Page 206 of Wrong Pucking Player

“Shut up and walk faster,” Wyatt exclaims.

My fellow Pincers have no choice but to gather their stuff up, from water bottles to towels. I know with the last days of heat before we’re hit with fall temperatures, it’s best we prepare for a sweaty session before breakfast.

Ugh. I hate this.

Despite the obvious, some of the Pincers manage to go and congratulate them.

As much as I want to, I know for acting purposes, we can’t do the same as our fellow players.

Winchester would blow a fuse if we did.

I’m with Diesel and Kane, the three of us sharing a look as Winchester joins us.

“Fucking hell,” Winchester hisses. “No fucking way am I settling with that.”

He’s specifically looking my way, his eyes demanding for me to do something about this change of events.

Too bad that’s the least of my problems.

Which is exactly why I’m walking away before anything can be said.

“Armani?”

I ignore Winchester’s call as I head right out of the gym. Heading down the hall, I can’t help but pause when I hear the sound of sobs.

“Hey. C’mon, Fraser. Stop crying. Maybe things will get better.”

I take a step forward to hide my large body next to the wall but listen intently as I realize Fraser and Denzel are further down the hall that leads to the male locker room.

I hadn’t seen either of them during the lifting competition, but they may have arrived when all that was done, and Maddox was revealing what the Vipers made.

“I had fucking hope, Denzel. You don’t fucking get it,” Fraser sobs. “All of them are getting full advances. We… we don’t even get twenty percent of ours. Everyone said to sign because they were so fucking confident that Winchester would fight for it to be raised, and yet look!! The selfish fucker only cared about himself, and even that is low fucking balled.”

“We… maybe we can talk to Coach Johnson? We can figure something out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out Denzel! It’s set in stone. Unless we work our assess off and get sponsors and shit, we’re not making any more money.”

The heaviness of defeat in his voice makes my heart squeeze with agony.

“You don’t fucking realize, Den. You don’t… fuck. My parents sold fucking everything. Our house is on the loan. The van that takes my little bros to school. I promised that I’d make a big enough advance so we could clear it off. What am I going to tell them now? Here’s some chump change, and I’ll make the rest by the end of the season. We’ll be homeless by then, Denzel. I’ll have to drop out. All of this… was just a waste.”

“Wh-What if I give you my share? Would it help?”

“Your sister is dying, and you want to help me? That’s not fucking fair, Den. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Why couldn’t we fucking have a captain like O’Riley? Instead, we’re stuck with a selfish prick who doesn’t give a shit about us, about the sacrifices we made to get this far.”

Sacrifice.

The mere word makes a lump grow in my throat as I stare at my feet.

I know how it feels to be in their shoes.

No. I know how it feels to be Denzel, watching Fraser break down as he realizes there’s no way of fixing his family’s fate.

A hand gently lays upon my shoulder, and I merely lift my gaze enough to see those identical eyes that match mine.

Oliver.

I’m unsure why he’s here but having him present makes me feel a sense of déjà vu as Fraser’s sobs continue to reach our ears, thanks to the hollow hallway.

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