Page 331 of Vicious Saint
“Keep things vague for now, but don’t refrain from showing interest. Bill’s got a thing about enthusiasm, even from the players he’s hungry for,” Dad states, leaning in. “After all, it was you who said you wanted to earn your spot. I’d imagine that hasn’t changed regardless of which college you attend.”
Of course the fuck it hasn’t, why else would I have been busting my ass this season training in between everything else? My father knows this, but as always likes to cater to my pride when making a point.
And since it’s a good one, I decide to keep my options open, mostly because I know Hendrix would want me to. The restbecause even though I want to be, I’m nowhere near as selfless as she is when it comes to long distance.
So if I have to glue her ass to my bed in South Carolina, so be it.
I’ll buy Hendrix her own fucking university, along with every professor from Bromwell.
Courtesy of the two men waiting for me, all I can respond to my dad with is a clenched jaw.
“Straighten your jersey, look presentable,” he demands right before we reach them. “And maybe leave out the mention of staying local.”
“Don’t you have an annoying wife to fuck?”
Yeah. I’ve got some tricks for him in my arsenal too.
“Saint, this is Bill Reilly, head coach over at Vanguard.” Balkan claps a hand on the guy’s back. “I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”
Holding my hand out for the guy to shake, I nod and say, “I have, nice to meet you sir.”
He shakes mine in return. “I’ve heard just as much about you, son. What a win today. You were exceptional.”
After a few more rounds of Bill’s compliments, he moves on to game talk, the plays, my execution, and even my history on The Royals.
All typical selling points from a man trying to recruit the most sought out high school quarterback in the state.
“Coach Balkan here tells me you’ve been considering a spot on The Renegades. I won’t lie and say it’s not music to my ears.”
“I have…ever since I watched you guys take out Florida State’s decade-long streak.”
I think it’s been proven by now I’m not one to kiss ass, but when it comes to the game, I give credit where credit is due. O’Reilly’s first year with The Renegades, and they managed to bump The Mavericks out of the first spot.
“It was a good year, even better since. We’ve got a solid line up of freshmen, would be even better if you were a part of it.”
My throat turns to dust, not because of how long I’ve waited, or how hard I worked to hear this guy say those words, but because they’re not packing the punch I thought they would.
Hendrix coming into my life has altered the visions I had for myself. Shifted my thought process. Made every decision feel that much more finite.
Not in a way that sets restrictions, but in a way that sets extensions of who I am. More so, who I want to be.
Where I want to be.
And that’s anywhere she is.
“Actually, I’ve been considering—” My response gets cut off by the loud ringing of a phone.
We find out quickly it’s my father’s when he pulls it out of his suit jacket pocket.
“Sorry, I’ve gotta take this,” he apologizes, then pierces me with a stern look. “You guys keep going, I’ll be just a few feet away.”
My lip twitches as I watch Dad stride over to Balkan’s office, closing the door behind him before picking up the call. Through the window I see him talking, covering one ear, as if trying to listen closely to whoever is on the other end.
“You were saying?” O’Reilly picks up where we left off, and I take my time dragging my attention from the office, unable to shake the sense of dread creeping up on me all of a sudden. It takes over in the form of a pang in my chest, making me wince like I’ve been stabbed by an invisible object. So hard I have to physically rub it to thwart the pain.
I’m asked a question, but it’s hard to tell what or by who through the sound of my heart beating in my head.
Something’s wrong…very fucking wrong.
