Page 139 of Wicked Savage Cruel
SIXTY-FOUR
Emilio
I’m supposed to be defending my receiver, but I’m taking every chance I get to slam into my teammates during scrimmages. Fuck the plays. I’m going on the offensive. There’s a fucking monster simmering beneath the surface of my skin and I need a release. Bashing helmets isn’t going to cut it.
What was that guy even doing here? Jae. Pfft. And why the hell would she call him? Today is her first day back. I told her I’d be there. That I’d help. Pull my weight. I thought we went over all of this at her place. I told her she was my responsibility too. I want to take care of her and Luis, but she doesn’t even give me the chance.
Dominique throws the ball long, aiming for Roman who is rushing toward the end zone, his cleats flying across the field as the ball spirals right for him. We’re playing blue, the other half of our team wearing red. I see one of the guys in red coming my way and I bend my knees, angling my shoulder to take him right in the gut. My smile is savage when our bodies connect, and I hear the air rush out of him as he takes the full brunt of my aggression. My feet slide back across the wet grass, but I manage to stay upward as he stumbles back, crashing flat on his back.
“Fuck!” he shouts, his chest rising and falling as his fists hit the ground beside him. He doesn’t get up and I hear Coach’s whistle putting an end to the play. I walk over to my teammate, seeing his number and knowing right away it’s Carson-fucking-Bailey. “Did you have to lay me out like that?” he growls, trying and failing to push himself up with his hands. He slumps back, his helmet bouncing on the ground and I shrug.
“Yeah. I did.”
Coach comes up beside me and slaps my shoulder, but I barely feel it. “Hold onto that fire for this weekend’s game. We need it,” he tells me as he reaches down to pull Carson up. “But lay off your teammates.” He pauses. “At least my starters.”
I chuckle. “Sure thing, Coach.”
Carson tears off his helmet and flips me off as soon as Coach turns away. “Fuck you, Chavez. I thought we were cool?”
I take my helmet off and brush past him, making sure to shoulder check him along the way. “Not sure what gave you that idea.”
He curses. “I didn’t even talk to her, man.”
I don’t bother turning around. He doesn’t deserve my anger, but it fucking sucks for him because he’s going to get it. “Line up!” Dominique shouts and everyone hustles back into line.
“I’ll be in on the next play,” I tell him and nod toward one of the juniors on the bench. “You’re up.”
He startles to attention and then runs for the field, Dominique already shouting for him to hurry his ass up. I stalk toward the locker room and drop my helmet on the bench. I need to get my head on straight, but I can’t get the image of her sitting with him out of my head, my kid in the back seat. They looked like the perfect fucking family. Is that why she said no to marrying me? Fuck. To dating me. Because she’s already got her eyes set on someone else?
I drag my hand over my face and kick the locker. I need answers. Spinning in the combination to my lock I tear my locker open and dig through my bag for my cell phone, but before I even have a chance to unlock the screen, a call comes in.
Antonio’s name flashes across the screen and my stomach drops to my feet. Shit. My fingers fumble as I rush to answer, bringing the phone to my ear, my heart lodged in my throat. Is our little sister okay? Did Raul do something?
“What’s up?” I ask as sooner as the call goes through.
“Where are you?” His voice is tight, and my panic increases tenfold.
“School. Football practice,” I tell him.
“Can you get away? Somewhere quiet where you can be alone?”
My brows furrow. He doesn’t sound upset, just… tense.
“Already am. I’m in the locker room. I needed a breather. What’s going on?”
“Sit down.”
“Bro— ” I cover my apprehension with a laugh. “Get to the point. Who died?” I joke, because if anything had happened to Sofia, he would have told me by now.
“Raul.”
What? I stumble back onto the bench and clench the phone to my hear, hunching over as I stare at the ground. There’s a ringing in my ears. Antonio is still talking but I can’t make out his words. I catch pieces of what he’s saying but none of it is making any sense. “Missing. Found at … drunk. Choked on his own…”
I shake my head to clear it. “He’s dead. You’re not fucking with me right now?”
There’s a beat of silence. “Dad is dead.”
I haven’t heard him call Raul “Dad” since Mom left, and for some godforsaken reason, hearing it makes my insides twist into knots. It hurts. A physical pain I can’t describe, and all because a fucker who needed to die finally did.
