Page 2 of Breaking the Rules
“When it start?”
“A-fter after the funeral.”
“After I buried my father? And you want me to believe you only fucked that nigga three times in the last year? Ha. I look fuckin’ stupid to you?” he challenged, back in her space, glaring down at her. “Where you fuck him? In my house? In my bed?”
“Noble, please,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry.”
“Where?”
“Yes. Sometimes at The Majestic or his house when his wife was gone. Is that what you want to hear? I messed up. I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever I need to do to fix this.”
The sight of her repulsed him.
“Take it off,” he grumbled.
Mecole paused her sobbing to ask, “W-what?”
“My ring, take it off.”
“No! It’s mine. We’re getting married in two days!”
“We aren’t doing a gotdamn thing. Take it off!”
Mecole hurried to take it off and place it on the dresser. “Happy?”
“Not even close. Pack up your shit and get the fuck out of my house. When I get back, you better be fuckin’ gone.”
With that, he spun on the balls of his feet and marched out of the room before he did something he couldn’t take back. In his car, he sped to the practice facility with a one-track mind. No one was practicing today.
“I’ll kill your ass, muhfucka!” Noble bellowed as he stormed into the locker room.
His dark eyes were laser-focused on his target, third base outfielder, Oman Marshall. The man he’d called friend since landing in Majestic Falls three years ago. Now he was an enemy. A man who’d violated him while smiling in his face.
Noble’s outburst caught the handful of teammates who were early to practice off guard. This was a drastic change from his otherwise cool demeanor, the team had grown to love and respect. The moment Oman looked up, Noble had his hands balled into fists and landed a punch square in his nose.
There was no talking. No airing out their business, just blow for blow. Oman fought back but not with the vigor that Noble fought. Not with the rage Noble had. And every ounce of it was justified. It took six men to pull Noble off of Oman. He sported a puffy eye, but Oman looked a lot worse than he did. Bloodied nose, busted lip, two swollen eyes, and a cut above his right eyebrow.
Alec Smalls wrapped Noble in a bear hug and pulled him out of the locker room before he could cause any further damage to Oman or his career. In an occupied room, Alec released him and then shoved him backward.
“Yo, what is wrong with you? Huh? You lost your damn mind?” Alec barked, trying to understand where his friend was. “You trying to be in jail two nights before your wedding?”
“Ain’t no fuckin’ wedding,” Noble shared. “He fucked her.”
Alec paused, trying to make sense of it himself. Yes, they were all on the same team, but Noble, Alec, and Oman were the trinity. The three that got drafted together and navigated this sport together. When they all landed in the same city, it was a reunion they didn’t know they needed. Oman stood alongside Alec at Noble’s father’s funeral as pallbearers. In two days, they were due to stand beside him as groomsmen. They were supposed to be family.
“What you mean?” Alec asked.
“I mean that that nigga fucked my woman in my house. She was pregnant dawg! She was carrying his fuckin’ baby!”
Alec closed his eyes, hearing the pain crack Noble’s voice. He’d heard it a year ago when he’d gotten the news about his father’s untimely death. This was like death had come all over again.
“Dammit man,” Alec huffed. “Shit, now I want you to go back and beat his ass some more.”
“I’ll kill him,” Noble stated matter-of-factly. “I’ll fucking strangle the life out his bitch ass body.”
“I can’t have that. Beating is one thing, ruining your life and career over them, never worth it.”
The door opened, exposing the coach and the assistant trainer.
