Page 167 of Over the Line

What a game. Wow. Overtime was stressful as hell, but man, what a rush when they won.

As always, I lingered in the box for a while, chatting with some of the spouses. There was always a bit of a lull between the end of the game and when we entered the locker room—had to let the guys do their media availability and get cleaned up, after all. No point in rushing down there, no matter how much I wanted to congratulate Chris and Liam on a hard-earned comeback win.

Eventually, people started filtering out of the box to make their way downstairs. I still hung back since there was no point in rushing out. Liam nearly always ended up doing multiple interviews, and Chris was starting to do more and more media availability as he powered through his incredible rookie season.

As I waited for the right time to meander down, my phone vibrated again. Oh, right, someone had pinged me earlier, hadn’t they? I’d been so caught up in the excitement, I’d forgotten to look. Without thinking much of it, I pulled it out to check the screen.

Nick

I just saw the article! That’s so awesome! Why didn’t you tell us?

Article? Tell him? Tell him what?

But then ice started crackling through my veins.

He didn’t mean…

No. I was jumping the gun. Paranoia, guilty conscience, etc.

Article?

Yeah. Didn’t you see it?

A second later, he sent me a link.

As soon as the headline appeared along with a thumbnail preview, my heart dropped.

And I hurried out of the suite because I needed to get down to the locker room right the fuck now.

CHAPTER 39

LIAM

It was all high fives and fist bumps on the way into the locker room, and now we were happily chirping as we stripped off our gear. Of course, the reporters were waiting for us. I was looking forward to showering off the funk of the game, but answering questions first was part of the job. And at least Jack Arlen was busy annoying one of my other teammates, so I didn’t mind too much.

One of the local reporters asked me a few questions about the game. It was the usual stuff—our forecheck was on point, we needed to do a little more special teams work, and Barns definitely earned a star tonight. All upbeat and fun, just like after any win.

Our team reporter had some similar questions for me. Then Marcus turned to Chris in the next stall. “Hi, Kanes—question for both you and Saints.”

I looked up. Something prickled the length of my spine, but it was probably just habitual paranoia.

Marcus glanced between Chris and me. “How has the relationship between Saints and your dad affected your locker room dynamic?”

My heart stopped.

Chris’s lips parted and his helmet almost tumbled out of his hands. “Relationship?” He cut his eyes toward me, then back to Marcus. “What relationship? What are you talking about?”

Marcus straightened as the color drained from his face. “Oh, but the video—I thought you knew if⁠—”

“Knew about what?” Chris whirled on me. “What the hell is he talking about?”

I put up my hands. “Chris, listen, we⁠—”

“Are you fucking serious?” he roared, loud enough that every hot mic in the building probably caught it.

Panic had my heart beating so fast, I thought it might literally explode. To Marcus, I said, “What are you even talking about?”

The reporter had gone white as a sheet. “The video? Of you talking to the fans? I—Saints, it was posted to⁠—”