Page 16 of Heart of a Fighter

My gut tenses. This is my fault, not Zach’s. My temper got away with me, and I pushed him too far out of frustration. Of course, he’s protective of Lauren. I can’t blame him. I’d be the same with my own sister.

“And you, Granger.” Coach turns to me, his eyes narrowing with irritation. “You’ve got the talent and the heart for this game, but this hotheadedness has to stop. You’re better than this.” Coach’s eyes dart between the two of us. “Both of you need to get your acts together. We’ve got a game coming up against one of our stealthiest opponents. The last thing we need is you two sitting in the penalty box for fighting each other.”

Coach looks around the room, his eyes landing on every team member. “This isn’t just about Zach and Granger. This is about all of you. If one of us falls, we all fall. We win together, and we lose together. Start acting like the team I know you are. No more excuses. No more distractions.”

He takes a deep breath, his gaze still stern. “You two, shake hands and move on. I don’t care if you’re faking it right now, but we can’t afford this division.”

Zach shakes his head before getting up from the bench. I meet him halfway, doing my part to make amends. Zach grips my hand firmly, and our eyes lock in a silent battle of wills. Unresolved tension continues to simmer beneath the surface.

“I meant what I said,” Zach seethes, his voice barely audible, but his point is heard loud and clear.

Before I can respond, my father enters the locker room, his presence commanding and disapproving. He eyes Lauren dismissively, then stares pointedly at Dr. Evans. There’s no mistaking the silent directive––he wants Lauren out of here.

“Granger, a word.” He turns on his heel, leaving the room as abruptly as he came.

My gut tightens, and dread and defiance meet at the corner of disquiet and resentment. He’s reminded me of how I’ve screwed up my entire life. Why should now be any different?

“I warned you before. If you weren’t my son, you’d be kicked off the team by now.” His nostrils flare. “You’ve flaunted the rules long enough. Now, this girl is stirring up more problems.”

“Dad, it wasn’t–” I start to protest, but he cuts me off with a dismissive hand.

“No excuses, Granger. The girl’s out of here.” He stares at me with steely eyes. “This is your final warning.”

I panic. This is exactly what Lauren was afraid would happen, and I led her into the fire.

“This is on me, not her. I swear I’ll do whatever you want.” My blood runs cold, and my stomach upends. “Just promise she stays.”

He eyes me for a moment, considering my words. “Agreed,” he finally says. “But this is it. There won’t be a next time.”

I nod, feeling the crushing blow of the deal I’ve made. Ensuring Lauren’s future comes at a cost–letting go of the one real thing in my life. An overwhelming sense of loss causes an ache in my chest. I’ve got to keep my shit together, for both our sakes.

CHAPTER 8

WORDS OF WISDOM

***

Lauren

Madison and I work alongside one another in my mother’s kitchen, prepping for tonight’s family dinner, a weekly tradition for as long as I can remember. This kitchen has always been my sanctuary, where worries seem to melt away amidst the chaos. But tonight, it doesn’t quiet the turmoil swirling in my head.

“Behind you,” I say, squeezing past Madison as she stirs the fragrant sauce simmering on the stove.

She glances over her shoulder and shifts her stance, giving me room. We’ve both been quieter than our usual culinary gabfest. The house and this kitchen have been much more lively since Zach and Madison started dating. It’s nice having her in our lives. But seeing Zach and her together has also made me realize how much I’ve missed having someone in my life. Today’s fiasco complicates things even more.

“Zach had a bloody lip and a black eye at the presser this afternoon,” she says, eyeing me with concern. “He wouldn’t talk about it, only grumbled about practice. What happened out there today?”

“Am I talking to sports reporter Madison or confidant Madison?” I sigh and lean against the countertop.

“This is strictly girl talk,” she assures me, though I know Madison would never leak personal information without first getting the go-ahead.

“There was a fight. I didn’t actually see it because I was getting a stern talking to from Dr. Evans at the time.” I grab a wadded-up towel from the counter and begin folding it––more for something to do with my hands than anything else.

“About?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“What do you think?” I toss the towel back onto the counter. “Things between Granger and I have, let’s say, ventured beyond friendship and professionalism.”

“And how’s that going?”

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