Chapter 37

: Brandon

M y hand fucking hurts . So worth it.

I’m covered in sweat and dirt and blood, sitting here across from Bjorn Janssen and Bob Miller, the contents of my locker already packed in a bag at my feet. My soccer career ends today.

My agent is on speakerphone because he doesn’t exert himself by doing things like coming to my games.

I’m not embarrassed about what I did. I am, however, mortified that Coach and Mr. Miller have to listen to the tirade coming from my dad’s mouth.

“What the fuck were you thinking? You’re a useless moron. I’m surprised you have enough brain cells to tie your own shoes. You—”

Mr. Miller reaches forward and pushes a button, ending the call. “I think this will be much more productive without his ‘help.’” He holds up two fingers to quote that last word. I nod, saying nothing else.

The expression on Coach’s face has shifted from disappointment to pity. I don’t need his pity. Just cut me from the team and let me move on with my life.

It’s time to rip the Band-Aid off. “What do you need me to sign? I’m sure I violated my code of conduct. I certainly violated the terms of my probation. I accept my termination. I’m not going to fight it.”

Coach gives me a wan smile. “Did Brandon Nix just say he wasn’t going to fight it?”

I return his expression. “I fight when things are worth fighting for. This isn’t.”

“Your career isn’t worth fighting for? After playing a game like that? I wish you could see your growth over the past month, both on and off the field.” Coach holds up his hands and offers one last statement. “Brandon, you’re incredibly talented.”

I look down at my hands. “I can be talented but that doesn’t mean I didn’t break the rules.”

Coach looks at Mr. Miller, and for the first time, I sense a bit of desperation coming from him. “Is there anything we can do?”

Mr. Miller raises a hand to his chin, his gaze off in the distance, as he tries to solve a problem to which there is no solution.

I stand up, grabbing my duffle. “Look, I really do appreciate all you’ve done for me. Coach, I don’t say this lightly when I say you’ve been more of a father to me than my own.”

Bob Miller lets out a harsh laugh. “That’s not saying much.”

I keep talking. “You could continue my probation. You could suspend me for the rest of the season. You could fine me. But know this, at the end of the day, given the same circumstance, I would 100 percent do what I did today every single time. There is nothing you can do on your end to change that.”

I turn and head for the door. As I’m about to cross the threshold, I hear Mr. Miller say, “Brandon?”

I look back at him.

“You need a new agent.”

I nod and walk out of the Boston Buzzards facilities for the last time.

––––––––

O N THE DRIVE HOME, my confidence begins to wane. Not for what I said or did, because I stand by my statements. But for what a future without soccer means for me. I don’t have a great grasp on what my finances are like. Everything goes through my dad.

He’s not going to be pleased with me.

I’d say that it’s okay; that I’m used to no one liking me. However, right now, I feel the furthest from okay that you can get. It feels like I’ve been torn open and am lying on the ground in a bloody heap.

I feel utterly alone.

Until I pull in my driveway and see the faded black Escape sitting there.

What’s she doing here?

This is the last place she should be.

I slide my Porsche into the garage, anxiously putting it in park and exiting the vehicle. I grab my duffle out of the trunk, more from muscle memory than because I’ll ever need it again. Andi’s sitting on the bench next to my front door. “Why are you here?” I ask.

“Hello to you too,” she says, standing up

I stop in front of her, dropping my bag on the ground. I don’t know what to say. We stand there, staring at each other. Her hair is still pulled back like it was at the game, but it looks as if she’s showered. Flyaways spring out around her face since she doesn’t have the headband on to tame them any longer. She’s wearing her warm-up shorts and jacket. She obviously came right from the stadium.

“You called me Andrea,” she says finally.

“It’s your name, isn’t it?”

I see her eyes move up and down as they take in my appearance. “I still have to shower.”

“I can smell that,” Andi says matter-of-factly.

My mouth breaks into a wide grin. “Wanna help me?”

She tilts her head, matching my smile. “I don’t suppose things can get worse than they currently are unless you’re terrible in bed.”

That makes me laugh. “I’ve never had any complaints before.”

“You’ve probably never stuck around long enough to hear the complaints,” she chides.

I take a step closer, pushing a loose hair off her face. “You’ll have to let me know in the morning, Andrea.”

That’s all it takes. Her mouth is on mine, eager and hot. She tastes like heaven. Her arms encircle my neck. I slide my hand around her waist and then lower. I pull back slightly. “Is this okay?”

“You’re the only one who has permission to touch my ass.” She kisses me again.

I smile into her mouth. “And don’t forget I’ll pommel anyone who doesn’t respect that.”

Andi laughs, resting her forehead on my shoulder as she does. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“I can’t believe he grabbed you.”

She shrugs. “I wish I could say it was the first time. It probably won’t even be the last. But if I want to run with the big dogs, I’ve got to be prepared to fetch the big stick.”

I pull back. “Is that how the saying goes? I’ve never heard that one before.”

Andi grabs my face with her hands and brings it close to hers. “I just made that up. But can we be done talking? I need to get you in the shower.”

I can be done talking.