Page 59 of The Linebacker

He glanced around, noted that Diana wasn’t in the room and that Jalen had an empty seat next to him.

He sat down, but Jalen grunted and did not instigate conversation. Amil didn’t let it get to him; hell, no one at the table was speaking. Just tucking into their meals like it was their last or something.

Pre-game jitters. He got it. Like he told Diana, he got nervous before every single game. It hadn’t yet hit for this one, but that was because he couldn’t turn off the constant replay of what happened last night. It would hit soon, he was sure of it.

The first real indication that something wasn’t right was when the guys got up from the table and left—all without saying a word. Not “see you on the bus” or “heading upstairs, meet you out there” or even, “hey, good morning, sleep well?”

When it was just he and Jalen left, Amil turned to him to ask what the hell was going on, but Jalen abruptly stood, muttered, “Tool,” and stalked out of the room.

What. The. Hell?

When he stepped onto the bus, like a scene from name-that-drama involving kids and bullying on the school bus, every player dropped a backpack or bag of some sort onto the seat next to him.

Message received.

Amil was the odd guy out.

Again.

What the hell changed since dinner last night?

What the?—

Shit.

Diana.

Someone had seen her leave his room last night. Whoever it was, they’d obviously told the entire team, and now the guys hated him.

The worst part?

He didn’t even get laid. He fucking sent her away, turned her down.

Okay, no, that wasn’t the worst part. Yeah, he was being petty in his own head.

But—damn it.

The message was loud and clear. He fucked up.

He lowered himself onto the last seat on the bus, dropped his head against the cushion, and closed his eyes.

The seat shifted, and he cracked one eye, blinked them both open. Royce sat next to him, not looking at him, pretending like there was nothing weird about him coming all the way back here when the rest of the team was shunning him.

“I had a pretty shitty home life growing up,” Royce said after the bus lurched forward and turned out of the hotel parking lot.

Amil didn’t say anything. He had not a clue where Royce was heading with that statement.

“I reacted to my homelife by being a raging asshole to pretty much every single person around me,” he went on. “As a result, everyone assumed the worst about me. Well, I suppose they were right. I was an asshole. But no one ever tried to dig deeper, to figure out why. That didn’t happen until Coach Gentry recruited me.”

Amil arched his brows, waiting for him to go on.

“He saw something in me that no one else saw. Hell, I didn’t even see it myself. And look where I am today.” He nodded succinctly.

“I am not seeing whatever dots you are trying to connect.”

Royce tapped his shoulder. “Tell me, what did you think of that story?”

“I mean, it wasn’t exactly loaded with detail, but I got the gist. That you succeeded in life despite your rough beginnings.”