27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Cole

We're halfway through the game. Portland is up by ten. I'm completely exhausted. But it feels like the only way to fix anything right now is to win this game, and I'm staring down thirty men who all look like they've been knocked to the ground one too many times and are ready to give up.

Coach didn't bother coming into the locker room after the first half ended, which means the only thing between us and total failure is…me.

I really don't like that. After a morning spent on the phone with Ethan, Derek, and Freya, I'm no closer to finding a way to fix things for Carissa. She hasn't talked to anyone except Mel, who told me partway through the game that Carissa is barely holding it together. I want so badly to pull her into my arms and never let go, but that won't solve anything, and my team needs me too .

I hate this. I hate that the reason the whole country thinks she's a horrible human is because of me and my fame. I hate that people forget that there are real people on the other side of screens. People with tender hearts and vulnerable souls. I hate that whoever created Hollywood Hot Scoop doesn't care what they say as long as it gets them views.

Cursing loudly, I resist the urge to punch my fist into a wall as I make my way to the front of the locker room. We only have a few minutes left before we have to go back onto the pitch and pretend our hearts are in the game instead of with the woman who stole all our hearts the moment she arrived.

"This sucks," I say to the team. Half of them don't even look at me. "And it's been a long time since I had to give any sort of pep talk, so you're not going to get any motivational speeches from me." I shake my head. "I wish Moxie were here. He would know what to say right now. He'd say something stupid to get you to laugh, and then he'd throw out some piece of wisdom that would somehow resonate with each and every one of you. And then we would go out there and change that score and come out victorious because Moxie knew how to captain a winning team. I don't."

My voice breaks on those last two words, and I don't care and my anger and frustration are in full force. They're the only thing I have right now. "You all deserve better than me, and you deserve a win because you've all put in the work."

"We don't care about the game," Wyatt says, lifting his head to glare at me. A few men murmur in agreement. "We care about Carissa and the fact that you're the reason she looks like she's about to fall apart."

Clenching my jaw, I search the faces of the rest of the guys, realizing they're all in agreement. "This is exactly why I kept my distance from her," I argue.

"Distance?" Noah says with a laugh. "You've been carpooling with her every day. "

"You went to her apartment," Wyatt says.

"I saw you making out by the vending machines last night," Freddie adds, turning a deep crimson when I shift my glare to him.

I grunt, trying not to get lost in memories of that kiss. It was so much better than I could have imagined, and I still don't know how I got myself to stop. Kissing Carissa unlocked something in me. Made me think, if only for a moment, I could have my own love story. Made me think I wasn't broken.

I shake my head. "Okay, so that all might be true, but—"

"How are you going to fix this, Cole?" Wyatt asks. "Because we've all come up blank, and it's killing us seeing her miserable."

As much as I wish I had an answer, I don't, and I run a hand down my face in frustration. "I don't know. And as much as it's killing you, it's killing me more. I lo…" I stop myself halfway through the word. That's not a thing I can admit out loud. Not right now. Not to them.

"Love her," Grayson grunts. "Got it. So what are you going to do?"

" I don't know ," I growl again, as panicked by the fact that I can't argue his claim as I am by my inability to help her. "There's enough truth in the story that I can't disprove anything."

"You're saying she extorted a politician?" Wyatt asks, raising an eyebrow.

I groan. "No. I'm saying she had no idea the guy was married, but she did date him. And she was his physical therapist. I can't explain the airport thing, but that picture was—"

"That one might have been my fault," Jeff says, ducking his head. "I said something about how they looked like they were having a rough morning, so she went over to talk to them." Several guys throw towels at him, and he looks properly ashamed of himself when he emerges from the onslaught. "How was I supposed to know there would be someone taking pictures of her? "

"Because she's Carissa," I grumble as the guys continue to shout angry remarks at Jeff. "It's safe to assume she is noticed pretty much everywhere she goes." As someone who is constantly watched, I know the feeling, though it's not Carissa's fault that she's beautiful and approachable. She brings light wherever she goes, and I can't figure out why Hot Scoop would be so determined to tear her down. A week ago they were completely indifferent to her and annoying at best when it came to me, but now it's like they decided to switch gears and push me higher up the social ladder and knock Carissa to the ground.

There has to be a way to show the world who she really is, but I can't focus on that because I still have forty minutes of game play to deal with. It's not like we can shout our love and appreciation for Carissa while we're in the middle of a ruck and she's on the sidelines. The only way we can interact with her is if we get injured.

"Wait," I say as an idea sparks to life in my head. No one's paying attention to me, so I stuff my fingers into my mouth and let out a shrill whistle that cuts through the grumbling. "Hey! I have an idea that probably won't work."

"Tell us," Wyatt says immediately.

I manage a smile as I nod at him. His support means more than he'll ever know. "Here's what we'll do…"