Chapter 53
Gage
Mve web
“So, I gotta tell you something,” Caleb said as we geared up for practice, his gaze fixed on Oliver Camden across the locker room. His stare wasn’t casual either–it lingered, sharp and watchful, like he was trying to piece something together.
“Tell me what?” I asked, c*****g a brow as I ripped into a roll of athletic tape. I wrapped my ankles in quick, practiced movements, trying not to think too hard about what could possibly
be so damn important.
The room buzzed with the usual pre–practice noise–guys joking around, slamming lockers shut, cleats scraping against the tile floor. A handful of new rookies had joined the team after tryouts, and unfortunately, the one who came out on top was Oliver. The guy was good. Too good. It pissed me off to admit it.
What made it worse was knowing he wasn’t just some random rookie–he was the same kid my sister couldn’t seem to shake. That fact alone made every one of his passes, every perfect play he pulled off, dig at me. And yeah, I hated it, but there was a solid chance he’d step right into my spot when I graduated. Maybe even sooner.
Still, something felt off. Caleb wasn’t usually the type to size up other players like this. He’d only joined last year, but he’d put in the work, fought tooth and nail for his spot, and shed the “rookie” label faster than most. He’d gone from warming the bench to actually being on the field, and he’d earned everyone’s respect, mine included. Caleb was solid. Reliable. One of the few guys I knew I could actually count on.
“What do you know about Camden?” he asked finally, jerking his chin toward Oliver, who was laughing at something on the far side of the room.
I let out a short, humorless snort as I pulled on my uniform pants. “I know too much… He’s dating my sister.”
Caleb’s head snapped toward me, his expression shifting like I’d just dropped a grenade in his lap. The color drained from his face, and for a second, he looked like Kenneth did whenever someone threw a math problem at him with more than three numbers in it.
“Was he popular?” he asked, his voice clipped, his eyes still darting toward Oliver like he was trying to connect dots that didn’t fit together.
< Chapter 53
“I don’t know, man,” I muttered, shrugging as I sat down to tug on my socks. “He’s, what, three
years younger than me? I didn’t exactly keep track of who was hanging around him in high school. My sister had plenty of friends, so… probably.”
“Were they on and off?” Caleb pressed, dropping onto the bench across from me. His intensity was starting to get under my skin.
I shrugged again, less patient this time. Truth was, I’d been gone for most of their relationship, and I couldn’t have cared less to ask Jenna about the guys she dated. What I did know was enough–like walking into my bathroom last Christmas to find Oliver half–naked, rummaging through my drawers looking for a condom. That image alone was burned into my brain, and it was more than enough for me.
“Can’t you just get to the point?” I said sharply, standing and yanking my jersey over my head, the fabric dragging against my skin.
Caleb hesitated, his jaw tight, his eyes narrowing in thought. Then he said it–quiet, almost distant, but heavy enough to stop me in my tracks. “He was talking to Bree.”
Still, the whole thing sent a shiver down my spine.
Nobody from the team dared approach her unless I was by her side–scratch that–no guy approached Bree at all unless I was standing right there with her. Word travelled fast on campus; everyone knew Bree was mine. I wasn’t some monster, not that I’d claimed to be, but people had seen me make tackles that left men seeing stars, seen me dominate on the field, seen me stride the halls with purpose. With the kind of size I carried, nobody wanted to take a gamble. That meant, in a crude and satisfying way, she was all mine.
“Why would he talk to her?” I asked, eyes sticking to Oliver as he laughed with the rookies, soaking up the attention like it was a drug.
“He asked her to go steady with him,” Caleb said, his voice low, and I felt the weight of his gaze on me.
My brows drew together, confusion snapping quickly into sharp, barbed anger. “But he’s still with Jenna. Last I heard they were together–like, literally together last mynt.”
I’d invited Jenna to dinner myself, only for her to tell me she and Oliver were eating off–campus. Jenna wouldn’t lie about something like that–not this. Not to me.
Caleb shifted, studying me. “When I asked Bree who he was, she said he was just some guy from high school. But man, she looked petrified. Like she was actually scared of him.”
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My eyes snapped onto Caleb’s, his brown irises half narrowed, searching. “Bree scared?” I echoed, a laugh I didn’t feel trying to escape. “Bree’s not scared of anyone.”
“That’s the thing.” Caleb’s voice was quiet now, like he was summarizing something that didn’t want to be said out loud. “After what happened with Gabriella, I never saw her like that. Uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable.”
Heat pooled under my skin. The image of Bree shrinking, unwilling to look up, tightened something in my chest so fast it almost hurt. My hands curled into fists by habit.
“So we teach him a lesson,” I said, voice low and dangerous, picturing Oliver Camden hitting the floor with that smug look wiped off his face. The thought lit a giddy, savage thrill through
- me.
“Wait.” Caleb grabbed my arm before I could explode forward. His grip was firm, authoritative -Caleb knew how to hold a moment still. “Think about it, Cap.”
I slowed, one foot already moving, letting him reel me back. He kept talking, and the words made the skin on my neck prickle. “She told us she asked out the most popular guy at her school. She said he was on and off with his girlfriend. She told us he leaked those photos- did everything he could to humiliate her.”
My jaw clenched so hard it echoed in my ears. “Get to the point,” I rasped, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.
Caleb met my stare, steady as steel. “Could he be the guy?” he asked–and before I could let that land, before I could make it mean what I wanted it to mean, my phone started ringing.
It cut through the locker room noise like a bell. Every head seemed to turn toward me for a fraction of a second. The line went quiet around us, and the question hung there, heavy and dangerous: was this the thread that would pull everything apart, or the one that would finally tie it back together?
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