Hunter brings his hand to his forehead and cracks out a fast and hard salute. “Yes sir, no sir. Thank you, sir,” he barks, then drops onto his front and begins to push out military speed pushups.
“He knows his place,” Gordon says, grinning through gritted teeth.
“And where’s that? Beneath you,” Cox says, swaggering as he walks past. He’s big. At least as big as Gordon, maybe bigger. This dude must play defense because there is no way there is much quick speed in his hulking body.
“Fuck off, Cox,” Hunter hisses.
“You showing off to your girlfriend?” Cox sniggers.
“That’s their sister, dude,” Cox’s friend says.
“Sister? I didn’t think you fuckers had a sister. I thought it was all a big bromance over at your house. Pretending to be brothers to cover up the fact that you’re all in one big-loving butt-fucking relationship.”
His friend holds his hand up, and they high-five like the juvenile idiots they are.
I want to put myself between these assholes and my foster brothers to stop anything bad from happening, but it isn’t my place. There is history here that I haven’t been a part of, and I know how bad things can get when I run my mouth. Coming between these teammates and making things worse than they already are isn’t going to help my boys, especially just before a game.
My boys. Did I really just think that?
“Move on,” Reggie says, interrupting his workout to sit up. I guess he can feel the tension rising. Out of all these guys, I trust Reggie to keep his cool. His laid-back and fun attitude is just what’s needed to defuse the current rising anger.
“Ah, your girlfriend is getting involved now, Gordon. Does he like it when you fuck his ass?”
Gordon is a bulky guy, but he’s off his back and on his feet in the blink of an eye. He’s so fast, I’m momentarily stunned until Reggie and Hunter are trying to get in front of him. Cox draws up to his full height, all six foot five or so of meathead. Gordon isn’t far off his size, but two inches looks like a lot when there’s anger involved. The size difference doesn’t seem to be a factor that Gordon is taking into consideration, though. The way he’s lurching forward with fists balled tells me he’s willing to go as far as it’ll take to get this idiot to shut the fuck up about his family.
“Don’t!” Hunter shouts, his hand thudding into Gordon’s chest so hard it echoes around the gym. His arm flexes as he uses it to stop his brother from getting any closer, but Cox’s friend isn’t doing anything on that side. Instead, Cox steps closer, drawing himself up, so he’s staring at Gordon down his flaring nose.
“Ah, your girlfriends don’t want you to get your pretty face all bashed in?” Cox flexes his fingers into fists a few times, and that’s it. I’m not waiting to see any more. I’m not letting something disastrous happen when the boys are so close to the end of their college football careers. I’m up and in between them before I really have a chance to think about the risks. There’s a sharp intake of breath from my foster brothers and across the gym, time seems to slow, and noise seems to dull. In my head, there is only the screech of white noise rage and the bubble of angry words. Who the fuck does this guy think he is?
“YOU NEED TO BACK THE FUCK UP!” I shout, getting as close to the brute as I possibly can. A hand grasps my wrist and tugs me back, but not before my pointed finger prods Cox in the chest. “YOU’RE A FUCKING BIG-MOUTHED PIECE OF SHIT. NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR PATHETIC MOM JOKES OR YOUR HOMOPHOBIC ACCUSATIONS.”
Cox grins, his mouth curving in a way that says nothing about real amusement and more about a surge of power and cruelty. “Eleven men, and you want to get your tiny little sister to fight your corner.”
Before I can respond, Gordon has pushed me behind him and shoved Cox in the chest. Cox stumbles back but only momentarily, righting himself like the athlete that he is. Reggie and Hunter grab Gordon and try to push him back while Harley and Cox’s smug friend push against Cox’s huge chest.
Cox looks downright smug.
“You just got yourself benched again,” he says, and then laughs so hard he folds over, resting his shovel hands on his thighs.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say, grabbing Gordon’s wrist and pulling. I expect him to resist. I expect him to want to get his hands on Cox and pulverize him, but he doesn’t. He comes with me as though the force of the shove to the other man’s chest has momentarily stunned him. We’re out in the lot before he seems to come around and resists going any further. “That fucker,” he hisses, nostrils flaring with disgust.