Page 40 of Fragile (Cedar Lakes University #2)

Chapter thirty-nine

Miles

There’s a faint buzzing sound, like a bee hovering dangerously close to my ear. I need it to stop because I’m in the middle of something with Quinn. She’s pinned against the locker room door, moaning my name as my hands explore her body— buzz, buzz, buzz . Seriously, what the hell is that noise?

“Do you hear that?” I ask, my voice rough with frustration. But Quinn doesn’t seem to notice. She’s too busy leaving a trail of hot kisses down my neck, her breath sending shivers along my spine. Buzz, buzz, buzz. The sound is relentless, clawing at the edges of my mind.

I try to ignore it, try to stay in this moment with her, but it’s getting louder. Reluctantly, I pull away from Quinn, the loss of her warm body jarring, and turn to face the source of the noise. Suddenly, I’m not in the locker room anymore. I’m on the field, and Seb is there, hurling something toward me.

“Cooper!” he yells, and I see it—a giant, furious bee zooming right at me. It’s all buzzing wings and stingers, and I really don’t want to catch it. But Seb’s my QB, and I never back down from a pass. I spin, my instincts taking over, but instead of the ball, I crash face-first into the cold, hard floor of my dorm room.

“Urghhhh,” I groan. Peeling my face from the carpet, I struggle to lift my sleepy body from the hard floor. “What the hell,” I say gripping the side of my bed for support. “Jesus.” I wince as I rub my chest.

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

“Fuck! What is that?” I curse, the sound louder now. Just as I pull myself up, I see my phone lit up on my bed, telling me my alarm has been going off for the last thirty minutes. Great, I’m running late for our pre-game team breakfast at the dining hall. Of all the days to sleep in, it had to be today.

Throwing on a pair of shorts and a shirt from my drawers, I grab my phone, swallow some mouthwash, and run like my ass is on fire.

“There he is, sleeping beauty himself,” Hudson teases as soon as I step foot inside. The smell of buttered toast, eggs and bacon assaults me and my stomach groans in response.

“Morning,” I mumble, wandering over to the breakfast bar, piling my plate with everything on offer.

“Dude, your shirt is on backwards,” Seb calls out, just as I pick up an orange juice.

Glancing down at myself, I notice he’s right. “Fuck it, never mind.” I shrug.

“Is there a reason your late, and a reason you’re wearing your shirt the wrong way?” Seb asks, mischief lacing his words. And boy, oh boy, do I wish he didn’t ask me that. I can almost feel my cheeks heating, and I am not about to blurt out “oh yeah, your sister was moments away from fucking me in my dream” the morning of the semi-final championship game. I’m smarter than that, at least.

Instead, I brush it off. “Pfft, like you can talk. I could hear you and Indie allllllll night across the hall,” I lie to deflect any attention away from me.

The guys’ laughter erupts around us. “ Oh, Seb, you’re not as big as Hudson’s monster cock, but I can ride him later,” Hudson jokes, putting on a high-pitched voice which earns him a slap from Seb.

“What the fuck, man?” Seb grumbles.

“I can imagine you getting all growly, really showing her that captain side to you,” Hudson replies with zero filter.

“Firstly, how did this become a me thing?” He points to me. “He’s the one hooking up and not getting shit for it. Secondly, why the fuck are you so invested in my sex life, Huds?”

“Sex is amazing. I want to know that my friends are having great sex.”

“Weird, man,” I mutter through a mouthful of eggs.

“Really fucking weird,” Seb agrees.

After eating our body weight in breakfast, we head over to the stadium for warmups and a team meeting.

At the stadium, the field is dewy, glistening in the winter sun. The stands around us are empty now, but you can almost feel the energy that’ll fill them later. We hit the field, getting into our warmup routine. The sound of cleats on the turf, footballs smacking into hands, and coaches shouting instructions fill the air. Everyone’s shaking off the stiffness, getting focused, and building up the intensity for the game ahead.

One thorough warmup complete, we all head inside to clean up and get ready to review strategy. As soon as I’m dressed, I hear my phone ringing. My heart does a little leap in my chest because I hope it’s Quinn. Stepping outside of the locker room, making sure I’m not followed down the hall, I answer the phone. “You know, I missed you this morning. I think we need to make a rule that you always sleep in my bed the night before games.”

The line is silent. Not a cricket makes a sound until I pull the phone away from my ear to check who is calling and the name makes my fingers go cold.

“Dad,” I croak.

He clears his throat. “Well, it’s good to know where your priorities lie on game day, letting cleat chasers occupy your time.”

Fuuuuck.

Realization hits me like a slap to the face. In my haste to leave this morning, I forgot to block his number.

My mind races as I desperately search for something, anything, to say that’ll get me out of this. “We’re about to have a team meeting, Dad. I really have to go.”

“Don’t you fucking dare hang up on me,” he snaps, his voice so sharp and venomous that it’s like a punch to the gut. My throat tightens as I try to swallow, and I can practically hear that familiar vein on the side of his head throbbing through the phone. He sighs, long and irritated, a sound that makes my stomach churn. “I’d like to say I know why my son is ignoring me, blocking my calls and emails, but the truth is, he evidently has no fucking respect.

“No respect for what I’ve done. No respect for how much time and effort I’ve put into making sure your career doesn’t end in college. Instead, you’d rather fuck around, wasting your time on girls who’ll drop you the second they realize you’re not going pro. Ask me why, Miles. Ask me why that won’t happen.” His voice drips with anger, and I can feel myself shrinking inside, every part of me pulling back, trying to escape. But I know there’s no getting away from him.

“Why?” I whisper, barely able to keep my voice steady.

“Because you missed a fucking meeting I set up with an agent this morning,” he roars, and my shoulders slump under the weight of his words. “Not only are you playing like shit, but now you’re dragging my name, my reputation, through the fucking dirt. Do you have any idea how humiliating it was to explain to Taylor fucking Lawrence—one of the top agents in the business—that I had no clue where my own son was, or why he didn’t bother to show up at the coffee shop?”

Taylor Lawrence. Shit. I know that name. Coach mentioned him a few times. He’s a big deal. A really big deal.

“Dad, I’m—”

“Don’t fucking apologize.” He’s cutting me off before I can even get the words out. “It means nothing. Why the fuck didn’t you show up to the meeting? I emailed you the details. All you had to do was be there.”

My mouth goes dry, and for a moment, I’m completely paralyzed, my brain scrambling to find an excuse, a reason—anything that’ll make this right. But there’s nothing. Nothing except the truth I’m too scared to say out loud.

“You think this is a joke, Miles? You think you can just coast by, and everything will fall into place? You think you’ve got time to waste, pissing away opportunities like they’ll come around again? Newsflash: they won’t. And you’re sure as hell not getting any younger. Every mistake you make, every chance you blow, is another nail in the coffin of your so-called career. You’re fucking lucky you’ve got a dad who actually gives a damn, who’s been busting his ass to keep you on track. But maybe I’ve been wasting my time. Maybe you’re not cut out for this, after all.”

My mind snags on one word. Lucky . He thinks I should feel lucky.

Something hot and angry bubbles inside me. My heart starts to pound a dangerous beat, but not in the way it does before a game. This is something else, something darker, twisting inside me, feeding on every bit of doubt and fear I’ve ever had.

“I… I didn’t—” My voice is barely a whisper, trembling as I try to get the words out, even though I’m not sure what I was going to say.

“Didn’t what? Didn’t mean to fuck up? Well, congratulations, because you did. And you’re not just screwing up your own life, but you’re dragging me down with you. Do you think people don’t know who your father is? Do you think my name isn’t attached to every move you make? When you fail, I fail. And I’m not going to let that happen. So, get your head out of your ass and start acting like someone who gives a shit. Or else you’re going to lose everything before you even realize what you’ve thrown away.”

My thoughts start to spiral, sinking deeper into that dark place where every insecurity, every fear I’ve tried to bury for the last few weeks, comes rushing back up to the surface. I’m drowning in it, suffocating, being blinded by it. The ground feels like it’s slipping out from under me, and I’m desperately trying to hold on, but there’s nothing to grab onto. Just his voice, and the overwhelming certainty that no matter what I do, it’ll never be enough.

“Nothing to say?” he barks with a sadistic laugh. “Typical. Well, you should know, Taylor is in the crowd tonight, but I doubt he’ll have any interest in you after the stunt you pulled this morning.”

He hangs up before I can respond, not that I had any plans to. I stare at the phone in my hand, feeling numb. The reality of everything starts to sink in, and I feel like I’m being crushed under the pressure.

Taking a shaky breath, I look around, realizing that I’m still lurking in the hallway. The rest of the team is probably already inside, getting ready for the meeting, while I’m here, completely falling apart. My chest tightens again, but this time it’s not just anxiety. It’s fear. Fear of what happens next, fear of what I’m becoming, fear that maybe my dad is right—that I’m not cut out for this, that I’m throwing everything away.

I force myself to move, my legs like lead as I head toward the locker room. Each step feels heavier than the last, and by the time I reach the doors, I’m barely holding it together. I push through, trying to keep my face neutral, trying not to let anyone see the mess inside me.

But as soon as I step into the locker room, the noise, the laughter, the energy—it all feels like too much. I can barely hear the conversations around me, the pounding in my head drowning everything else out. My teammates are joking around, hyped up for the game, but it feels like they’re in a different world, one I’m not a part of.

I slip into my spot, attempting to stay invisible, but I can’t shake the feeling of eyes on me. I try to focus, try to pull myself together, but my mind keeps spinning, replaying my dad’s words over and over. Every mistake, every missed opportunity, every time I’ve fallen short—it all comes rushing back. The panic rises, making my blood rush around my body, but I push it down, forcing myself to breathe, to calm down.

I try to picture her. Try to hear her voice. Feel her touch. Smell her cinnamon scent. The desperate need I have to make sure I’m worthy of her.

The more I try to push it away, the stronger it gets, until I feel like I’m going to explode. My hands start to tremble, and I quickly shove them under my thighs, hoping no one notices.

“Miles, you good?” A voice cuts through the chaos in my head, and I look up to see Seb staring at me, concern etched on his face.

I nod quickly, giving him a tight smile. “Yeah, just… I just need a minute,” I mumble, my voice barely steady. “Big game tonight.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but as soon as his mouth opens, Coach walks in, and the meeting starts. I go through the motions, nodding when I’m supposed to, but it’s all just a blur. All I can think about is what happens if I fail—if I let everyone down, if I prove my dad right.

I should be listening to the plays we’re doing, I should be paying attention, but I can’t keep track of my thoughts. When coach says we can break and be back here in an hour for suiting up, I practically sprint out of the locker room.

I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts that I barely notice when someone bumps into me outside, hard enough to knock me off balance. I stumble, catching myself just before I hit the ground, and when I look up, my heart skips a beat.

“Whoa, easy there, big guy,” he says, then recognition flickers in his eyes. “Miles, man, I haven’t seen you around.”

Levi stands in front of me, his usual cool demeanor on like armor. “Levi.” I nod, trying to sound indifferent.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He chuckles as he takes a step closer to me. “I’m glad I ran into you, today.”

That makes one of us. The last thing I need right now is him in my face. Especially not when I’m already hanging on by a thread. When I don’t engage, he pushes more.

“Because you know, I figured you might need something from me, like old times…”

I stiffen, my mind flashing back to last year. The semi-championship game, the first time I’d taken anything. I’d been a mess then, too—pressure, nerves, everything piling up until I felt like I was going to implode. Levi had been there, offering something to take the edge off. And it had worked, hadn’t it? I played one of the best games of my life. We won and my dad was briefly happy. I think.

“I’m good,” I say, side-stepping him.

“Really?” he guffaws. “You don’t look good. You look like you could fall apart.” He stares at me, those dark eyes making me shudder. “Come on. You remember how it helped last time, don’t you? Got you through that game, made you a hero for a night. I’ve got the same stuff, maybe even better. Just a little something to calm those nerves, help you focus. You need it, man—I can see it in your eyes.”

My stomach twists as the temptation is stronger than I want to admit. He’s right—I do remember how it helped. How everything had seemed to slow down, how the panic had melted away, leaving me sharp, focused, unstoppable. But there’s a vision of red hair, green eyes, and perfect freckles that’s stopping me. Everything good in my life right now is because of her, and I can’t do that to her.

“I’m not doing that anymore, Levi.” I’m trying to sound firm, but even I can hear the doubt in my voice.

He gives me a knowing look, his smile widening. “Yeah? You sure about that? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you could use all the help you can get. You’re not gonna let one rough day ruin everything you’ve worked for, are you? Think about it—your dad, the team, your future. All of it, just a little bump in the road if you take care of business. And I’m offering you the way to do that.”

Glancing up, I meet his eyes, and for a split second, I see a way out. A way to push the fear away, to silence the doubts, to be the player I’m supposed to be. To stop all this shit with my dad.

“Tell you what…” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls something out. “I’m giving you these for free, because we’re friends, and if you ever need anything else, you come see me.”

He leaves, and my hand tingles with a familiar plastic bag that feels like it holds my entire future inside it. A decision I know should be easy, easier than breathing, because what I want to do isn’t the right thing. But I feel like a caged animal, desperately seeking relief from being locked up. I know I shouldn’t take it… I know that. I stare at the bag, my mind racing. I know I shouldn’t. I should turn around, go find Quinn, or just get the hell out of here. But Dad’s words are still echoing in my head, gnawing at me, tearing me down. No one would know, no one needs to know, this is a one-time thing .

And my last thought is that I hope she can forgive me.