Page 98 of Honeysuckle
He clapped me on the shoulders and spun me back toward the lion's den. I was going to be torn to shreds on local television, and I was expected to do it with a smile on my face.
I took one last deep breath and pushed through the doors.
LOGAN
ThemostattractivethingDean Tucker had ever done wasn’t beating the shit out of Ian in front of everyone. It was how he was sitting at the table in the press room with his shoulders pinned back and his bloody knuckles flexed on the table for the cameras to see.
He looked like an enraged god—sweaty blond curls clinging to his neck, his scruffy jaw set tight with anguish. I wanted to make it all stop, quiet the noise, break the cameras. He hated every second of being on display, but he was doing it with a brave face.
His bright blue eyes were blown out and dark as he rode the wave of his adrenaline rush. Coach putting him out there was smart, but also torture to watch from the hall when we could barely hear anything they were asking.
Van hovered beside me, outside the door’s small window, not ten minutes after we all left the field. The sound of Dean’s fist connecting with Ian’s face still echoed in my mind as everyone, quietly and patiently, waited for the word that Dean had entered the press room.
“Josh,” Cael’s voice hissed from my left, he waved me over and I followed him down around a smaller hallway to a door that opened into what looked like another hallway but the door on the other end was open and from it we could seeandhear Dean.
I snuck in quietly behind Cael as we tucked against the wall hidden by a few standing journalists. Cael’s hands found someone, and from the giggle that followed, I knew Clementine Matthews was on the other side. She wiggled her fingers at me in a little wave and went back to focusing on Dean.
From this angle I could see his foot shaking beneath the table, his entire body was vibrating as the media started to ply him with questions.
“Lawson Gall.” A stout man with a ruddy beard stood up near us. “Welcome back to the table, Mr. Tucker. Was today’s loss attributed to the distractions in your personal life?”
“What?” Dean said, his face scrunching in confusion.
“You’ve been under a fair amount of scrutiny. Was that pressure a direct result of today’s game?” He asked.
“I’m very capable of separating my personal life and the game, Mr. Gall. We went out, we played hard, but we lost our focus. Lorette has a strong team this year, we just need to figure out how to be stronger.” Dean sidestepped the loaded question with grace and a touch of anger lacing his otherwise professional tone.
“So none of it has to do with your tumultuous relationship with Cael Cody?” He asked.
“Mr. Gall, can you spell that for me?” Dean asked him, and the man looked confused, but Cael barked out a loud, amused laugh that made a few reporters turn before he ducked down out of sight again. The reporter, unaware that he had been made the butt of some inside joke, sat back down.
“Frank Keller,” the next man introduced himself as he stood. "You’ve been hiding from us, Mr. Tucker.” He smiled. "Why? Did the fight on the field today have anything to do with your avoidance?”
Dean’s shoulders tensed. "If you can call that a fight, I guess.” He flicked his eyebrow as his tongue pressed against the inside of his bottom lip.
“There are rumors that the committee have already suspended you, is that true?” He asked next.
“No.” Dean shook his head. "We have to have a hearing meeting before that happens, but you know that Mr.—”
“Keller,” he offered. “Back to the reason behind the scuffle, was it because of the comments made last conference?”
“You mean when I was outed to everyone in my life without my consent?” Dean questioned him, his voice flat and riddled with discontent.
My chest filled with pride, another new emotion that until recently I had never experienced or least never in the way I had before.
“Uh—Yeah,” the reporter tripped over his words, clearly not expecting something so blunt from the team's resident golden boy.
“No, the beating didn’t have anything to do with me being gay, Mr. Keller.” Dean looked around the room. "Do any of you have questions for me that don’t involve my sexual preferences?”
The room went silent.
His direct approach to their nonsense had sucked all the air from the room.
“Mr.Tucker.” Clementine stepped into the light in her dark skirt and tight white blouse, and it was like a blanket had been wrapped around Dean. His expression softened, and a genuine smile curled on his lips. “Clementine Matthews, Independent.” She smiled back. “We haven’t heard much from you since the season started. How has the team adjusted to Joshua Logan’s presence? That must have been quite the shake-up.”
He relaxed a little, his chest rising and falling with a long, steady breath. “Josh came to Harbor during a transition period, and losing Arlo was rough, but we gained a great pitcher, and with his help, we stand a shot for back to back titles.”
Dean couldn’t see me from where Cael and I were hidden, but I wish he could have.
