Page 63 of Playing for Keeps

“Son,” dad says, but I put up my hands to stop him and head for my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. The last thing I want now is sympathy for my broken heart, broken dreams and the last fucking disillusionment I hope to ever suffer in my life.

* * *

After the game,they drive me after the game to Gabe’s house in Gabe’s big SUV. The media is camped out at the stadium’s gate and Gabe manages to lose the tail when he calls the police to escort him to his house. He has security surrounding his house in paid police details to keep the media away.

“That was a close call,” Max says as they pile into Gabe’s house where Mia is waiting with a late-night dinner.

“Which?” I say, “The game or the escaping the media mob?”

Max laughs and slaps my back. “Both when you put it that way.”

Cat says they can handle this with their own spin. Asks how bad his back is. I was worried after that hit, especially because they carried you off.”

He shrugs. “It was just a precaution.”

“I know that now, but it was scary from the stands. So how is it now?”

“Fine. I got a booster shot and I’m juiced on pain meds. Nothing heavy duty, but enough so I can walk around without screaming for my mommy.”

My friends laugh. I try for a smile. The distraction of the game is wearing off as like a shot of Novocain, the numbing effect of focusing on the game and the team and the injury wearing off, leaving a deep trench gashing my soul.

“Seriously,” Cat says. Everyone turns to me. They all want to know, all care.

“Honestly?”

“Yes—off the record.”

I smile because everyone has an agenda after all. Cat is coach Marini’s daughter, but I trust her not to run to her dad with whatever I say.

“Lucky for me we have a bye week.”

“Then take an extra week if you need it,” Gabe says.

“We’re playing— “

“We can fucking handle Pittsburgh after a bye-week,” Hunter says. “Their offense is tough, but we’re tougher,” He smiles and adds, “We have your back.”

I punch his shoulder. “That’s for a bad pun and bad timing. Don’t you know I’m not in the mood?” But I smile because I love the team, love these guys like brothers, like family.

“Shit. I have to call my family. They’re probably worried about my back too.” My parents didn’t stay for the game once the media crowded the building’s lobby and out front. I had a limo take them back to the airport—the kind with darkened windows for the passengers. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I turn it back on to find a jazillion fucking missed calls and texts from everyone I know, from every dam person who ever had my number. Including Chloe. Shit.

“Before you call Chloe, I have to tell you—”

“Who says I’m calling Chloe?” I think about it, but force myself to get a fucking clue.

She gives me a look and continues. “She called me two days ago, before the story aired and told me that she stole the file and cleaned out the hard drive and quit the station. I just wanted you to know that--”

“I know all about it.” I’m surprised Chloe told Cat about it, but I knew Chloe was telling me the truth about deleting the files and quitting. “I know she stole the file and erased the stations hard drive, but that hardly erases everything leading up to that. The idea for the Perspective was hers.”

Just because Chloe had a change of heart doesn’t mean she’s trustworthy.

Or does it?

Cat talks fast about the media and how they have a job to keep people accountable and give different perspectives from the ones we want to give because everyone has an agenda.

“Have you seen the show?” she says.

“No.”