Page 20 of Golden Rule

And he’s doing so at our expense.

“Ira Woods here, fromThe Tribune.” He stares directly at me, squaring his shoulders. “My question is for West. I’m curious what your expectations are in terms of team cohesion. Do you anticipate pushback from the teammates standing in solidarity with former quarterback, Reed Lawson?”

My heart’s racing as I force myself to remember Joss’s advice.

It’s like Dane and Sterling have telepathy, because I swear I hear them inside my head, begging me to keep my shit together.

“Thanks for the question, Ira. I’ll start out by saying that the guys on the team are all adults, and I’d like to think they intend to behave accordingly. With that said, weallcome into this industry understanding that, above all else, it’s a business. So, for that reason, most of us know not to take anything too personally. This situation is no different. Reed is an excellent quarterback, and he’s still got a lot of good years left in him, but with the team being under new leadership, the vision shifted a bit, and all parties involved are making adjustments accordingly.”

Ira smirks a bit, and I already fucking hate this rat.

“Thank you for your response. Just a couple more questions,” he says.

I mirror his fake smile. “Go ahead.”

He glances down, flipping the page of a small notebook. “I hate beingthat guy,but someone’s gotta ask the hard questions.” He peers up at me before continuing, and I know for a fact that he fucking loves beingthat guy.“I think we’re all a little curious about your shoulder. Or, rather, how it’s healing. I, for one, was really surprised by Coach Wells’ decision to replace a perfectly healthy quarterback with one who’s sustained such a significant injury. A fairlyrecentinjury, at that.”

My blood’s boiling, but a quick glance toward Blue settles me a little. “I suppose that’s a matter of perspective, Ira. My treatment was overseen by a team of world-renowned surgeons and specialists, and following surgery and ample recovery time, I completed the full scope of the required rehabilitation program. At which point I received a clean bill of health from that same team of professionals, so… some might argue that I’m just as healthy as any other QB in the league.”

Asshole.

Ira smirks as if he just heard the insult I only uttered in my thoughts, and I know he’s far from finished with this.

“Right, but… it was kind of touch and go for a while, was it not?” he asks.

“Only as much as with any athlete, in any industry, who’s ever sustained an injury,” I answer, trying to keep my cool. “But as I just stated, I followed the doctors’ orders down to the letter, and then worked damn hard to regain my strength and full mobility.”

Shit. I sound rattled. Relax.

This time, my gaze shifts toward Joss instead of Blue, and she narrows her eyes at me, in that same way she’s done practically my whole life. It’s the look she gives to let me know I’m treading on thin ice.

“Any concern that some might view your decision to abandon your team in Sacramento as… I don’t know… disloyal? I mean, Coach Howard did take a chance on you, bringing you back following your injury.”

I don’t speak right away, and you could hear a pin drop. Slow steady breaths flow out of me and it’s all I can do to keep from saying some shit on national television that I can’t take back.

“I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again, anyone who knows anything about this industry knows that it’s all business. Nothing personal.”

Ira nods slowly, and I imagine myself knocking his fucking teeth down his throat.

“Fair enough,” he says. “Final question. I get that you three are looking forward to being near family and friends again, but being back in Cypress Pointe can’t beallgood, can it? I mean, there has to be at leastsometension, moving back to a city where the Golden name was so highly scandalized. Your father, Vin Golden, was involved in a rather high-profile criminal case before his death. That has to?—”

“Enough.” Coach Wells stands and that single word booming from his mouth silences Ira and everyone else completely.“You’re a guest here, Mr. Woods, and if you intend to be invited back, I suggest that you remember to come at my players with respect. Is that understood?”

Ira doesn’t respond, but his gaze lingers on me a moment longer before he finally returns to his seat. There’s a strange vibe in the room now, dampening yet another pivotal moment that should have felt like a win. Now, there’s this cloud hanging over us, darkening as those in attendance are likely all thinking along the same lines as Ira.

That bringing me here was a risk Coach Wells shouldn’t have taken.

That we should only feel shame being back in Cypress Pointe after what our father did.

That we’re out of place, infringing on the other players’ territory.

That we don’t belong.

Tammy motions for Micky to quickly wrap things up, a sign that shetoorealizes this just unexpectedly went left. As Micky gives his closing remarks, smoothing over what’s left to salvage of this press conference, a thought enters my head I didn’t think would ever come to mind. I’m wondering if it was all worth it—taking this position, moving my family across the country, leaving Sacramento.

If I’d known then what I know now, that phone call with Coach Wells a few months ago might’ve gone a whole hell of a lot differently.

@QweenPandora:

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