Page 98 of Gabriel
I race up the field, eyes tracking Deacon until he’s in front of me, and I shoot it back over to him.
“What the fuck,” Austin curses, racing after us. I block him out.
“Go, go!” Felix whoops, hanging back to play defense.
I sprint up the field, my cleats kicking up turf with each of my steps.
Deacon shoots the ball back to me, and I dribble forward, narrowly avoiding Austin’s steal.
Asshole.
I pass back to Deacon.
We’re two-thirds up the field. He’s almost there when Deacon shoots me a look. He’s not going to take the shot.
I spot the cross. Hunt’s coming in from the wing. I get in front of him, just outside the penalty area and he snaps it back. The ball flies high through the air. I time my jump, connecting with it cleanly in mid-air. The satisfying thud of my foot meeting the ball echoes in my ears and I watch it sail toward the goal. Atticus leaps, arms outstretched but the ball goes high, sailing through the top corner of the net.
Goal.
“Holy shit, bro!” Atticus shouts after climbing back to his feet.
I chuckle, my euphoria riding high. “That was fucking magic,” I tell Hunt.
He opens his mouth to respond, but before a single word leaves his mouth, Parker Benson plows right into him from behind.
Deacon doesn’t have a chance to brace himself. His body goes careening forward, and he crashes into the field. Hard.
“What the fuck?” I snap, veering off in their direction. “The play was already over,” I shout, throwing my arms in the air and shoving Benson back.
Not even bothering to apologize, Benson shrugs and jogs away.
Asshole.
I help Deacon to his feet, paying special attention to the way he moves. That fall didn’t look good.
“You alright?” I ask.
He runs his tongue over his teeth, a dark expression crossing over his face. “Great.”
Bullshit. The guy looks pissed.
“This the type of shit I should expect more of?” he asks. “I kinda thought it was just the one asshole.”
My gaze sweeps over to where Holt is. Benson, Chambers, Pru, and a few others stand loose beside him, their gazes trained in our direction.
“Yeah,” I tell him. “Holt doesn’t like being outshined. He’s pulling his boys in.”
If Austin doesn’t want to be cut out of a play, then he should get his head out of his ass and do the fucking play. The dick can’t even fight his own battles. Not that I didn’t see this coming. I knew he’d be pissed and find some way to retaliate. But what Benson did was a bitch move.
Deacon isn’t the one who took Austin’s position. I’m the one who slipped into his spot. The hit should have been directed at me.
Fuck them.
“Is it an us against them sort of thing?” Deacon asks. “I like to know where and how deep to draw my lines.”
I nod. “It’s looking that way.”
The team knows there’s a situation between Holt and me, and that’s enough to draw some obvious lines, but so far, it’s always been Austin against me. This is the first time another of our teammates has so blatantly gotten involved.
