Page 97 of Honeysuckle
“Hey, Tucker,” Ian called out, and I turned to look at him over my shoulder as the rest of the team wandered out of earshot. A sick, twisted smile formed on the first baseman’s face. “His favorite date spot is the shower room.”
The rage boiled in my chest and spilled over as my vision blurred at the corners. Every muscle in my body tightened painfully, and I almost asked him to repeat himself, because there was no way he was stupid enough to bring that up.
I’d never felt anger the way I did as I spun on my heel towards him. Blinded by the fury, I felt Josh’s finger tips brush against mine in an attempt to hold me back, but it was too late. I heard him scramble after me in the clay, but I was faster, and before I could be stopped, my arms were wrapped around Ian’s middle, and we were slamming into the hard ground.
Ian tried to protect his face, but my fist found it before he could get his arms up. I didn’t pull it either, I put the full force of two-hundred-and-fifty pounds behind it. I wanted him to feel the bones in his face break; I needed him to.
Losing control was too easy. All the frustration, shame and anger that I had been storing away for weeks was overflowing. It felt good—too good. Effortless, almost addictive, to pummel Ian, he was the face of homophobia in the league, and he was just as bad as my mother and family. It all melted together, and suddenly I could hear all of them hounding me for answers, begging me to benormal. To fit in. But I did fit in, just not to their narrative!
“Fight me back!” I screamed at him and cocked my arm back for another punch but he just cowered below me and before I could throw the punch fingers wrapped around my elbow.
“Enough.” Arlo was there, the only person that could truly silence the anger with just a look and I felt it rush from me, down through my toes into the unsettled dirt like a shot of electricity. His dark eyes screamed understanding but his tight grip and tense jaw communicated authority.
An unfamiliar growl of annoyance left my throat as I climbed off Ian, still whimpering as the blood poured from his nose. I stared down at my bruised knuckles and inhaled once before turning to the Lorette’s dugout.
“Keep your dog on a leash!” I snapped, pointing at Ian. and stomped back to our dugout, passed Josh who was standing where I left him. His face was completely unreadable as Cael approached him. I ignored Cael, shaking him off as he reached out to check on me.
I marched down the steps, aware that everyone was watching me. Coach was waiting with his arms crossed. "I guess you missed the ‘no breaking your hands on faces’memo,” he huffed.
I ignored the need to obey him or feel ashamed of what I had done and looked over at Josh, who was talking to Cael quietly. His eyes locked on mine over Cael’s shoulder.
“Why isn’t there a restraining order in place?” I asked Coach as Silas wandered over to take in the conversation.
“Not here, Tucker.” Coach shook his head.
“Tell me,” I snapped, wincing at Coach’s expression at the demand. I was letting Ian get to me, it was making me irrational and mean. “Sorry, I just—”
“I know, let me deal with Lorette. You’ll probably get suspended for this, Tucker, but you did the right thing,” Coach said, putting his hand on my shoulder. He made sure I was looking at him, listening completely. “Take that anger and go talk to the press,” he said.
“Ryan,” Silas said, a soft warning that it might not be the best idea.
“No, this is the only time when he’s going to have the courage to do this,” Coach argued without looking away from me. “Ride that adrenaline rush, answer their questions, but don’t let them push you around. You understand me, son?”
I nodded, swallowing the bile that stung my throat.
“I’ll go with him,” Silas said, and he tapped his fingers over his heart as my eyes flickered to him.
I wanted to say something to Josh, but when I stepped toward him, he shook his head and broke eye contact with me.Fuck.I followed Silas down the tunnel, and only when we were alone did he turn to me.
“Are you okay?” He asked, holding out his hand for mine. I gave it to him and nodded. “Good, are you also out of your mind?” He scowled as he inspected the irritated knuckles. “Since when do you pick fights?”
“He baited me and I fell for it, I’m sorry,” I mumbled, and Silas narrowed his grey eyes on me.
“Josh told you,” he said quietly, and I nodded.
“He told you?” I asked, confused that he had shared something like that with Silas.
“I know enough, and it wasn’t his choice,” Silas said. "I told him that he either told me what started the fight or he didn’t get a chance with Harbor.”
“Oh,” I said, and let my hand fall back at my side.
“Are you sure you want to do this? They aren’t going to be nice,” Silas said, double-checking my mood.
“I can do it,” I said, my confidence was waning, but I couldn’t feel anything. My blood was pumping too quickly to pause for fear.
“Alright, kid.” Silas didn’t seem convinced, but he nodded. "If you need a rescue, slip pineapple into the conversation. It’ll be our emergency code word.”
“Pineapple?” I huffed a laugh—ridiculous, but kind of perfect.
