Games We Play (Thistle Cove 2)

“I’m good, Coach. Everything is going well.”

I hear Coach’s chair creak. “I heard from Ezra Baxter—senior. He told me about catching the Keene girl and Ezra together the other night in a very compromising position.”

“Excuse me?” Finn’s voice is even—restrained.

“I know you’ve been seeing her. I’m assuming it’s not exclusive?”

“Uh, I’m not sure why we’re talking about this? Now?”

“Because this is a test, Holloway. Do you have the mettle to push aside your emotions and focus on the biggest damn game of your life? Because petty bullshit will derail your focus. It’s also the kind of fuel you may need to focus everything on a win. Football is your life, Holloway. Your future. Girls…well they’re good for a release, but after the Waller girl…you should realize that it’s better not to get attached. This Kenley Keene isn’t any different. She’s not loyal. She’s not committed. She doesn’t understand your drive or determination. Your sacrifice. She’s looking for a popular guy and now that Ezra’s on the team, and doing well, it’s obvious she’ll spread her legs for anyone.”

My blood boils under my skin, dark anger pumping through my veins. He’s one word short of calling Kenley a whore. I fight the urge to barge into the room and tell him the fuck off.

I don’t need to. Finn’s got me beat.

“With all due respect, Coach Chandler, I’d rather not discuss my dating life with you, particularly right before the biggest game of my life, but I’ll tell you something,” his tone hard, “you don’t know anything about Kenley Keene, and you sure as hell will never talk about her in a disrespectful way again or I’ll focus my drive and determination into kicking your ass.”

“Holloway—”

“No,” he says, voice lowering, “I know about you and Rose. You destroyed her, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you do the same to another girl I care about.”

He walks out, jaw tight, eyes cutting my way.

“Did you hear that?” he asks, walking down the hall and out the back door. It slams behind us.

“Yeah, all of it.”

“Fucking dick.”

“He’s stirring up shit,” I say.

“Or,” he replies, running his hand through his hair, “Kenley’s already stirred it first.”

Finn’s right. What Chandler just said wasn’t a first shot. It was a defensive move. Trying to get ahead of the game. It was desperate, vile, and most of all, he showed his hand. Kenley’s onto something, and he knows it.

“We need to talk to her after the game,” he says. “Because if he really did something to Rose? To Jacqueline? He could hurt her.”

“After the game, we put a stop to this. Go to McMichael. Or my dad.”

Finn holds out his fist, and I punch it with my own.

No matter what happens at the end of the night, win or lose, everything at Thistle Cove High is about to change.

33

Kenley

The stands are packed—both Thistle Cove and Brookside came out in force to support their teams. The charge of energy is palpable. The players are nervous on the sidelines, the cheerleaders frantic. The bands compete from opposites sides of the field; the sound of drumbeats and horns clashing. I wrap my hand around Ozzy’s both for warmth and to steady my nerves. I know this is a big deal to my boys.

There’s no sneaking under the bleachers tonight—we’re both focused on the game. At the start of the fourth quarter, we’re up by six. Definitely not enough of a lead.

I watch for number fourteen, Finn, in the middle of the pack. He’s focused. Determined. I felt it in his kiss. He wants this bad, and I want it for him.

And Ezra? Number seventeen. He’s a little different. He’s out there proving himself after three years of messing around. His dad, Coach Chandler, the team, but most of all he needs to prove to himself that he can do something and do it right. He adjusts his helmet and bends, getting into position. Finn calls the play, the ball snaps, and everyone scatters.

I tighten my grip on Ozzy’s hand, feeling the cool silver of his ring pushing into my skin.

Brookside is fast, and our guys are having a hard time keeping Finn in the clear. The good news is that he’s faster, which means he makes his passes, but more than once he’s tackled seconds after the ball leaves his hands and slammed to the ground.