Page 24 of Go Deep

Until it became a noose around my neck, squeezing the life out of me.

It was only after I was truthful with the world that the noose loosened.

But dammit, I still can’t breathe.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my skin prickling under the hot spray. It’s stupid to think the whole team is sucking ass just because I do. Not the argument I’d use if I was ever trying to rally them, but the reality is that everyone has baggage.

Everyone, even that clown Jase Maxwell.

I let out a deep sigh and grab my towel. Wrapping it tight around my waist, I walk into the locker room where some of the guys are undressing. I catch Jase’s critical stare, and while I want to just walk right over to him and clock him in the jaw, I turn toward my cubby and grab my clothes.

Lucas comes up next to me and starts stripping out of his pads. “Hey, how’s the shoulder?”

“Not too bad. Just a little sore.” I shrug. “Occupational hazard.”

“As long as you keep throwing spirals like you did today, we’re gonna be just fine.”

“Except I’m not the only one on the field.”

“Everything will come together.” Lucas grabs a towel. “It’s not all on you. We all have a part to play.”

“Coach isn’t happy.”

Lucas chuckles. “Yeah, no shit. That’s why I was late getting in here. He kept us out there, running.”

“Plays?”

“Nah, just running.” Lucas shrugs. “But things will get better. We still have a few weeks before the first game. The pieces will fall into place.”

“Do you think…” I drop my voice. “That is has anything to do with…uh, you know, me and you?”

Lucas lifts an eyebrow. “The two of us are the only ones kicking ass out there. So if they’re thinking anything, it’d better be how to be more like us.”

I cast a quick glance over my shoulder. Jase’s narrow-eyed gaze is locked on us right now, and a shudder runs through me. He doesn’t look angry, though. He almost looks curious.

Weird. I didn’t think he had any modes other than raging asshole.

“You’re right. We can get it together.”

Damn, this kid is so young, and yet he’s so confident and self-assured, like he doesn’t give a crap about what anyone around him thinks.

He gives me a slap on my good shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

I pull on shorts and a t-shirt, then slide my feet into my Nikes. My phone buzzes, making the walls of my metal cubby vibrate. I grab the phone, a tiny flicker of anticipation rising in my chest. Other than football, the only other thing weighing on my mind, and other parts of my body, is Vince Castro.

But when I drop my eyes to the screen, all hope deflates like a popped helium balloon. Teeth gritted, I stab the Accept button because I can’t keep avoiding the conversation.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hi. I just wanted to call and check in. We haven’t heard from you in a little while.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy with training camp.” I walk into the empty hallway outside the locker room and collapse against the wall, bracing myself for what comes next.

“I just wondered if you’d reached out to Dr. Andrews?”

I rake a hand through my hair. “Not yet.”

“Gabriel, how can you knowingly avoid this? Your father?—”

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