Rafael dropped my arm.
Asher punched him.
And everything went to hell—again.
CHAPTER 34ASHER
In my defense, there were no kids around this time.
Also in my defense—Rafael deserved it. If I hadn’t punched him, Vincent would’ve. I hadn’t heard him walking behind me on my way out, but when Rafael grabbed Scarlett’s arm, he was right there backing me up.
I’d arrived in time to catch the tail end of her speech and know she definitely didn’t want Rafael touching her. If there was one thing I couldn’t stand, it was a guy who couldn’t take a hint.
However, Vincent and I only got one punch in each before Finley stormed in out of nowhere and pulled us apart. Rafael left without pressing charges—the circumstances were too humiliating for him to contemplate making them public—and Finley dragged us back to the locker room to read us the riot act.
As appreciative as he was of our participation today, he didn’t hold back on ripping us a new one over the brawl on the pitch and over what happened with Rafael.
A seeming eternity later, Vincent and I slunk out of the locker room, appropriately chastised.
“He was livid,” Vincent said.
“Yeah. I had no idea his voice could reach that volume.”
“It was impressive.”
“Mmhmm.” I flashed back to the satisfying crunch of my fist connecting with Rafael’s face. “I don’t regret it though.”
A smirk broke out over Vincent’s face. “Absolutely not. Pessoa’s shiner? That belongs in a hall of fame.”
I chuckled.
I couldn’t wait for Rafael to try to explain away his black eye. His ego was probably more bruised than his face, and he deserved every second of discomfort.
You did not go around grabbing women against their will. Period.
“Thank you for protecting my sister,” Vincent added stiffly. The stadium had truly emptied by now, and the only sound was our footsteps echoing against the concrete floors. “You didn’t have to do that.”
If you only knew.
“You’re welcome.” I cleared my throat. “Thank you for filling in at the last minute.”
“You’re welcome.”
We lapsed into silence again.
We reached the exit and stood there, taking care not to look at each other while we waited for Scarlett and her friends to join us. Scarlett hadn’t seemed too upset by us sucker punching her ex, but Carina and Brooklyn had showed up in time to see Finley herding us to the locker room the way a fed-up schoolteacher would herd his troublemakers to detention.
I didn’t know what the girls were doing. Debriefing each other on our absolute shitshow of a day, probably.
At least we’d raised over a hundred thousand pounds for Sport for Hope (if we included SB’s donation match. Five goals equaled five times the ticket sales).
Vincent tapped his foot. I checked my watch.
Awkward silence hummed.
We weren’t friends, but today’s match and our united front against Rafael had eased some of the animosity that usually tainted the air between us.
So what the hell did we do now?
“Did you guys get it all out of your system?” Scarlett’s voice dispelled my cloud of uncertainty.
She came up beside us, flanked by a wary-looking Carina and an amused Brooklyn.
Vincent straightened beside me.
“Get what out of our system?” I asked.
“The overwhelming testosterone. You did not have to come up and sucker punch him like that.” She leveled us with a stern look.
Vincent and I ducked our heads.
“That being said…” Scarlett’s mouth twitched. “It was quite satisfying to see it happen.”
Our relieved grins broke out at the same time.
“I even caught it on camera.” Carina waved her phone in the air. “In case we have a bad day and need a pick-me-up.”
