Page 4 of Striking Heat
I recognize Cass’s voice immediately, remembering and regretting that she has my spare key for just-in-case reasons.
“Wake up,” Amelia says. “Come on, let’s not spend our free day sleeping.”
“What are you two doing here?” I try to avoid their eyes because I don’t want them to see what I look like, all puffy eyes and red-faced from crying. I want to avoid that for as long as possible—the pity. Cass is no stranger to my tears, but Amelia is a new best friend. She doesn’t need to see this quite yet.
“Just wanted to see how you’re doing,” Cass replies for the both of them. “We read it. We don’t believe it. He’s an ass.”
I try to smile but fail. “You didn’t have to come over here and check on me. I’m fine, really.”
“Fat chance we’re going anywhere,” Amelia says. Her voice is laced with concern, and she’s hovering close by. Her firm voice appears to be coming from right over my shoulder. She’s very near to me, the balcony is not that big, so there is not that much space to take up.
“You don’t get to decide that you want to be left alone, okay?” Cass says. “We’re not doing that. We’ve all seen the paper; the whole team knows what the prick wrote about you. But we’re not buying into it. I’ve decided—we’ve decided.” Her voice comes out stronger now. “So, you’re not going to lie here and have some pity party. I won’t have it.”
Her brown hair is piled on top of her head, blue eyes calculating, waiting for me to make a move. She’s got her take-no-shit stance, hands placed on her hips while one of them is jutted out. She’s on the shorter side, so seeing her try to be tough like that makes me want to laugh. Instead, I just smile.
My attention turns to Amelia, one of the fastest friends I’ve ever made. She’s the sweetest, most sincere person I’ve ever met. She has that aura around her that feels like pure sunshine; there doesn’t appear to be a mean bone in her body. Something about her soft tone makes her so easy to talk to, and she has large browneyes that draw you in. Amelia is originally from Tampa, so she’s the spitting image of what a Florida girl looks like. Tanned, beautiful, and with golden hair. She could easily be a supermodel, but instead, she’s my fierce center-back. One of the toughest ones I’ve ever played with, too.
“Stop moping.” Amelia winks at me. “He’s not fucking worth it.”
She’s right about that. He’s not. Doesn’t make his words hurt any less, though.
“I probably look a mess,” I say, which earns me a laugh from both of them.
“Get off your ass, fix your face and your hair, and we’ll go get some food.” Cass pulls me by the hand to get me to my feet. “Or we can head to the beach or something. Do something fun instead of thinking about all of this.”
I reach for my phone and see I have a few text messages from other teammates, most of them saying not to let this bother me and that no one thinks any less of me. I’ll answer those later. It’s the one from Hendrix that makes me laugh.
Hendrix:Fuck that asshole. I’ll check him, even if it’s in the box, next time I see him.
I show Cass and Amelia what has me laughing.
“Love that girl,” Amelia says.
Cass nods. “She’ll do it too.”
“Oh, I know she will,” I say.
Hendrix, or Henny, as she’s fondly called, is a wall of a goalie. She just couldn’t quite get there last night. But then again, none of us could. She looks fierce, standing at five foot five with broad shoulders and a muscular, curvy build. I wouldn’t fuck with her.
“No more moping over that asshole,” Cass says as she pulls me into a hug. “He’s not worth it and you are one amazing player. You’re freaking Mackenzie Dixon. You were a goddamn All-American. He cannot take that away from you with his words. You hear me?”
I smile at her and nod.
“Good,” she says, smacking me on the ass. “Now go get ready because we’re getting you out of this house.”
And that’s what we do. We head out and get lost in the city. We get some lunch and take a walk through the streets, losing ourselves as we wander. At one point we meet up with the rest of the team and head to our usual bar, The Backwoods Dive.
The walls are adorned with light-up signs of the beer they serve. There are several pool tables in the back, dartboards, foosball tables, and air hockey. It’s a pretty cool spot, with a large dark-wood bar. The bar has tables spread out throughout, and TVs are placed in the corners, allowing the patrons to check out the various sports that are usually playing. The owner, Phil, is close with August, Mr. Cromwell’s son, so he loves it when the team comes in. He’s a huge supporter. It’s nice to have a place to go where you’re welcomed as soon as you walk through the door. It certainly makes a hard day like today so much easier.
Chapter Three
~MAC~
“Ijust want this to be over.” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“I’m sorry, Mackenzie, but that’s not really how this works,” Cindy tells me. “He will focus on you again.” Her arms are crossed, and her brown eyes are boring into me.
All I want to do is get right into practice like the rest of the team, but Cindy requested to see me. I don’t want to talk to anyone from PR. I’m not sure what else there is to say, to her or anyone else at this point. The article has been written. It’s been talked about a few times on local sports shows, and someone even referenced him on ESPN. It must have made him so happy to hear his name on national television, but I couldn’t give a fuck.
