Page 58 of Forever Defiant
“Oh, okay! Sorry!” she replied, and the footsteps retreated.
I leaned back against the cabinet, breathing out the tension. I’d completely forgotten that this room was sometimes used as a quick makeout spot, and I was suddenly very glad it was, because it easily explained why it was locked and why she had accepted it.
I looked down at the half-censored article in my lap and the pile of stuff I had scattered around me. It was easier to pretend I was in here getting it on with someone than it was to explain what I was actually searching for.
They had attempted to erase Mason’s history, but the student paper had documented a part of it before the department could completely bury it.
An academic review and a behavioral review. Coaches refusing to comment — well, I had already met their coaches, so that wasn’t a surprise. But an entire paragraph blacked out? I carefully slid the page into my folder.
This was bigger than I thought, and if they’d done this to Mason Sterling, then the deeper question wasn’t what I initially thought, which was, what happened to him?
It was now, how many more names were there?
Because that football program was shady as hell. Those coaches were entitled pricks who thought their shit didn’t stink, or worse, knew it did, but were so fucking arrogant, they didn’t care you could smell it; they expected you not to comment on it.
I zipped my bag, stood up, and switched off the flickering light.
I thought about Mason Sterling. Not the story, the person. A freshman defensive end who showed up on the winter roster as a promising player and disappeared from every record by March. Someone who’d existed and been made to un-exist.
I thought about the girl whose name wasn’t anywhere to be found either.
This story wasn’t dead, and it wasn’t gone. It had just been waiting for someone stubborn enough — reckless enough — to dig it out of the archive room.
And unfortunately for Wrighton U?
That someone was me.
Chapter 15
Dustin
I wasn’t looking for her.
I kept telling myself that as I scanned the practice field again. Everyone was here — offense, defense, trainers, Coach Sutherland in full ‘I will ruin your life’ mode — everyone except the one person who’d spent the last week and a bit orbiting the team like a satellite.
Hadley Peterson. Nowhere to be seen.
Good. Great.Fine.
Except something in my chest wouldn’t settle. I’d been asked about her chasing me, and I’d said she was very forward with her questioning. Not a bad thing, not a good thing. A safe,neutralword to describe her.
And now... she wasn’t here. She was always here. But I shoved it down and grabbed my helmet, heading toward drills. Mike jogged up beside me, his rookie enthusiasm dimmer today, like someone had dialed down his brightness.
“You lost your shadow?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Mike blinked. “Uh... yeah. Kind of.” He looked away, his teeth grinding like he had a problem.
“Kind of?” I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He hesitated — rookie mistake, hesitation was always a tell. “What did you do?” I asked.
“Nothing!” he said quickly. Then, with more edge than I expected, “Shouldn’tIbe the one asking whatyoudid?”
“What? What the fuck does that mean?” I grabbed his arm, pulling him to a stop before he walked past me, completely.
Mike looked down at my hand, and I almost expected him to punch me. Instead, he sighed. “I thought you had somethingto do with it, you know, after this morning, but... she’s, uh... she’s not doing the assignment anymore.”
I didn’t hide my reaction quickly enough; my surprise was evident. “What?”
“The coaches complained, said she was distracting and in the way or something,” he mumbled. “She texted me to tell me her professor pulled her off,” Mike said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I got it before practice. Said she has to find another project.”
