Page 115 of Brutal Game

Or refused to.

38

Jack

Intermissions in the away team’s locker room were tense. Isaac still refused to talk to me as he patched his face up, placing ointment over the cut on his lip. He wouldn’t be smirking for a while. Judah, man-bun askew, and Levi, glasses fogged, exchanged glances and did that annoying twin thing they did when they communicated without saying a word. Coach glared at all of us. Dave smiled to himself. The players I wasn’t close to whispered to each other.

By the second intermission, the Kings were down by two, and I knew they all blamed me for it. Guilt swamped me. My team looked up to me, needed me, and I was fucking it up for them. But the guilt for letting down my team was nothing compared to the guilt I felt for what I’d done to Aviva. My brothers were right: I’d expected her loyalty without giving her mine.

I needed to talk to Coach. To get real answers this time. I’d ignored my gut, which usually detected lies, because ifI’d caught him in a lie, what would that mean about my life? What would being loyal to someone who potentially did something so fucking heinous mean about me? And yeah, I’d done some heinous shit to Aviva, too. I’d fucked her multiple times, forced her to fuck me. She hadn’t consented, not at first. I hadn’t cared. And if I were honest, I still didn’t—not if it had gotten me her. I did care, however, that I’d hurt her, that I’d put that broken look in her eyes more than once. I wanted to roar at myself for what I’d done.

I wasn’t pretending I was a good man, wasn’t making excuses for myself. I’d wanted her, so I’d made an excuse to make sure I had her—any and every way I wanted. But as I’d once said to Mason Calloway, it was different if you gave a shit. Otherwise you were just a pathetic predator taking advantage of your power.

Had Coach cared about Asher? Or was he a weak man who’d wanted to feel powerful by subjugating someone he should’ve protected?

I needed answers.

The second intermission ended.

The team filed out.

“Coach,” I called as he began to exit the locker room.

His shoulders looked tight. He glanced back at me, face impassive. “I’ll talk to you later, Jack.”

I shook my head. “I need to talk to you now.”

He sighed, but waited. When the last player—Isaac—walked out, finally looking at me with a questioning glance, he shut the door and turned to me, hands in his pockets.

“I’m disappointed in you,” he began. “I told you not to let that girl get in the way?—”

“Why did you really kick Asher off the team?” I interrupted.

This time, his sigh was filled with annoyance. “Thisagain? Jack, I told you. The young man was troubled. Jealous. Ofyou.Wanted to take it out on me. That girl has gotten in your head.”

I cleared my throat, an idea coming to me. “She finally admitted to me he was into some bad shit.”

Was that a smirk on his face? Like Aviva had said?

He quickly hid it. “Yeah, some really bad shit.”

“Like Vice and Vixen,” I prompted.

Relief this time.

“Exactly, Jack.”

Lie.

I felt it this time. If I were honest, it had always been there. Like Aviva said, I’d been willfully blind.

I hid my thoughts, nodding, and Coach continued.

“I didn’t want you to know about it. No reason to ruin his reputation more than it was already ruined. I know you don’t know much about those drugs—at least I hope you don’t—but they are bad, truly bad. Make people go out of their minds with…lust.”

That tiny, almost invisible smirk was back.

I nodded again. Coach had no idea just how much I knew about Vice and Vixen.

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