by L A Cotton
Another time, another place, I would have replied with some cocky statement about him being all talk and no action. But the stakes had changed. I went after his sister and he’d come after mine, but I hadn’t retaliated then. I’d been biding my time, waiting for the right time to go after him.
But my time was up.
I had to decide.
Fight.
Or flee.
Something Hailee once told me flashed in my mind, and I couldn’t help but think, no matter what I decided, there would be only one loser at the end of this.
Me.
“You should go, Aimee.” Shouldering around her, I headed straight for my car. The sooner we got this over with, the better.
“Jason, don’t do this…” Her cries bounced off the window like rain against glass. Aimee made it sound like I had a choice but running was never a choice, and my mind was already made up.
Grabbing my cell phone, I shot Grady a quick text before firing up the engine and gunning out of the driveway. Aimee’s defeated figure shrank in the rear-view mirror. I’d played in my fair share of dog fights. Football games where players broke the rules and cared more about hurting each other than scoring a touchdown.
As far as I was concerned, this wasn’t any different.
Thatcher wanted my blood?
Fine.
But I’d make him work for it.
It was quiet down at No Man’s Land when we arrived. Grady sat tense beside me, tapping his fingers against his thigh.
“Nervous?” I asked, surveying the stretch of land in front of us. It was right beside the bridge, sheltered by the huge cement pillars. Part of it ran underneath, only accessible when the river ran low. Which wasn’t often. When we were kids, we’d hang out down there, daring each other to try to make it across. Kids doing the kind of shit kids do.
This wasn’t like that though.
This was different.
“What’s the plan?” Grady ignored my original question.
“Plan?” I side-eyed him. “I’m going to beat the shit out of him and send him crawling back across the river with my initials scratched into his fucking skin.”
“Jesus, Cap.” Grady let out a low whistle. “Are you sure we shouldn’t call—”
“The less people involved, the better. If you want to walk, walk. I won’t hold it against you.” I wasn’t scared; I was fucking furious. It burned through me, liquid fire in my veins.
“Fuck that. I’m staying. Just promise me if things get too messy, we’ll leave.”
“Yeah, whatever.” The lie rolled off my tongue. No way was I leaving until Thatcher got the message loud and clear not to mess with me and mine.
“Shall we then?”
We climbed out, the bitter fall wind slamming into us. “Shit, it’s cold.”
“Grow a pair, Grady.” I smirked as I flexed my arms either side of me and took off toward the riverside. Thatcher was waiting but he wasn’t alone.
“Surprised you came,” he drawled.
“I’m a man of my word.”
“Interesting.” He inclined his head, scratching his jaw. “You didn’t come alone.” Thatcher’s hard gaze moved to Grady.
“Neither did you.” My eyes went to the goon at his side.
“Didn’t want to miss you get your ass handed to you, Ford,” Gallen said, stepping up to his teammate.
Anger shot up my spine knowing that he’d put his hands on Felicity.
“Yeah, yeah, are we doing this or what?”
“Oh, we’re doing it. But you really should have brought reinforcements.” His lip twisted as a handful of other Eagles’ players stepped out from the shadows.
“Whoa, this isn’t what was agreed,” Grady said, edging closer to me.
Thatcher shrugged, yanking his hoodie and shirt clean off in one. “Yeah, well, the game just changed.”
My eyes ran over each of them; players I recognized. Players I’d gone head to head with on the field more times than I could count. Players who I knew would do anything for their captain and quarterback.
Even if he was a complete dickwad.
“The difference between me and you?” I said. “I refuse to take my players down with me.”
“The righteous Jason Ford everyone,” Thatcher swept his arm around him, “how fucking poetic.”
Letting out a fake yawn, I glanced at Grady. “Bored yet? I know I am.” Grabbing the hem of my hoodie and jersey, I pulled them off, throwing them down at my teammate’s feet.
Thatcher glanced back at his audience, ready to showboat a little more, but I was done talking. Head down, shoulder cocked, I tackled him to the ground. We landed with a thud, his grunts filling the air while I rammed my fists into his side.
“Motherfucker!” He roared, bucking and thrashing against me. His fist came up hard, crunching into the soft flesh of my neck and I rolled away, momentarily winded.
“Cheap shot, Ford,” he gritted out, clambering to his feet.
Before I could anticipate his next move, two of his teammates wrestled me to my feet, restraining my arms behind my back.
“Hey, hey,” Grady rushed over to us, “that wasn’t—” His head snapped back as Gallen’s fist caught his cheek, and the two of them began going at it.
“Is this how you win?” I seethed, “by playing dirty.”
“No,” Thatcher grinned, “this is how I end your season.” His fists slammed into my ribs. Over and over. Knocking the air clean out my lungs. Pain ricocheting through me. The hands restraining me loosened their grip and I dropped forward onto my knees, my hands breaking my fall.
“What’s the matter, Ford, cat got your tongue?”
Thatcher edged back, giving me space to clamber to my feet. I could already feel the bruising around my ribs, the damaged tissue. But I was used to a little pain, I thrived on it.
Wiping my bloody lip with the back of my hand, I lifted my chin in defiance. “It’ll take a lot more than that to put me down.” I threw all my weight up and forward, our bodies crashing together, bone on bone, skin on skin. Pure hatred on pure hatred.
“You’re a fucking lunatic,” I spat the words at him as he slammed his head into my mine, missing my nose and grazing my jaw. It stung something fierce, but I forced down the pain, locking it away where I’d deal with it later.
I’d had worse. Thatcher could do his worst but there was only one of us walking away from this in one piece, and it wasn’t him.
Felicity
“We have got to find somewhere new to hang out on a Friday night,” Mya grumbled, her eyes running around The Alley.
“Hey, it’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad? Girl, I just watched two man-boys get excited over winning at air hockey. Not sexy.”
“I don’t know.” My shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “I kinda like it.” The Alley was familiar, like your favorite pair of sneakers. The ones you couldn’t bear to throw out no matter how worn and stinky they were.
“One day, I’m going to take you to the city.” Mya’s eyes lit up with promise. “Oh yeah, we could hit a club or two and find us a nice pair of—”
“You guys have got to come see this.” A guy rushed into the diner, breathless and red-faced. “Jason Ford and Lewis Thatcher are down by the river, beating the shit out of each other.”
The room spun, my hands gripping the edge of the counter so tight the blood drained from my fingers.
“Flick, breathe,” Mya’s voice called to me. “Just breathe.” Snapping out of my trance, I met her worried gaze. “It’s probably nothing. You know how rumors fly around here.”
It wasn’t nothing.
I felt it in my bones.
Just then, my cell phone blared to life. “It’s Hailee,” I said, staring at the screen, willing her to tell me it wasn’t true.
“Hails?” her name came out strangled.
“We’re on our way there now but you’re closer.”
“I can’t… I’m not…”
�
�Fee, baby,” Asher came over the line. “How’re you holding up?”
“I don’t… It’s true? He’s down there fighting Thatcher?”
“We’re not too sure what the fuck is happening right now which is why we need you to go down there. Now, Felicity.”
I couldn’t speak, the words lodged up against the giant lump in my throat.
“Asher? It’s Mya. She’s spaced out or something. Yeah, okay. We can do that. Should we call… No, okay. Got it.” She thrust the cell phone back at me.
“We need to leave, now.”
“But—”
“Pull yourself together, your man needs you.”
“He’s not—”
Mya slammed her hands down on the table, leaning over to shove her face in front of mine. “You need to get it together, okay?” I nodded. “Jason can hold his own, but Asher is worried… it doesn’t matter. We need to go stat. You can either stay here and freak out, or you can come with me and hope to God you can talk some sense into him before it’s too late.”
“The play-offs,” I shrieked, leaping to my feet. If Coach or Principal Finnigan found out about this, Jason could be forced to sit out of the play-offs.
Mya rolled her eyes dramatically. “Now she gets it. Come on, we’re wasting time.” She’d rolled up the sleeves on her jacket and pulled her spiral curls into a messy ponytail which made me wonder how often she did this kind of thing for Jermaine.
“Too many times,” she said as if she heard my thoughts. “Now let’s go. Jason needs you.”
I could barely see for the sea of people—Rixon and Rixon East kids—all mingled together, desperate to get a glimpse of Thatcher and Jason, their quarterback Kings going at it.
“What the hell are we supposed to do now?” I asked Mya, clutching onto her hand like it was my lifeline.
“Flick, over here,” Hailee’s voice settled some of the unease swimming in my stomach.
“Thank God,” I all but fell into her arms, taking comfort from her hug. “This is crazy. Hey, how’d you get here before me?”
“Asher drove like a crazy person.” She gave him a scowl. “But we’re here now, and the guys called the cavalry.”
“The cav—” the words died on my tongue as the entire team filtered in behind Asher and Cameron.
“We need to disperse this crowd,” Cam said, his brows pinched with concern. “Any suggestions?”
“Leave it to me,” Asher said, grabbing a couple of the guys and whispering in their ears. Soon they had disappeared into the crowd.
“Come on,” Cam grabbed Hailee’s hand and motioned for us to follow. We had to push and shove our way through the wall of bodies, but when I finally saw Jason, I froze. The sight of him shirtless and bloody was sensory overload.
“Flick?” Mya yelled over the noise: the grunts and groans from the two fighters in the middle of the crudely formed ring, the bloodthirsty cheers from our classmates. “Hold it together,” she scolded, yanking on my arm, jerking me into action. “He’s okay, see? You need to really worry when—”
Thatcher got in a good hit, the crack of bone on bone reverberating through me so violently, my stomach lurched, bile rushing up my throat. I swallowed, dragging in a lungful of fresh air. “Someone has to do something.”
“We are, if you’ll just keep moving.”
“Thank fuck,” Grady rushed over to us, sporting a black eye of his own.
Cam shook his head at his teammate, disapproval written all over his expression. “Save the lecture, man, I’m fully aware of what a clusterfuck this is,” Grady winced.
“I’ll deal with you later,” Cameron seethed. “Right now, we need to figure out how to end this.”
“I’ve tried, twice. This is the thanks I got.” He pointed to the ugly bruise forming around his eye.
“Okay, go find Asher and help with the crowd. We’ve got this.”
We did?
Because my legs felt ready to give out on me as I clung to Mya.
“Okay,” Asher reappeared, breathless and flushed. “I’m here, what’s the plan?”
“I’m thinking you two should get in there before you lose your quarterback for the play-offs,” Mya deadpanned.
“Man, I love a woman who tells it like it is.” Ash grinned at her. “Yo, Thatcher,” he sauntered toward them, “Having all the fun without me?”
“Fuck off, Bennet, this is between me and Ford.” Thatcher wasn’t unscathed, blood trickling from a cut in his lip, another under his eye. He also had a nasty bruise ripening around his ribs.
“Sorry, bro, but we kind of need our QB for the play-offs; you know, the ones you didn’t make this year.”
“What the hell is he doing?” Mya lurched forward but Cam cut her off with his arm.
“He’s got this.”
“The hell he does, look…” She flicked her head to where a couple of Eagles’ players were closing in on him.
“Fuck, okay, you three stay here.”
“Cam,” Hailee said, “I’m not sure this is a good idea. Maybe we should call the police?”
“If it comes to that, we will, I promise. But for now, just stay here.” He levelled her with a look I rarely saw from him.
“That boy has more restraint than me,” Mya remarked.
“That’s what I’m worried about.” Hailee reached back for my hand and we stood there, the three of us, watching while the guys we cared about faced off with Thatcher and his bunch of goons.
“Whatever Asher did, it worked. Look, people are leaving.”
We glanced back to find the crowd slowly dispersing, being herded away by the remaining Raiders.
“It’s over, Thatcher,” Cameron stepped between him and Jason.
“You think just because you showed up with your girl in tow that it’s over? It’s over when I say it’s fucking over.” He was incensed, anger rolling off him like a tidal wave. “In fact, since she’s here,” his eyes found Hailee, “why don’t you come over here and experience what it feels like to be with a real ma—”
Cameron’s fist drove straight into his face. Thatcher grunted in pain, staggering back, but he quickly righted himself, spitting blood onto the ground. “So you do have balls, Chase? I was beginning to think you didn’t after you let me and the guys mess with your girl time and time again.”
“Cameron, don’t.” Hailee tore her hand free, moving toward them, but before she got there, Grady appeared and scooped her up, bringing her back to us.
“Stay out of this, Hailee, trust me.”
“Aw, you don’t want to play? What about your girl, Ford, does she like to play? It sure looked like it from the—”
“Thatcher,” Jason’s tone was icy cold.
A chill ran up my spine watching them. There was so much anger and hatred between them, I knew I was missing some of the pieces of the puzzle.
“Lewis, stop,” a girl’s voice shattered the tension.
“Aimee, I thought I told you to stay the fuck out of this?”
Her dark hair whipped around her as she ran toward them, putting herself in front of Jason as if she was shielding him.
“Hailee,” I asked, the knot in my stomach tightening, “who is that?”
“I think that’s Aimee.”
“Aimee?”
“Yeah, Thatcher’s sister, Jason’s ex.”
Jason had an ex?
I had vague lust-haze filled memories of him mentioning a girl, but he hadn’t gone into detail. She hadn’t even been a blip on my radar, but now she was there; a real-life person. And she was standing in front of Jason like he was hers to protect.
“Oh, shit, Flick, I didn’t…” Hailee’s voice became white noise as I watched the unfamiliar girl face off with her brother. She hadn’t frozen on the side lines or stood by and watched; she’d run straight into the fray.
To protect Jason.
But why would she do that? Unless…
“Hey, you don’t know anything yet, so stop thinking whatever you’re thinking ri
ght now.” Mya nudged my arm, giving me her trademark death stare.
“I’m not leaving until you walk away, Lewis. This has gone too far. Jason only did what he did because he was hurt.”
“You think I give a shit about that? He sent that video to—”
“Hurt me. Me, Lewis. If anyone should be standing here demanding revenge, it’s me.” Aimee’s expression turned sad. “Look, I know you only want to protect me, to get back at him, but this is his future.”
Thatcher’s jaw clenched, his eyes burning with hatred for the guy I realized I knew nothing about. Not really. I thought he’d let me in, let me see a side of him no one else got to see, but Jason was a locked box.
Maybe he always would be.
Tears burned the backs of my eyes as I slowly began to edge away from my friends.
“Felicity, where the hell are you going?” Mya hissed, trying to reach for me, but I shrugged her off.
“I can’t be here.” I couldn’t see Jason’s past play out right in front of my eyes. It hurt too much to see their history.
To feel it.
“Don’t run, not now. Not when he needs you.”
“Jason doesn’t need me, Mya.” I smiled sadly, letting the tears fall freely now. “He never did.”
Without a second glance, I walked away. Ignoring her calls, Hailee’s too. Blocking out the sound of Aimee’s voice as she tried to reason with Thatcher. The low rumble of whispers as the Raiders and Eagles stood guard.
But most of all, I ignored the sound of my heart breaking.
Jason
“This isn’t over,” Thatcher spat as he finally relented, letting Aimee slip her arm around his waist and lead him away. She glanced back, her eyes saying things I didn’t want to hear.
Cam and Ash were on me in a second, helping me stay upright as they guided me over to our friends and teammates.
“Fuck, man, you’re a mess,” he released a shaky breath. “You need the ER?” I threw Grady a ‘fuck you’ expression, and his hands went up. “Is it too early to say, ‘told you so’?”
“Grady?” I hacked up a mouthful of blood, leaning on Ash for support. My ribs burned like a motherfucker and I wasn’t one-hundred percent sure Thatcher hadn’t broken something.