Chapter 60 CHAPTER 60
CHAPTER 60
KNOX
I got to the field house early, like always. The turf was still damp from the morning dew, floodlights buzzing overhead, the air crisp enough to bite. Football practice wasn’t for another hour, but I needed to be out here. Needed to run drills, hit the sled, burn off the rage that had been simmering since I heard those two sophomores talking about Yael in the locker room yesterday. My knuckles were still sore from the wall I’d punched after they ran off apologizing.
I was running receiver routes by myself, cutting hard, catching every ball from the machine, when the doors slammed open.
Aaron.
He strolled in late, shoulder pads already on, helmet dangling from his fingers. Fresh bruises painted his face—purple along his jaw, a cut above his eyebrow scabbed over. Looked like he’d gone ten rounds with someone who hated him as much as I did.
He didn’t acknowledge me. Just dropped his bag and started stretching on the opposite end of the field.
Coach blew the whistle eventually. We lined up for warm-ups, then seven-on-seven drills. Of course, because the football gods have a sick sense of humor, Coach put me at wideout and Aaron covering me.
First snap.
I ran a slant, blew past him clean. Ball hit my hands perfect.
Second snap.
Post route. He jammed me at the line, handsy as hell, but I still created separation. Touchdown.
Third snap.
He was late on everything. Slow reads, sloppy feet, eyes somewhere else entirely.
Coach yelled from the sideline. “Aaron! Wake the hell up! You’re getting torched out there!”
Aaron’s jaw tightened. He skated back to the huddle without a word.
I couldn’t let it go.
“Hey,” I called as we reset. “You gonna play or just sightsee?”
His head snapped toward me. “Mind your business, Hale.”
“It is my business when you’re making the whole defense look like shit,” I shot back. “Focus or get off the field.”
“Keep running your mouth,” he growled, stepping closer. “See where it gets you.”
“Anytime,” I said, voice low and even. “You look like you already took a beating. Want another?”
His eyes flashed pure hate. Gloves flexed. We were nose to nose, helmets almost touching.
“Say that again,” he snarled.
“You heard me.”
Coach’s whistle screamed. “Hale! Aaron! Knock it off or you’re both running gassers till you puke!”
Aaron shoved me first—hard shoulder check. I shoved back, harder.
For a second, the whole field went quiet. Everyone waiting to see if gloves were coming off.
Yael’s voice cut through my head. No more violence. Please.
I stepped back, breathing fire, and turned away. Skated to the sideline and straight into the locker room.
I ripped off my helmet, slammed it into my locker hard enough to dent the metal. Paced like a caged animal.
Then I heard them.
Two sophomore linebackers—Carter and Diaz—laughing in the showers.
“…bet fifty Yael lets someone hit before spring break,” Carter was saying. “Body like that? Won’t last.”
Diaz snorted. “Hundred says I get first taste. Yael’s fine as hell.”
Carter laughed. “Dream on. I’m calling dibs.”
I saw red. Actual fucking red.
I stormed in. They were in towels, backs to me, still chuckling like idiots.
I grabbed Carter by the throat and slammed him into the tile so hard the breath whooshed out of him.
“What the fuck did you just say about her?” My voice was quiet. Deadly.
His eyes bugged out. “Knox—bro—wait—it was just talk—”
I slammed him again. “Say her name again.”
Diaz tried to back away. I shot my free hand out, fisted his towel, yanked him close.
“You too,” I snarled. “You think you get to talk about Yael like she’s some prize? Like either of you could even look at her without me breaking your fucking necks?”
“We’re sorry!” Carter choked out, hands scrabbling at my wrist. “It was just joking—stupid joke—”
“Not a joke,” I said, lifting him an inch off the ground. “You disrespect her again, and I’ll make sure you never play another down. You feel me?”
“Yes—yes—sorry—please—”
Diaz was shaking. “We didn’t mean it, Knox. Swear to God.”
I dropped Carter. He crumpled, coughing. Diaz stumbled back into the wall.
“Get the fuck out of my sight,” I said. “And if I hear her name come out of either of your mouths again, you’re done.”
They scrambled past me, towels slipping, apologizing over and over like broken records.
“Sorry, man—won’t happen again—promise—”
I didn’t answer. Just stood there until they were gone.
The door creaked open again.
Aaron.
He took one look at me—chest heaving, fists clenched—and stopped.
We stared at each other. Hate thick in the air.
He didn’t say anything about the sophomores running out half-naked. I didn’t say anything about his bruises.
Finally, I spoke.
“If you’re not gonna focus out there,” I said, voice ice cold, “do us all a favor and leave. We don’t need dead weight.”
His face twisted. “You don’t tell me what to do, Hale.”
“I just did.”
He stepped closer, fists balled. “One day, Knox. One day you’re gonna push too far.”
I didn’t back up. “Looking forward to it.”
He looked like he wanted to swing. Badly.
Instead, he grabbed his bag.
I turned away first.
He shoved past me hard on his way out, shoulder slamming into mine.
I let him.
Door slammed.
I stood there alone, heart pounding, rage still boiling.
No one was going to touch her.
No one was going to talk abou
t her.
Not Aaron. Not those sophomores. Not anyone.
Yael was mine.
And I’d burn the whole fucking world down before I let anyone forget it…