Page 14 of The Penalty

Hard to believe we were close as kids. Well, not super close. We had a healthy, competitive relationship since we’d both started playing football so young. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment our relationship turned hostile.

That’s a fucking lie.

It was more like a muddled bunch of little moments that grew and festered, toying with my general feelings of inadequacy. The scales tipped shortly before I joined Royal City’s development league and Adam befriended Jordan.

Screw this. I can’t keep dredging up the past. It’s done and gone. Aside from making sure Jordan gets what he deserves, the rest of it doesn’t matter.

You can’t bury your life away forever.

The words I spoke to Victoria not too long ago echoed through me. I’d said them to help her move past the guilt she carried over Charlotte’s death. She’d been so open and vulnerable with me that day in the storage unit.

Trusting me with a part of herself that she’d kept locked away for years must have been difficult for her.

I’d tried to be just as vulnerable with her more than once. But I ended up shutting down each time. Didn’t matter if we were talking or having sex, I couldn’t let myself go with her.

And I wanted that more than anything.

To fully let myself go with the one woman who might understand how to handle me.

The following week proved to be less aggravating. My only obstacle was meeting Adam for dinner.

I arrived first at the small restaurant in downtown London. Since the weather was somewhat agreeable, I chose a table outside to minimize any chance of causing a scene if he pissed me off.

Dr. Frances and I spoke at length about finding ways to curb my anger. Aside from the punching bag, he suggested putting myself in situations where losing control would be detrimental to my public image.

It’ll force you to stay present and be aware of how you react, he’d told me.

Why am I listening to this guy again?

Of course, sitting out here alone left me exposed to attention, which never bothered me in the slightest.

Several people recognized me and waved as they walked by. One guy gave me a dirty look. Must be a West London United supporter. I smiled at him anyway.

A couple of kids ran over asking for an autograph. They talked nonstop about their youth clubs until their parents managed to corral them. Both apologized profusely for interrupting my dinner.

I told them I really didn’t mind at all.

A few minutes later, two young women stopped to ask for a photo. I obliged, taking some time to chat with them.

“We’re really hoping to come watch you play in person someday,” the brunette said. “It’s so hard to get tickets.”

“That’s because you’re so good,” her friend fawned, looking at me with wide eyes. “You and your club, I mean. Yeah. Not…not just you.” She blushed.

I smiled, aware that some fans get tongue-tied. My usual default was to make a bad joke at Gallagher’s expense. “It’s a good thing Cade isn’t here. You know how he gets when he thinks he’s not the favorite.”

They both giggled.

The star striker did have a reputation for being pouty when the spotlight moved off him.

“We won’t tell him.”

The young women thanked me and went on their way.

“Some things never change. Center of attention as always, Maddox.” Jordan stood next to the table with an arrogant grin blooming on his lips.

Metal scraped on concrete when I pushed to my feet. Guess we’re about to test Frances’ homework.

The more this asshole smiled at me, the more I wanted to shove his face into the ground.

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