"You knocked out your teammate and a journalist, and all for looking at her?"
"The first touched her, the second dared speak about her with disrespect."
His smile widens.
I scowl. "What?"
"I rest my case."
"I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“But I do.” Ray ambles into the room. Fucker was probably lurking outside the door, looking for an opportunity to insert himself into our conversation. “Derek’s pissed, man. He’s going to come after you on the field.”
“I’d like to see him try.”
Ray scowls. “You can’t go making enemies like you don’t care about your career.”
“It’s because I have a fantastic career, and the kind of track record that my team needs to get through the season that I can get away with it.”
“Aristotle did describe pride as the crown of virtues,” Declan admits.
“Too much of a good thing ne’er did suit anyone,” Ray counters, then bows. “Thank you. Thank you. That was all me.”
Declan laughs, then extends his hand. "I’m Declan Beauchamp, by the way."
"Won’t say I haven’t heard about you, as crass as that may be, but man, I’m in awe of your performance in your last film." Ray shakes Declan’s hand. "Oscar-worthy, if I may say."
"Thanks, you weren’t too shabby last season, either."
"Just gotta make sure I keep at it long enough to break King’s records, here."
"That’ll be the day," I scoff.
"I was referring to your on-field ones, by the way," Ray drawls.
"Fuck you," I say mildly.
Our coach walks in, a grim look on his face. He nods in Declan’s direction, then turns to us. "Gentlemen, now that the day’s practice has been so soundly shorn to pieces, I’m going to have to extend our training sessions by an hour every day for the next month."
"No fucking way." I turn on him.
"Uh, guess I should leave you guys to it," Declan pushes away from the wall, but Coach raises his hand. "This won’t take long, and since we’re not in official training season, you’re welcome to stay."
"If you’re sure." Declan relaxes.
I tip up my chin at Coach. "As you said, we’re not yet in the official training season. So, I don’t have to agree to the extra hour… In fact, I’d say it’s bloody unfair of you to tack on the extra time. But I know I’m in the wrong…" I shuffle my feet. "I won’t apologize for what happened—"
"Of course, not," Coach growls.
"—but I accept the punishment."
"Why do the rest of us have to pay the price with him?" Ray protests.
"One for all, all for one, remember?" Coach’s grin widens.
Ray groans.
"Only silver lining is that I had Abby on hand to talk the journalist down from his high horse.” Coach runs his fingers through his hair. “You’re lucky to have her on your side, else there’s no telling what kind of crap he’d have written about the incident."
I frown. "Abby spoke to the journalist?"
Coach’s grin fades. "She’s outside with him right now."
"Is she now?" I say in a low voice.
Ray and Declan exchange glances.
"Take it easy, man," Declan murmurs.
Coach narrows his gaze. "Am I missing something?"
Only that she went against my explicit instruction not to speak to that journalist. Interesting.
"Assume we’re done here?"
Coach’s frown deepens. "We’re done when I say we’re done."
I hesitate. No one speaks to me like that and gets away with it… Except for Coach Dinesh Droga. He took me under his wing and spent time working with me on my form. He picked me for captain of the team when I was only a few years into the game. He was the first to believe in me, and it’s thanks to him that the sponsorship money began rolling in and I became a billionaire almost overnight. So, when Coach says something, I listen.
"Okay." I nod.
Our medic walks in. "Sorry I’m late. Had to attend to Derek first. He’s fine, but I’ve sent him to the hospital for an X-ray, just to be sure."
The Coach glares at me. "I’m going to have to take disciplinary action against you, you realize?”
But it was so fucking worth it. I tip up my chin.
The medic heads toward me and reaches for my injured hand, but I pull it out of reach. "I’m good."
"Uh, that dressing isn’t the most professional one." He nods toward my hand.
This time I shove it behind my back. "Told you, I’m good. Thanks."
He stares at me, then turns to Coach. "Am I missing something? Is the captain of the English Cricket team going to risk his wound getting infected?"
Coach’s lips quirk, and I suspect he’s hiding a smile. "I’m with our medic in this."
"I’m not," I snap.
Declan stares at me with a strange look on his face.
"What? What’s the issue? It’s only a bit of torn skin and it’s been taken care of."
"By whom?” The medic scowls. “I’m the medical professional dedicated to this team. I’m the one responsible for the health of all of you guys."
"And I am one-hundred percent fine. So, your job here is done."
The medic seems like he’s going to protest further, then turns and stomps out.
I glance from him to the others. "I’m not going to explain myself."
"You don’t need to." Coach’s features soften. "I never thought I’d live to see the day. But hey, every bad boy has to grow up some day, huh? I hope you know it’s not going to be a cake walk, son." Still shaking his head, he leaves.
I glance after him. "What was that about?"
Ray raises his hands. "Honestly, I have no idea."
Declan, on the other hand, has a smug expression on his face. "If you want to hear my thoughts on the matter—"
"Zip it," I snap.
"So, you’re not sweet on her, huh?" Declan chuckles.
Ray looks between us, then he whistles softly. "Ah, so that’s what the coach was on about, huh?"
"Shut the fuck up, you guys." I rise to my feet and head for my locker to get my gear. "If you jokers will excuse me."
"Cade?" Her soft voice reaches me. I stiffen, but don’t turn around.
The men shift uncomfortably. "Uh, we were just leaving. Good meeting you, Abby." Declan moves toward the door. "Catch you later, King."
"Yeah, see you soon… Not." Ray scoffs in my direction then, "Abby, is it? I’m Ray."
I slam the locker door shut and turn. "And he was just leaving." I glance at Ray pointedly.
He coughs, pulls back his proffered hand, and runs his fingers through his hair. "That’s what I was going to say. Good meeting you, Abby." He shoots me a shit-eating grin, then turns and ambles out, following in Declan’s wake.
I eschew the shower, pull off my sneakers and sweat-stained socks, then drop my shorts.