I can practically see the words hit him. “You piece of—” He tries to fly at me, but the others are already there, pulling him back. “In my house? Under our fucking roof?”
If I thought it’d make me feel better, then I was wrong.
Our fight doesn’t muddle the game. Emory won’t let it. He’s stone cold, flinging ball after ball in my direction, like he’s daring me to fail.
I don’t. I won’t.
I score touchdown after touchdown. I’m a fucking machine out there. Adversity isn’t a problem for me, I thrive on it. But that’s me. More than once, I catch sight of my girl in the stands, camera clutched in her hands, eyes red, forehead worried. This isn’t the kind of situation Vandy flourishes in. The gaping chasm between Emory and I hurts, but he’s her brother. She has to live with him. She loves him.
No one can tell everything is crumbling. Not during halftime when Headmaster Collins announces Emory, coated in a sheen of sweat, and Aubrey, cute and sparkly, as our newly crowned Homecoming King and Queen. Or when Sydney lunges at me for a post-game, celebratory hug. I peel her off without another thought and head toward the showers, stopping at the fence where she’s waiting for me. Vandy smells so sweet and fresh that I just want to wrap her up in my arms and bury my face into her neck.
The firefly charm is hanging around her neck.
“We’ll figure this out,” I tell her. “Don’t panic.”
“I’m not,” she lies. It’s not even half-hearted. It’s like one-fiftieth-hearted. Her face is drawn and she looks all at once sad and terrified.
I mutter a low curse and wipe my face with my jersey. “Let’s give him a chance to cool off, get through tomorrow night, and then we’ll deal with it, okay?”
She nods and I beat a hasty retreat, knowing that if he catches us talking, shit will escalate fast. If Em squeals, I’ll get sent packing, and at this point, I’m not sure I’d call his bluff.
What he doesn’t get is that Vandy has leverage of her own. She’s documented everything about the Devils since the beginning. If he pushes her… well, she may just take the whole thing down. Including herself.
People are talking when I get into the locker room. Emory’s still on the field, taking pictures, but the rest of the guys are in the room, sweaty and tired.
Some junior I barely know is saying, “So McAllister’s hitting that shit?”
“Apparently,” Ben says.
Another senior pipes in, “Well I hope he keeps banging her and fighting with Hall about it, because those two were killing it out there.”
The junior agrees, “It was like McAllister was possessed.”
Carlton’s sharp voice drifts in. “This is serious, okay? You know how Emory is about his sister.”
“Do you really think Reyn…” Ben trails off, voice low and uncomfortable, but I can’t see him yet.
“Nah,” Carlton says. “I know Em. That girl could have her consent signed and certified in a court of law, and he’d still find a way to ignore it.” I slump, exhausted and relieved, against the wall. At least these guys don’t think so low of me. So low of Vandy. “This was always going to happen, sooner or later. The fact it was his best friend?”
“Fuel to the fire,” Ben agrees.
They all go quiet when I walk in, eventually changing the subject to this game’s point spread. I rip my pads off mechanically, barely seeing what I’m doing. It’s not long before Emory walks into the room. I don’t see him, but I can feel the shift in the energy, the hush and tension.
His locker’s right beside mine, which used to be a good idea.
Now, not so much.
I don’t look at him, but my anger has already fizzled. It’s been replaced by something cold and tired. “We didn’t do it to hurt you.” I keep my voice low, but I know he hears me. I can tell by the way he goes still before jerking his pads from his shoulders. “And it’s not just a physical thing, it’s—”
He slams the locker closed and walks toward the showers, ignoring me.
Ben gives me a look from the other end of the row, but I just shake my head, resigned.
I think back to that promise I made eight years ago.
“Do not be fucking with my sister, Reyn.”
“What?” I asked, stuffing a candy bar into my mouth. Emory and Vandy had gone trick or treating, but I was content to swipe my candy from the other kids’ bags. “Why would I mess with Baby V?” She was so cute that night in her little angel costume, silver halo bobbing along as her wings dragged the ground. “I like your sister.”