in Portland in two weeks. We're going to spend this week focusing on…"

I tune him out. I don't think anyone is actually listening to him as he prattles on. We just want to hit the showers and check on Moxie. He refused to leave the pitch until the game was over, but as soon as it was—Warriors up by seven—Mel took him to the clinic. I don't know how long it'll be before we hear what the damage is, but Carissa seemed pretty sure it was a torn ACL.

If that's true, Moxie will be out the rest of the season, which means…

"And we need a new captain with Auxier injured," Coach says, echoing my fears.

The room grows silent as the guys finally turn their attention to the coach.

"He can still be captain even if he's injured," Tink says, not bothering to hide his outrage.

Coach scoffs. "We need a captain on the pitch."

"Moxie will be back to playing in a few weeks," Scratch argues.

"Not from what I hear," Coach says.

I swallow when his eyes meet mine. I'm in my usual corner, ignored by the team for now. But that won't last long. Don't do it , I silently beg, shaking my head at him.

But Coach smiles and points at me as he says, "Evanson will take Auxier's spot as captain for the rest of the season."

I've never heard the locker room this quiet. I swear the guys can hear my pounding heart and churning gut as their heads slowly swivel in my direction. "That's a bad idea," I say, flinching at the sound of my own voice in the eerie silence.

Coach narrows his eyes. "Are you questioning me, son?"

Why did he have to call me that in front of everyone? Rising stiffly to my feet, I shake my head. "Perlman is right. Auxier can still captain from the sidelines, and it's not like we're an international team, so it doesn't matter if—" I cut myself off when a buzz starts filtering through the room, accompanied by glares and glowers.

Got it. Don't minimize the value of our team. But I was trying to defend Moxie and keep myself out of this mess, so I thought they would be on my side.

"What about Henderson?" Sharkie says, pointing at Bean. "He could be captain."

Bean splutters in horror as Coach laughs. "Don't be ridiculous," Coach says.

"Or the Aussie," Tink says, pointing at Gary. "He's played pro for years! "

Coach snarls. "This isn't a debate! My decision is made. We need someone with a talent for leadership, and Evanson is the only one who can hack it."

Thirty pairs of eyes turn to me again, and I want to shrink into my locker and disappear. There were sixty guys on the Badgers' roster, and they never once intimidated me like this, so what's my problem? Stupid question. The Badgers actually liked me.

"Sir," I say weakly. "Can we talk about this?"

"We already talked about this," Coach argues. "You knew this was coming."

I curse as several players jump to their feet and start spouting off questions to both of us even though Coach starts inching his way to the door.

"What do you mean, he knew?"

"Did you purposefully get Moxie injured so you could take his place?"

"Were you planning to replace him before he got injured?"

"What makes you so special, Rihanna?"

"That's enough!" I shout, loud enough that the men nearest to me flinch. "Of course I didn't get him injured. He's our best player and my friend!" Coach slips out the door as I talk, which doesn't help my frustration. Coward. "And yes, I knew, but I hate the idea as much as you do. No, I'm not special, something you all have made very clear over the last two years." I run a hand through my sweat-soaked hair, desperate for a shower after that second half. It's a miracle we didn't lose by more because none of us were really in the game, too worried about Moxie.

"Look," I say, completely exhausted. "I don't deserve to be your captain. I don't want to be your captain. But there's going to be no changing his mind, and there will be hell to pay for all of us if we fight him on this."

If it were any other team in the league, it probably wouldn't be a big deal, but Coach is so rarely at practice, and his assistants are crap at keeping things organized. Someone has to lead this team.

"Mox will always be our captain," I continue, partially because I don't like the way the team is so quiet. I need to fill the space. "I'm not taking his or anyone's spot. But I'm going to do what Coach says. Got it?"

At least thirty seconds pass before someone speaks. "So," Bean says and folds his arms, commanding the attention of the others. "Did you buy your way to the top?"

Forget the shower. Grabbing my bag, I throw it over my shoulder and push my way to the door, cursing Coach as I go. This is never going to work. They'll hate me more than ever now, and without Moxie to be a buffer between me and them, their opinion of me is only going to get worse.

Moxie's injury had better be superficial, or I'll have an entire team out for my blood.

As I make my way down the corridor, I realize a light is on in Mel's space, and since I know she's out with Moxie, my steps slow. Is Carissa still here? After the game, she got a few players situated with ice bags and wraps, and then she disappeared. I figured she went home.

I shouldn't stop. I ordered a ride this afternoon to get here earlier than she did, and she would be well in her right to assume I'll book a ride home as well. My nerves are frazzled, so I can't guarantee I'll be as nice as she deserves. It would be better for both of us to get some distance for a bit.

My feet take me through the open training room door, though I stop just inside and take in the scene. Carissa's on her own, as I would expect, and sitting on the table with an arm around her shins and her chin on her knees. She looks extra small, balled up like that as she scrolls on her phone. She looks like she needs a friend.

"Hey." The word croaks out of me.

Her eyes jump toward me, but nothing about her position moves. How long has she been sitting like that? "Hi."

"Any word on Moxie? "

She shakes her head. "Mel said he won't be able to get an MRI until Monday, so she's going to stay with him until then and make sure he's okay."

"What about her kid?"

"I guess her parents live nearby, and they always take Raiden whenever Mel has a game. They offered to keep him for the weekend."

I'm glad Mel has a support system. I'm extra glad Moxie has someone to look out for him. I can't pretend I know much about his life outside of rugby, but I do know none of his family live nearby. And even if he does consider me a friend, I doubt he'll want to see me. I'm sure someone on the team has already texted him and told him about Coach's decision.

While I stand in silence, Carissa seems to see me for the first time, lifting her head as her eyes trail over me. I wonder what she sees. "Do you always forgo a shower after playing?" she asks.

I chuckle, though I'm hardly amused by my current situation. "Showers are overrated."

"Are they, though?"

It's a good thing I'm clear on the other side of the room from her so she doesn't have to be assaulted by my smell. That last half was brutal, both mentally and physically. "With Moxie out, Coach told the team I'm taking over as captain," I admit. "They didn't take it well."

"Oh." Unfolding herself, Carissa tucks her phone into the pocket of the leggings she's wearing and comes closer. Her nose wrinkles, probably when she gets a whiff of me. "What are you going to do?"

"No idea."

"Showering is a good first step."

This time my laugh feels more real, and I tug on one of her curls. Then I frown because that was a weird move and not something friends do. With her standing so close, I get sudden flashbacks to the moment before the second half when she slid into my arms. I don't know why she did it, but I do know it took everything in me to let go after she did. It's been a long time since someone hugged me like that outside of Bonnie and Freya, and their sisterly hugs don't exactly get my heart pounding.

With Carissa, I don't even have to touch her for my blood to heat beneath my skin. Every time I'm with her, it gets worse, and seeing her in my house last night, smiling and laughing and fitting in so easily with my family, I might have passed a point of no return.

My arms itch to wrap around her again, so I grab the strap of my bag with both hands and take a subtle step back. I can't tear my eyes from hers, however. Those gold-infused eyes have me transfixed. And the longer I look, the more I realize there's something else behind her subdued mood. "You okay?"

She bites her lip. "Um. There's an article about us."

Swearing, I dig into my bag for my phone. I tend to ignore it on game days to keep my head in the zone, but the several texts from my friends and a missed call from Ethan jumpstart my heart into an erratic rhythm as I pull up the Hot Scoop article Derek sent me in a text. I read it quickly, expecting the worst, but all in all it's not as bad as I expected.

Still, this is Carissa's first real foray into the tabloids. "How are you feeling about it?" I ask.

She shrugs, keeping her eyes on my chest rather than my face. "It's hard to say. I thought for sure they would say something about Peter—my ex—but…" Another shrug.

"Unfortunately, this could only be the start. You and I should probably keep our distance from each other so we don't give them reasons to look at you more closely." I'm not sure I've ever wanted anything less, which is only more reason to stay away from her. Not easily done. At some point in the last couple of minutes I moved close to her again without meaning to.

"But I'm your ride," Carissa argues, looking up. "How are you going to get to practice? "

I chuckle. She's something else, worrying about me when it's her being dragged into the media. Outside of my friends, I've never met anyone like her. "The same way I did before you showed up, Paxton. Believe it or not, I can generally take care of myself."

"Can you?" Her eyes go wide. "I didn't mean that how it sounded! I just mean you seem like you do better when you're around people, and your friends would probably agree."

I can't decide if I like how much she notices about me or if it scares the crap out of me. Derek often says something about being known. He says being known can be a good thing, but when you're famous, not many people truly want to know you. They decide which parts of you they want and despise the rest.

But she's right. Isolating myself doesn't do me any good, something I also learned from Derek back when we first met. He's a firm believer that no one should be alone. I can't imagine how difficult it's been for him to stay away the last few days, especially after I ignored his call yesterday.

Though my fingers itch to send him a text and assure him that I'm fine, I can't bring myself to look away from Carissa. I swallow the words that rise in my throat— Would you take care of me? —and instead say something far more innocent. "I guess, if you're offering a ride, I'd be stupid to refuse."

Carissa lifts a saucy eyebrow that pulls me right back into her orbit and the sweet floral scent that envelops her. "You guess?"

The curl I touched earlier is still hanging on its own by her cheek, and I can't stop my hand from rising. I run the curl between my fingers, loving the way it bounces back into place. There's a playfulness to her hair that matches her open personality. "I would love a ride," I amend.

She takes a breath, lips parting, and I'm pretty sure she leans closer. "Good," she whispers. "Because I'm starting to really like our drives together. "

My phone buzzes in my hand. I jump back a full step, landing myself in the doorway, and shake my head as if the movement can knock some sense into me. Even if it weren't Derek calling me, I'd answer the call just to give myself a distraction before I get pulled back into Carissa's inviting eyes.

"Hey," I say, lifting the phone to my ear.

"Finally," Derek replies.

Resisting the urge to sigh, I lean my shoulder against the doorframe. "You do know I had a game tonight, right?"

"Yeah, and I also know it ended almost an hour ago."

Carissa makes her way to the back of the room, but her scent still lingers in the air around me. I watch her grab her bag and busy herself with organizing supplies like she's right at home here. She's been here less than a week, and it already feels like she's been a part of the Thunder since the beginning.

Or maybe I am simply getting used to having her around.

"Cole," Derek says.

I pull my gaze from Carissa so I can focus on my phone. "What?"

"You okay?"

"Fine."

"Lies."

I grit my teeth. My friends are good at calling out each other's moments of dishonesty, which is great until it happens to me, apparently. I don't like to lie, so it's not often anyone has to say anything. Taking a deep breath, I drop my voice even though Carissa already knows all my issues.

Most of my issues.

"Moxie got injured tonight," I say.

"I heard. Is he okay?"

I explain what Carissa thinks it is and that we won't know for sure until Monday. But Moxie's injury isn't all of what's bothering me, and Derek seems to know as much with the way he's being pushier than usual. So I close my eyes and say, "Coach told the guys he's making me team captain."

However I expected Derek to react to that announcement, it wasn't for him to burst into laughter. "Seriously?"

I growl. "Why is that funny?"

"Don't get me wrong. It sucks for Moxie, and hopefully he can get back in the game quickly. But dude. If ever there was a time for you to make friends with your teammates…"

I switch my phone to the other ear and glance behind me to make sure no one has left the locker room. "If ever there was a time for them to hate me even more," I counter. "They love Moxie."

"And Moxie likes you."

"I don't know why."

"Cole, I know you're in a funk right now, but I wouldn't be friends with you if you weren't a good guy and worth knowing. So maybe cut the self-deprecation and focus on what you can do about this situation."

I should have known better than to talk down on myself when Derek Riley is on the phone with me. Considering how perfectly he presents himself, advice like this should come across as insincere, but Derek has spent too long in the limelight to be anything but genuine when it comes to self-image. He knows how hard it is to be in the public eye and the media's judgment.

He's said it often enough that I can hear it in his voice: The only opinion a person should worry about is the one they have of themself. The one they can control.

"I don't know how to make this work," I say as my eyes lift to find Carissa. She has her purse now and is leaning against a cabinet, watching me. I ask my question as much to her as I do to Derek. "How do I get them to trust me? "

"I think this might be one you're going to have to figure out on your own," Derek says.

Carissa tilts her head, a thoughtful look in her eyes. I'm more inclined to listen to her right now, whatever she might have to say.

"But you should start with being open with them," Derek continues. "Something tells me you haven't let them know you, especially over the last few months."

"I've been with this team for nearly two years, Derek. If they don't know me by now…"

He chuckles. "Do they know why you don't drive?"

"No, but—"

"Do they have any idea why you left football in the first place?" That question has some bitterness on the edges.

I wince, gripping the phone tighter. "No. And they never will."

"Why not?" I hear what he's really asking. He's asking why I haven't told him why I left the NFL when he knows how much I loved football. "Cole, I know you have your secrets—we all do—but if you carry everything on your own, eventually it's going to become too heavy for you and you'll crumble under the pressure. You need to trust your team so they can trust you in return."

I genuinely don't know if he's talking about the Thunder or our group of friends, and that worries me. Since Sage dumped me, I've been pushing my friends away in my pitiful attempts to lick my wounds and heal, and I have known from the beginning that that's a bad idea. But keeping everyone at a distance is the only way I know to cope with fears. My friends will never let me get far, which is more than I deserve after the way I've been acting the last few months.

I can't keep my teammates at a distance. Not if I'm going to have a chance to keep the Thunder from falling apart without Moxie on the pitch. But Derek's right. If I want those guys to trust me, I can't keep up so many walls that they can't even see me.

Voices echo in the corridor behind me. Panic shoots through me, and I scurry deeper into the room, shutting the door behind me and flipping off the light.

"Let me call you back," I whisper into the phone and hang up before Derek can protest, throwing the room into complete darkness.

Turns out I'm a coward.