Page 21

Easton

I swear my cock has been half-mast since I spent that torturous hour in the gym with Paige. From the outside looking in, we were two strangers—or more if you count the other people there with us—innocently sharing a gym. But my thoughts were anything but innocent. I’m almost thankful that others were there. At least it stopped me acting on the graphic visuals I had running through my mind.

I wanted to fuck her. Plain and simple. I wanted to strip her naked, lay her flat on the weight bench, and spread her legs. Then I wanted to feast on her. Work her clit until she was screaming my name, begging me to stop. And fuck—goddammit, I’m going to get hard again.

Today is going to suck.

“East—”

“Nope,” I cut Zane off before he’s even said whatever the fuck he wanted to say because today is not the day. “Unless you’re about to tell me that you’re a fucking idiot and want to worship me at my feet, then no. I’m not interested.”

“The fuck. I didn’t do anything wrong. How many times—”

“Not today.”

“I was just going to tell you that Coach wants us to run drills and—”

“Again. No. Not today.”

Zane’s jaw drops, but he walks away in the direction of our offensive coach, and a little part of me is glad it’s not Coach Pierce. I’m not at all worried about what I said, but I’d rather not get in an argument with the head coach when I can already feel a weird tension surrounding the staff.

I’m not sure what Zane says—whether he complained like a whiny little schoolboy or took the blame. But either way, when the coach calls us for drills, he teams me up with our second wide receiver instead of Zane, and God am I happy about that development. Michaels is great. He keeps to himself and like me, he doesn’t get involved in other people's business. He also doesn’t fuck his teammates’ girlfriends, so he’s got that going for him.

With the season opener this weekend, Coach pushes us to the limit, but there’s not one person on the team that doesn’t welcome it. We’re out to win. To show the world we’re still a force and that we’re gunning for that back-to-back championship. To prove the drama surrounding us hasn’t affected our game. The TV show and our previous owner's departure are a thing of the past. A blip on our radar. Nothing anyone has to worry about. We are the team to beat. I can feel it.

Has some of Luke’s cockiness rubbed off on me? Maybe. But he was right. He told us from day one last season that it was going to be our year, and his confidence never wavered. It makes sense for us to follow his lead. Even if it pains me.

I’m wrecked by the end of practice but feeling good about the team, and it’s clear to see I’m not the only one. There’s a high around the locker room, and it’s difficult not to get caught up in it. Until the door opens and Paige is standing at the threshold, chatting closely with my dearly beloved sister. The one I’m about to disown.

Sure, she knows nothing about my situation with Paige, but isn’t she supposed to have some kind of built-in sibling intuition? Shouldn’t she just know to stay the fuck away?

As I stare at her, my mind conjures up the images from Paige’s magazine shoot, and I have to bite my cheek to shift my focus.

Paige’s hands move around animatedly, like they often do when she’s invested in a conversation, and my sister’s hooked on her every word, making me wonder what the hell they’re talking about.

After a few seconds, Paige glances up and her eyes lock on mine as she pauses midconversation, holding my stare until the door closes again, cutting off our connection. I shake my head and continue getting ready, but my thoughts remain on the scene in the hallway.

Trying to figure out what’s being said.

No, trying to work out Paige .

Although I have a feeling I could spend a lifetime doing that.

There’s just something about her. Something that draws me in. Intrigues me. And it’s a shame I can’t explore that further.

When I’m dressed, I grab my bag, ready to head to the meeting room, but pause when Keeley enters the room, her expression serious.

One of the guys tries to get her attention, but she shakes him off and continues on her path, stepping up onto her usual bench and yelling to get our attention. “Hey! Quiet. Now. Eyes on me. I’m not messing around today.”

The room hushes immediately. Keeley often calls for attention, but she’s never that aggressive about it. What the hell is going on?

“Coach Pierce will be back in a minute along with Tray McGuire, and I need you all to be on your best behavior. For once. Can you do that?”

One of the guys says something about being a good boy for Keeley, and I have to stop myself from decking him. Other than that, the room stills as Coach and our general manager, Tray, arrive. We don’t need convincing to hush. The fact that Coach didn’t tell us all to shut the fuck up is a little unnerving.

“Thank you all,” he says once again out of character. “I know this time would usually be spent on me telling you all to get your heads out of your asses, but let’s face it, they wouldn’t fit right now with how big they’ve grown. While I don’t want you to get ahead of yourselves, I can agree that you are killing it out there. So if you keep that up, we’ve got another shot.”

Now I definitely know something’s up. He’s being too nice.

“That aside. I’m not here to compliment you. Or tell you what you did wrong. That will come later. I’m here for Tray. But I’ll let him fill you in.”

Our GM steps up and the already quiet room stills. “There’s no easy way to say this, but I’m moving on. This place has been my life for the past decade, but I’ve neglected my family and they want me back. It’s time for me to take on a new venture and let another sucker take the reins. It’s been a pleasure manning this ship, and while I might be gone, I’ll still be cheering you on from the sidelines. I’m a Storm boy for life, and I expect you to be the number one team again this year. Make me proud.”

He steps down and walks away without any further interaction, and you could hear a pin drop. Because what the actual fuck?

Coach jumps up again and thanks Tray for his years of service, talking about his achievements as a GM, crediting him for getting the team to where it is today. And when he’s done, the shock finally wears off. But he too doesn’t give us a chance to question him before they’re both gone.

I expect an uproar, for questions to be flying around, or at least for there to be whispers of speculation. But after they’ve left the room, no one says a thing. Almost like it never happened.

People resume their conversations but the energy is off. The tension is palpable. Whatever just happened was not what they made it out to be. There’s no way he left of his own accord. He would have demanded a proper send-off.

There’s definitely more to it.

I try to catch Keeley’s eye before she slips out of the locker room, but when I raise an eyebrow, she subtly shakes her head. Either she doesn’t know anything, or she has no plans to tell me. Either way, I’m going to ask. Because while I normally wouldn’t care or get involved in matters I’m not a part of, the last thing I need is for the team to fall to pieces. Not when my personal life is a mess.

Word spreads that our meetings are canceled for the day, and the locker room clears out not long after that announcement.

I follow suit, heading home early, and I’ve just pulled into my parking space, ready to switch into dad mode when the messages begin.

Luke: What the fuck was that?

I curse under my breath because I should have seen this coming and switched off my phone. But once I start reading, I can’t stop.

Reed: I don’t know, but I don’t like it

Dylan: What did I miss?

Luke: Tray got the axe

Dylan: What? Why?

Reed: He didn’t get the axe. He resigned

Luke: Bullshit. My money’s on D’Angelo

Dylan: I thought you said he was cool

Luke: I thought he was

Reed: He is. We don’t know he’s behind this

Luke: East. Care to weigh in? I can see you’ve read our messages

Fucking technology. While I agree with Luke that he didn’t resign, I know better than to entertain him and his wild ideas. But it’s strange. And the timing couldn’t be worse. It’s our first game this weekend. The start of a new season and now all the media will be talking about is McGuire’s resignation. If he really loved the team as much as he claims he does, he would have made this announcement during the offseason. So no, I don’t think he resigned. He was definitely forced to leave.

The question is why? And the answer is none of my business. I’m staying the hell out of this. But I fucking hate the fact that we’ll garner more negative media attention. I just want to play the goddamn sport that I love, kick ass, and get on with my life. Why can’t it be that simple?

Easton: I don’t know what happened. And I agree with Reed. We shouldn’t be speculating

Luke: I bet you could find out

What the hell?

Reed: Who?

Luke: Easton

Jesus . Fuck. What does he know?

Easton: What makes you think I’m in the know? Why don’t you ask your brother-in-law?

Luke: Good idea. brB.

Fucking Luke.

I throw my phone onto the passenger seat beside me and move to open the door. But my phone vibrates again, and I can’t stop myself from checking it. Why the fuck would he think I could find out?

Luke: Thomas knows nothing. Or at least, he’s not telling me over the phone. I’m going to head to his place, but in the meantime. East…

I don’t give Luke the satisfaction of responding to his little tension builder. Instead I wait as the three little dots appear. My chest tightens as I prepare to be outed for messing with the owner's daughter.

Luke: Ask Keeley

Jesus . The relief I feel over something I’ve worked hard to keep quiet is immeasurable. Thank God he said Keeley. I had planned to ask her after she finishes work anyway, knowing she’s probably still at the stadium managing the news. The guys discovering Keeley is my sister is painful, and I expect magnitudes of ribbing coming my way, but at least he didn’t say Paige. That’s a secret I’d prefer to keep hidden. For both our sakes.

But if I can’t stop thinking about her naked, and if she’s going to be hanging around the stadium, it’s going to be a hell of a lot harder to hide it.