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“Coach does. So I think that makes it official.”
I’d seen Jefferson in competitions, in finals. Moments when success - for him, and for all of us - rested on his shoulders alone. Marveled at his calm, and his poise, and the cool, analytical way he assessed, and dissected, and won.
Right now, the senior looked like he was about to erupt with fury. Like a propane tank tossed into a bonfire.
“And that’s it. You weren’t going to fight it, you weren’t going to talk to us about it? You were just going to leave, run away, like we meant nothing?”
It was too much, all too much. The last few threads, the ones I’d been holding on by, finally snapping; the shell of shocked, frightened numbness I’d trapped my horror, and self-disgust, and all round disappointment in, cracking open from top to bottom. And all the rage, and self-pity, and utter dismay came pouring out, like lava from a once-stoppered volcano.
“You mean everything! Everything!” My voice broken and raw, the words barely escaping past a lump in my throat as big as my fist. “And I let you down; you mean everything and I still let you down. I fucked up, and risked the team’s reputation, and everyone here knows it. Coach was right to kick me out.”
“Coach was wrong, and he knows it!” Jefferson’s finger stabbing out, sharp as a dagger, to punctuate the denial.
“Try telling him that,” I said, sourly.
“We already did, lil bro.” Carlos’ voice controlled, level.
“W-what?”
Visibly seething, Jefferson seemed willing to let his teammate explain.
“We spoke to Coach. Not long after he sent a message out, that...” Carlos’ voice trailed off. “Well, not long after we found out what he’d done.”
“Coach never changes his mind,” I said, little more than a whisper. “Arguing only make him more stubborn. Every single one of you told me that.”
Carlos shrugged, like that could indeed be absolute fact, only the exact opposite could be the truth, too. “And yet we went to him, as a team, and told him he was wrong. That our lil bro was, and is, and will always be our lil bro; that you do not leave a brother behind.”
“He won’t listen.” I looked between them, the confusion close to drowning me. “He won’t even listen to that argument.”
“It wasn’t an argument,” Jefferson said, with finality. “It was an ultimatum.”
I gaped at him, lost for words.
“You really thought we’d let you go?”
And the dam broke, and the tears started in earnest.
Chapter Twenty-Five
It should’ve been embarrassing, to cry in front of the people you respect most in the whole fucking world. Only as Brayden drew me in close to him, and Carlos shifted to sandwich me on the opposite side, all I could think about was how incredibly safe I felt. That they could see me - cheeks wet, nose running, and practically hiccuping with sobs - and still think of me as someone special, as their brother.
“I’m sorry, Eoin.” Brayden wiped away the tears with his thumb, or at least tried to. My face was already a mess. “I know you were doing all this because of me.”
“You told me not to,” I reminded him, through my sniffles.
“Yeah, I did,” he conceded. “But even so I didn’t think you’d... that there’d be people so fucked up as to...” He grunted frustration, words failing him. “When I’m back on my feet, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him.”
It didn’t take a genius to figure out he was talking about Harvey. Or, frankly, to see how furious my teammate was, the mood seemingly escalating as he considered what’d happened in that private room.
“Brayden.” Jefferson’s voice cutting through the rising tension, as unmistakable as granite.
Brayden flashed him an angry look. “You know what he did!”
Jefferson folded his arms across his chest. Calm, at least at first glance, though I couldn’t help but remember the glimpses of outrage I could recall from the club. My memory untrustworthy, recollection of that night patchy at best, and yet Jefferson carved through it like a hot knife. Terrifying and radiant.
“It’s been handled,” the senior said, crisply.
For a moment I thought Brayden wouldn’t be able to leave it at that. The vague assurance insufficient, ill-matched to the scale of his anger.
