Page 45 of Contested

That was the only thing Sebastian could hold onto.

He didn’t know about the apartment. He didn’t know about Marcos leaving. He didn’t know about Loren in the café that morning, or Felicity, or about his father’s tumour and him needing surgery. He didn’t know about any of it.

He only knew Sebastian had punched a teammate in the middle of training.

That was enough.

Sebastian let the thought settle, the words sitting between them. He nodded. “I know. I’m good. Thank you.”

“Alright, well, if you’re not careful, it won’t be a choice.”

Jacob’s hand dropped from Sebastian’s chest, and he spun on his heel and headed toward the exit, leaving Sebastian alone.

Sebastian’s mind was too loud for the silence pressing in around him. For a moment, he stayed where Jacob had stopped him, paper held loosely at his side. Noise from the oval drifted in through the hall, muffled by distance and walls.

Sebastian’s eyes fell to the schedule again.

He breathed, slow and controlled. He folded the paper once, then again, until the crease cut through both his and Marcos’ names, and shoved it into his pocket.

|| Chapter Eleven ||

Sebastian – “I can do this”

The following Monday felt rigid from the moment Sebastian woke up. Eyelids heavy, ears pulsing, and the sun hadn’t even risen yet.

He had spent the entire weekend locked away in his apartment. There was no need for him to be anywhere else, so he didn’t. He’d planted himself on his couch, turned on his television, and barely moved.

By Sunday night, his body had the itch to move and to have some sort of function. So, he cleaned. The couch lined back up with the rug. The coffee table put back into place. All the dirty dishes washed, dried, and returned to their cupboards. The first aid kit neatly sorted, checked twice, and placed back where it belonged.

It had stopped his body from feeling like it needed to do something, but it had given his brain too much space to work. Maybe that was why he hadn’t slept well. Maybe that was why he’d woken up two hours before his alarm.

Sebastian ran a hand down his face, then swept the blankets off. Cold air rushed across his body, and a shiver shot through him.

His morning routine followed, slowed down in the hope of dragging it out for as long as possible. Shower. Clothes. Breakfast he made himself eat because training on an empty stomach was stupid.

Today was going to be his first day paired with Marcos.

Starting at the gym.

The Mustangs’ facility was still quiet when Sebastian arrived. A few staff members were already circling the building, and a couple of players had started morning runs or gone straight into the gym. The usual full-team noise hadn’t settled in yet. The hallways held the early sounds instead: shoes on hard flooring, doors opening and closing, low voices carrying from different rooms.

Sebastian stood in the locker room with his bag open on the bench. The schedule Jacob had given him sat neatly on top of his clothes, towels, and boots, folded and placed with care. He didn’t need to read over it again. He knew exactly what it said and what the day would bring.

He sighed, dug through his bag, and grabbed his training gear, changing quickly before he could stand there long enough for the thought to settle too deeply. A few of his teammates filtered into the locker room, giving him small nods or waves as they moved to their lockers. None of them said anything, but the looks on their faces told Sebastian news of the program with him and Marcos had reached them.

Sebastian knew everyone would know about it. Of course they would. Football clubs were terrible places for secrets. A restructured training routine because two players had tried to beat the shit out of each other during match simulation was not something that would stay contained for long.

Still, he didn’t expect the careful way people didn’t mention it.

Did they all think he and Marcos wouldn’t be able to handle being stuck together?

Sebastian zipped his bag harder than he needed to.

He was starting to wonder that himself.

Before, maybe, even with the rivalry on the field and the history between them, they would have been able to work together. To talk to each other. To look at each other without everything underneath it crowding into the room.

Now, it didn’t seem like it. Marcos was clearly working through his own thoughts and feelings about what had happened and didn’t want Sebastian to have anything to do with it. Didn’t want Sebastian to have even a glimpse.