“Let’s give them hell tonight,” Wyatt said quietly as everyone began shuffling out of the locker room.
Give them hell? That was the big pep talk for the night?
From the wary looks on the other men’s faces, Wyatt’s words of encouragement were about as effective as dry glue.
“You good?” Becker nudged his shoulder, his expression serious.
Brody shrugged. “Not really. But there’s not much I can do about it. This investigation is happening whether we want it to or not.”
Sam nodded bleakly. “Yup.” He hesitated, then muttered, “I really wish you’d take my advice.”
He knew what his teammate meant, but he played dumb anyway. “What advice?”
Annoyance flashed in Becker’s eyes. “About Presley’s daughter,” he said in a low voice. “I saw her coming out of a fuckin’ supply closet at the autism event, Brody. And then, what do you know, you walked out a minute later.”
Shit. He’d thought they’d gotten away with that public quickie.
“What the hell are you thinking, man? There’s playing with fire, and then there’s whatever the hell you’re doing. You’re just daring the media to catch you two together.” Sam shook his head in disapproval. “You need to stay away from her.”
Stay away from Hayden? Yeah, right. At the moment, he was doing everything in his power to stay close to her. And he was succeeding. For the most part anyway.
No matter how often Hayden called their relationship a fling, Brody didn’t view anything between them as casual. For the first time in his life, he was with a woman he actually liked hanging out with. Sure, he liked the sex, too—fine, he loved the sex—but there were other things he enjoyed just as much. Like watching art documentaries with her. Holding her while she slept. Teaching her to skate even though she wasn’t much of a student.
He honestly couldn’t get enough of her. She was funny and smart, and her eyes lit up when she talked about something she loved. And it bothered the shit out of him that she seemed determined to keep him at a distance, at least when it came to admitting they were in a relationship. He desperately wanted to bridge that gap, make her realize just how important she was becoming to him.
“Are you even listening to me?” Becker’s irritated voice drew him out of his thoughts.
He lifted his head. “Look... As much as I value your advice, I can’t stay away from her, man.” He shrugged sheepishly. “I’m seeing her tonight, in fact.”
Becker frowned, but before he could respond, Wyatt barked a command at them from across the room.
“Croft, Becker, what the hell are you doing whispering over there? Get on the fucking ice.”
Still frowning, Becker headed for the door, but Brody didn’t immediately follow him. Instead, he intercepted the team captain before he could exit the locker room.
“Craig, wait a second,” Brody said.
“We’ve got a game to play, Croft.”
“It can wait. I just need a minute.”
Wyatt tucked his helmet under his arm. “Fine. What is it?”
What now? Did he come out and ask about the bribery bullshit? Bring up the affair with Sheila Houston?
Fuck, maybe he should’ve come up with a game plan before initiating this conversation.
“Well?” Wyatt said, looking annoyed.
Brody decided to take a page out of his mom’s policy book: honesty.
“I saw you with Sheila at the arena.”
Wyatt’s face went ashen. Then he swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t bother with denial. I saw you.” The collar of Brody’s jersey suddenly felt hot, and the padding underneath it became tight. Sucking in a breath, he added, “How long have you been having an affair with Presley’s wife?”
The air in the locker room grew tense, stifling. Wyatt’s face was still white, but his eyes flashed with indignation. Shoving his helmet onto his head, he shot Brody a frown. “This is none of your business.”
“It is if you’re the player who came forward and confirmed Sheila’s accusations.”
A long silence fell, dragging on too long for Brody’s comfort. Wyatt’s expression was completely devoid of emotion, but it didn’t stay that way for long. After several more beats, weary resignation clouded Wyatt’s eyes.
“Fine. You’re right. It was me.” Wyatt’s hands trembled as he fumbled to snap his helmet into place. “I went to the league, Croft. I’m the reason this fucking investigation is starting up.”
Brody swallowed. His gut was suddenly burning, but he couldn’t figure out if he felt angry, betrayed or relieved. He studied Wyatt’s face. “How did you know Sheila was telling the truth?”
“I had my suspicions at the beginning of the season, when we lost a couple games we had no business losing. Sheila only confirmed it.” Wyatt exhaled slowly, his breath coming out shaky. “I can’t play on the same team as a few assholes that would sabotage us for money. I can’t play for an owner who is willing to cheat.”
Fuck.
Fuck.
Brody believed him. He didn’t want to believe him, but it was impossible not to hear the sincerity, the integrity, rippling in Wyatt’s voice. The man seemed legitimately torn up about all this.
“You know who took the bribes, then?” Brody asked, a sick feeling crawling up his spine.
Wyatt quickly averted his eyes. “Just drop it, Brody. Let the league conduct its investigation. You don’t want to get involved in this.”
