Now’s as good a time as any.
I was going to do this anyway. I was planning on telling Brett everything, but Bowen jumped the gun with one of his tantrums—like usual.
I turn to Brett, who’s stare is so intense it threatens to swallow me whole, waiting for an explanation. At some point in the last few minutes, the spark returned and she looks more like herself. Even now, during all this chaos, I have to stop and take her in.
Suddenly, I pause, my eyes trained on the waist of her jeans. Slowly, I reach over with my thumb and forefinger. Brett looks down to see me pinch something between my fingers and gently pull it away from her waist. When I hold it up in front of her at just the right angle, her mouth falls open in shock.
It’s a long, straight, red hair—a much deeper red than Brett’s strawberry blonde ringlets. And it was caught in the button of her jeans.
With my other hand, I reach past her to open the glove box and grab the plastic bag that holds the extra attachments and charge cords for my cell phone mount. I dump the contents into the center console and then carefully drop the hair—Evie’s hair—into the bag, pinching the top and running my fingers across the zip lock.
I set the bag down in my lap and unclip my phone from its mount, “Before I tell you anything, you have to do something for me.”
Brett glances at the bag and then up at me, “What?”
“I’m so sorry, baby,” I reach over and weave my fingers into hers, lifting her hand to my lips, “I don’t want to ask you for this, but I have to,” I say, kissing the top of her hand.
The look she gives me tells me she’ll do what I ask. Because we can speak in silence through subtle movements of the eye and long, drawn out stares. She knows I love her more than anything in this world and, whether or not she’s still afraid of me and what I may or may not do, she also knows I’ll destroy anyone who tries to hurt her.
I release her hand and pick up my phone, tapping the camera icon and switching it to video mode, “Hold up your phone with the date and time on it,” I tap the red record button, “and tell me exactly what happened—from the beginning.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Colson
High School
“He’s a menace,” Mason brushes past my shoulder, glaring across the soccer field at Bowen.
He’s not wrong. After four years, Bowen’s gotten pretty good. Unfortunately, it’s because he’s perfected his dirty plays. He could’ve been captain, but his penchant for throwing elbows and starting fights got in the way.
Dire Ridge and Canaan only play each other once per season, but everyone knows him and what he does. And I know what he does off the field, too, which is pretty much the same thing.
He’s a menace.
Not that I’m any better, I just don’t run my mouth as much.
Thoroughly displeased, Coach O’Malley paces along the sideline in front of the bench where Alex is laid out with a medic and a couple of trainers hovering over his face. They poke his cheeks and shove gauze up his nostrils while they try to determine whether Bowen broke his nose just minutes before. He was the obvious target—one of our best players second only to Aiden, who throws just as many cheap shots as Bowen.
O’Malley just finished chewing out the ref, but to no avail. Then again, chewing out is relative. He’s all about sportsmanship and the love of the game, so he’s not about to start throwing hands, even over elbow shots. Instead, he stalks along the edge of the field, red-faced, focusing on smart plays instead of revenge.
Strolling back onto the field, I survey the landscape. Bowen saunters back to his position, wiping the sweat from his brow over his shiny black mop tied into a bun at the crown of his head. Then I shift my focus over his shoulder at the stands. Scanning the bleachers, I find her in no time. Her bright crimson hair always gives her away, which is why I never lose her in a crowd.
Evie’s standing between Hildy and Hannah, all three of them in the first row leaning over the concrete ledge stamped with the giant blue Dire Wolves logo. Although it’s a home game and our side is much larger, the stands are split neatly down the middle, the left side a block of red and the right a block of blue. When Evie sees me looking at her, she starts waving her arm wildly. I flash her a smile and then turn my attention back to the game.
I glance back at Alex, reclined on the bench with his bloody nose, and then I look to my left, where Mason is about to throw the ball in. It’s a split-second decision, but what kind of player are you if you can’t seize opportunities when they present themselves?
Ignoring the play, I set my sights on Bowen and begin moving across the field. He’s focused, eyes darting between Rory guarding him and Aiden with the ball. He pivots in my direction and starts running at full speed, eyes trained on the ball as he tries to get into a good position.
He’s blind-sided and has no idea what hits him.
Matching Bowen’s speed, I come in like a freight train, drop down, and slide at the last second, knocking his ankles out from under him and flipping him head over heels. He catches so much air, he doesn’t even touch me before he comes crashing back to earth. When I stand up, Bowen’s lying on his back, rolling from side to side, his jaw hanging open and his eyes rolling back and forth.
The stands erupt in a mixture of outrage and cheers. Nobody seems to care about the red card I get for that one, least of all me. In the meantime, Aiden scores, which only riles up the crowd further.
I’m prepared to get reamed out by O’Malley as soon as I get within earshot, but it never happens. To the untrained eye, O’Malley looks unfazed, glaring out onto the field with his arms crossed as he paces back and forth. It’s only when he turns to the assistant coaches and gives a shrug that I catch his mustache twitch in a momentary snicker.
When Bowen finally makes it to his feet, he heads straight for me. Frankly, I’m surprised he can still walk. I spin around to face him with a smirk.
“Come on, Lutz!” he lunges at me, shoving my chest, “Come at me, motherfucker!”
But I have a good two inches on him and it’s not long before a buffer of players from both sides rushes in and he’s restrained, shouting obscenities at me as he’s dragged the other direction. I flash my eyes at him, backing away as the ref tries to keep control of the situation.
Aiden shoots me a devious grin from across the field as I stroll along the bench, throwing my arm out to smack palms with Alex and the other players cackling on the sidelines. I raise my arm as I pass the stands, drawing screams of bloodlust from the crowd as I curl my fingers in a beckoning motion.
The cheers turn to rage as soon as I cross the invisible line dividing Dire Ridge and Canaan. When I reach Evie, her jaw is nearly on the concrete. Hildy is scowling at me, yelling something about that being a dick move, as if she can fucking talk.
Colson…Evie mouths as she stifles a laugh.
Lingering in front of her, I give a shrug before slowly circling back to the bench. Who doesn’t love a little bloodlust? And it seems to work because we end up beating Canaan after Aiden scores another goal.
The post-game handshake is no different. While everyone else is busy giving their usual congratulations, I’m content to call it even with Bowen until he seizes my hand and doesn’t let go. When I whip around, he’s glowering at me with a little smirk, clenching my hand at his waist.
Mason bumps into my back when I stop short, and immediately brings his fist down on Bowen’s arm as soon as he sees what’s going down. Behind Bowen, Jay Rhinehardt gives Mason a shove and immediately earns a body slam from Aiden. Jay tries to lunge forward again, but is immediately grabbed by one of Canaan’s coaches and thrown back toward their bench while Aiden chortles maniacally. The field is about to descend into chaos when the scuffle is interrupted by Rory’s deep voice.
“Beasts of waste!” our team captain booms behind us.
“Beasts of desolation!” yells another, drawing our attention.
