Page 164 of The Wrong Play

I nodded, swallowing thickly, my pulse still erratic.

His dad moved to a mini fridge, cracking open a bottle of water and handing it to me.

“You good, Riley?” he asked, voice calm, steady.

“Yep,” I whispered, feeling incredibly awkward.

Now I was the one forcing a smile, smoothing my palms down Jace’s oversized jersey. “Sorry about that,” I said lightly, like I didn’t have red-rimmed eyes and trembling hands. Like I wasn’tactivelyspiraling. “Jace shouldnothave done that.”

His mom reached out, placing a gentle hand over mine. “That boy’s had a stubborn streak a mile wide since he could crawl,” she said, her voice warming up as she talked about her son.

His dad didn’t seem to be buying what I was selling, though. His brown eyes stayed on mine, quiet, assessing, like he could see straight through the cracks I was trying to plaster over. “You in some kinda trouble?”

“I—I promise I’m okay,” I lied, pasting on another brittle smile. “I just need to sit for a while. Really.” I looked between them, guilt gnawing at me like acid on my skin. “Jace has enough to focus on right now—he doesn’t need to be worrying about me.”

His mom’s lips pressed together, her sharp gaze flicking over me again, like she could sense the storm raging inside my head. “You sure about that, honey?” she asked quietly, leaning forwardand patting my knee, like she really did care what my answer was.

I had an urge to cry again, at the kindness the two of them were showing me when my own parents could show me none.

I nodded, too quickly. “Positive.”

She hesitated. Then, finally, she nodded, too, but I could still feel their eyes on me. Watching. Worrying. Seeing too much.

I sat down next to her. Halftime had just begun, and I could only imagine what Jace was going to get from his coach.

I was alreadyruininghim.

Even without Callum making a move, just knowing I existed in Jace’s world was enough to put a target on his back. Jace had just risked his entire season—his entire future—to chase after me, to make sure I was okay. And his parents? They deserved to watch their son shine. They deserved to see him reach everything he’d worked for, not have it all come crashing down because of me.

The realization settled like a stone in my gut.

I had to go.

I had to leave before I completely wrecked his life.

CHAPTER 30

JACE

The second I stepped foot into the locker room, I knew I was about to get obliterated.

Coach Everett was already waiting for me, his face redder than a damn stop sign, veins popping out of his neck like he’d swallowed a beehive whole. His clipboard—his favorite weapon of choice—was clenched in his hand so tight I half-expected it to snap in half.

“Thatcher,” he barked, and the whole room went dead silent. “What the hell was that?”

I barely had time to drop my helmet that I’d retrieved from the sidelines before he was in my face, close enough that I could smell the spearmint gum he was furiously chewing like it was the only thing keeping him from ripping me apart.

“You don’t get to walk off my field in the middle of a fucking game, Thatcher!” His voice boomed through the locker room, rattling through my skull. “You don’t get to abandon your team—your brothers—because you suddenly have something better to do!”

I clenched my jaw, swallowing hard. “Coach, I?—”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what your excuse is!” he snapped. “I don’t care if your house is on fire or if the fucking commissionerhimself called you personally to tell you he needed a wide receiver! You don’t do what you just did, and you sure as hell don’t expect to get away with it!”

I exhaled, staring straight ahead. I took the hit. I didn’t fight it. He had every right to be pissed. Hell, I’d be pissed too.

“Congratulations, Thatcher,” Coach said, his voice dripping with anger. “You’re benched. For the rest of the damn season.”

A low murmur rippled through the locker room.

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