Page 112 of Brutal Game

“But no Aviva?” he asked, searching my eyes.

But no Aviva.

“You know, maybe that’s for the best,” Isaac said. “I never asked you what happened at the alumni dinner, but it didn’t look good. And she’s dug her hooks into you. Maybe it’s time for you to let go and move on. There’s easier pussy out there and?—”

My fist connected with his jaw before I’d even realized I’d taken a swing.

“What the fuck, man?” Isaac stared at me in shock, blood dripping from his cut lip.

I shook out my hand. “Don’t ever fucking call her pussy again.”

“What the hell has gotten into you?”

“Feldman!” Coach yelled from the team’s box. He never called me by my last name. “Come here.”

I looked up. The stands had gone silent, as fans, ours and the opposing teams, stared at me. Then whispers broke out. I couldn’t hear them, but I’m sure they were trying to figure out why Jack Feldman had just punched his own teammate.

I skated over to Coach.

“I—” I started to say.

Coach shook his head. “I don’t care, Jack. You’re out of the game. Go sit in the locker room. I can’t look at your face right now, and the team shouldn’t have to, either. I’ll talk to you after.”

The disappointment hung off him like a coat. As I headed down the tunnel into the locker room, I glanced upto see Marcus wearing a similar expression. Micah, however, looked thoughtful, eyes working as he watched me. Kara leaned over to whisper something in his ear, and he nodded.

Oh well. First game my brothers actually attended, and they wouldn’t even get to see me play.

Fuck this.

Back inside the locker room, I paced. I wanted to punch something, or someone else. The wall, maybe.

Or Coach.

I was losing it. Isaac was probably right. I needed to let Aviva go. I’d told her I’d loved her, she’d said it back, and then the little thief had bailed. Maybe this wasn’t love after all. Maybe I was so fucked in the head, I’d mistaken lust and hate for love.

Except I could see her, the way she’d looked at me last night, terrified and awed. She was strong and determined, loyal and loving, and I wanted that love and loyalty for myself. I was jealous of Asher, for having that loyalty from her. I was a fighter, not a quitter. But I didn’t know how to break down the final wall separating us, when it was her mission and mine. We couldn’t both win.

I would win.

But it meant I would loseher. And that, I was frightened to realize, was the biggest loss of all.

The door opened. I looked up, expecting it to be Coach, or maybe the team: I’d lost track and for all I knew it could be halftime.

Instead, my brothers and their partners filed in.

“Why are you here?” I glared at them.

It wasn’t their fault I’d lost my shit at Isaac, but I was aching for another fight. The crack of my knuckles against Isaac’s jaw had been satisfying, and I wanted that feeling again.

“I think the question, little brother, is why are you?” Micah raised an eyebrow.

Always calm, always ten steps ahead of everyone. He knew why I’d been banished to the locker room and where my head was at. The fucker always knew everything.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Marcus chimed in, much less chill. “Punching your own teammate, Jack? Did you learn a single thing we taught you?”

Micah raised a hand. “Yacob doesn’t need to be attacked. He needs to be understood.”

My hands fisted at my sides. “Don’t fucking call me that.”

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