Page 51 of For Emery

I looked to Flip now conveniently cupping his nose with his hand. The team doctors rushed over to him. Of course they did. They needed to check that their fragile golden boy was okay.

I trudged off the field with the skin around my eye swelling up and beginning to throb. I slumped down on the bench. Someone shoved an ice pack at me. I held it to the side of my face for all of two seconds then dropped it to my side. I was no wuss.

“I did not say it was okay to hurt him,” Coach hissed through clenched teeth as he stood in front of me.

“Whatever,” I mumbled like a sullen child, averting his gaze.

“Whatever? Is that what you’re gonna say when I bench your ass?”

I glared up at him. “You wouldn’t.”

“Wanna call my bluff?”

I sat there stewing. I did not start that out there. But fucking Flip did a damn good job of making it look that way. Was he that intimidated by me? Or was his beef with me really over Emery?

“Put ice on that before you can’t see out of it,” Coach ordered, before storming away from me.

Abbott took a seat next to me. “Dude. You gotta relax.”

“Dude,” I said mimicking him. “You gotta back the fuck off me.”

“All I’m saying is if we all fought you every time you said something to piss us off, we never would’ve been a cohesive unit over the past three years. Guys say shit. They say shit to piss each other off. Then they move on.”

“I hate him.”

“Maybe so. But we’re relying on him to take us to the big game like Caden did. If you keep messing with him, you’re gonna ruin it for all of us. And dude, I need us to win.” Abbott stood up, purposely letting his words sit with me as he walked onto the field.

As shitty as it was to admit, these guys were at Alabama for a reason. This was their stepping stone to the pros. I couldn’t let my hatred for Flip ruin the way I played. Because if I screwed up, I screwed it up for everyone. Including myself.

At three-thirty the whistle blew and the game began. I shut out all the voices in my head. I heard the cheers of Tennessee and let the cheers propel me to the next level. I played the game of my life. My hatred for Flip turned me into a beast out there, pouncing on anyone who moved in my way. By halftime, I’d silenced the Tennessee fans. Okay, so maybe I wasn’t the only one doing a good job. But without me, Flip—and his taped-up nose—would’ve been useless. He sucked under pressure and they were gunning for him. Without me there, he would’ve been sacked ten times over. Though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want him to eat grass at least once.

We ended up winning by fourteen. Music blared in our locker room after the game. The guys’ elation was evident in the laughter and jeering filling the room. Still pissed about the fight with Flip, I snuck away from the celebration, showering and dressing in my own space.

I slid into my seat on the bus a short while later, lifting the arm rest and spreading out so I didn’t have to share my seat with anyone else. I slipped on my headphones and pulled out my phone to find music to sleep to. Before I could find anything, a text lit up my screen.

You were amazing out there.

I grinned like a fool as my fingers typed out a response. That’s not the only place I’m amazing.

The three dots appeared for a second. Ewwwww.

I laughed and a few of the guys seated around me glanced over as I typed my response. Just playing.

I know. Have a safe trip home.

I stared down at the text imagining Emery’s excitement while watching the game on television. When we were younger, she’d jump out of her seat and scream for me, not caring who saw her. I always loved that about her.

I switched my music on and let the sounds drown out the rest of the world. I closed my eyes and reclined my chair as far back as it would go. I teetered on the verge of sleep as the bus lurched, pulling away from the stadium. Someone walking down the aisle slammed into my elbow on the armrest. My eyelids flew open and my head came up. Flip stood there, his eye bruised and nose swollen.

I motioned to my own nose. “You got a little something on your face.”

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe rethink your words. Last time you brought up fucking you got yourself a nice souvenir.”

“Grady!” Coach was turned around in his front seat and partially standing. “Enough! Caruso, find a seat.”

Flip moved down the aisle and I didn’t see him again for the almost five-hour drive back to campus. Just the way I wanted it.

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