Follow the River (River of Rain Book 1) Page 14

  And that would be very, very bad. Because this damn hand is my ticket to tuition free college. Which is extremely helpful if I’m going to be in school long enough to get a doctorate in physical therapy.

  Buuuuuuuuut that doesn’t mean I have to keep my mouth shut.

  “Well why don’t you?” I taunt, raising my arms out to my side to offer myself up to him. “I fucking dare you.”

  Ciaráin takes a step towards me, his eyes narrowed into slits like a snake ready to strike. And I try really, really hard not to notice how the knot in the towel around his waist slips slightly with the movement, revealing more of that tattoo inscribed on his hip.

  A tattoo that I’ve licked and sucked like it was my own personal piece of candy.

  You’ve licked and sucked a lot more than just his fucking tattoo, you idiot. That’s why you’re in this mess in the first place.

  “You don’t think I will?” he asks, stalking closer and closer until he’s right in front of me, his face less than a foot from mine. I can feel the heat radiating off his bare chest, seeping into me through my shirt.

  And I hate it.

  That his proximity does this weird thing to my body and I can’t seem to get a hold on long enough to fight it.

  My eyes meet his, hard and determined, and I smirk. “No, I think you will. I want you to, in fact. Do it again. Please. So Coach has no choice but to suspend you from the team. Or better yet, kick you off entirely because I sure as fuck have no interest in playing ball with you ever again. Especially for the shit show you put on out there.” I look him up and down, purposely pausing on his cock for a moment too long before meeting his glare once more. “Fucking Heisman worthy, my ass.”

  His hand is around my throat a second later, his face only inches from mine as he sneers at me with malice. “Maybe I’ll just fucking kill you instead. Snap the golden boy’s pretty little neck like I promised in that classroom. Because my world will sure as fuck be a much better place without you in it.”

  Fighting fire with fire, I lean forward, bringing my lips a millimeter from his. The grip he has around my throat becomes more constricting as I bite out my response.

  “Do it.”

  The words, less than a whisper, float off my lips and onto his, making him shudder at the contact.

  A snarl works its way out of his throat and it's the most animalistic sound I’ve ever heard come from a human. But it’s quickly cut off when we’re interrupted by a door being slammed open followed by both of our names being shouted.

  Coach.

  “In my office, right now!” he shouts, snapping us out of the stand-off we were in the midst of.

  Rain releases his hold on me, stepping away and heading back to the locker room to get dressed while I stare after him. The rage still bubbling under the surface is begging me to go after him and giving him a taste of his own medicine, but I tamp it down. Just barely.

  Instead, I head down the hallway to Coach Scott’s office, stepping inside only a minute before Ciaráin does, now dressed similarly to me.

  “Shut the door and have a seat,” Coach bites out, barely sparing us as glance after we enter. And I know immediately, this is going to be fucking bad.

  I’ve seen Graham Scott mad once in all the years I’ve known him. Which is since I was born.

  And this…I can tell it’s about to be time number two.

  Ciaráin and I both take a seat, not looking at each other while we wait for Coach to ream us a new asshole.

  But he doesn’t. He simply takes a seat behind his desk, resting his elbows on the wood with his chin on his joined knuckles.

  And he stares at us for an uncomfortable amount of time. So long I’m ready to start squirming in my seat under his penetrating gaze.

  “In the game of football,” he starts with a sigh, rubbing his temple with an index finger, “we win as a team and we lose as a team. That is something I’ve ground into the minds of every player I’ve ever coached because it’s what was instilled in me since I learned how to play the game. Everyone is held accountable, regardless if you set foot on the field during the game or not. We are in it together.”

  I know this. I’ve seen it and experienced it. Even as a kid, it was something he always taught the twins, Taylor and me. And it’s a motto I’ve played this game with from the time I was able to throw my first completed pass.

  “But tonight? The loss we just suffered?” he continues, his gaze drifting between us before he shakes his head. “I can’t let those guys out there be held accountable for that. How can I when it’s the two of you who gave the other team the win the moment you decided whatever bullshit is happening between you is more important than the team.”

  Coach rolls his teeth over his lip, clearly trying to keep a more cool and collected tone with us because how can he lecture the two of us about keeping our heads when he can’t practice what he preaches?

  His gaze lands on Ciaráin for a moment, pinning him in place. “I know Coach Donaldson from Clemson well. He spoke highly of you, which is why the second your transfer came over my desk, I jumped at the opportunity to get you on the team.” Tapping his finger on his chin, he exhales. “Your talent knows no bounds and you could go places if you chose, Ciaráin. But your attitude? The chip on your shoulder? Combined with that temper of yours, it will get you into some seriously deep shit.”

  His eyes leave Ciaráin and land on me, causing my heart to stop in my chest.

  Because in those eyes, I see it. The one word I fear most coming from the man I’ve idolized for most of my life.

  Disappointment.

  “And you,” he sighs, pinning me with a frustrated stare. “I’ve known you since you were a child. Helped raise you with my own son. You are a son to me, for all intents and purposes. So I know for a fact you were taught better than this. This is not the quarterback, nor the person, I know you to be.” He pauses again, rubbing his hand over his face. “Disappointed doesn’t even begin to cover how I’m feeling right now.”

  And there it fucking is. Goddamnit.

  My heart seizes in my chest and if I’m being honest, I’d rather him be screaming at us and telling me I’m doing suicides for an hour every day for the rest of the time I play for him at CU.

  I’d rather have him do anything other than say that one word. Kick me off the team, even.

  “First that stunt in practice and now this?” he grumbles, tossing his hat on the desk. “I have no idea what to do when it comes to the two of you. Not a damn clue. It’s not like I can leave you trapped on an island or ship you off to couple’s therapy to work out your crap.”

  Oh, Coach, don’t make me laugh at the irony behind that last statement.

  Coach is silent again, his eyes slipping back and forth between the two of us as he works out our punishment in his mind. From what I’ve gathered, we lost the game which means our season is officially over in a game playing capacity. He could carry a suspension over into the next season, maybe.

  I honestly don’t know.

  He taps his hand on the desk after what must be an eternity, finally coming to a decision he’s comfortable with.

  “You know, maybe you two do need to…get away. Figure out a way to work your shit out in a more…therapeutic environment.” His hard glare dances between us as he speaks the words that damn near stop my fucking heart. “Lucky for the both of you, I know just the place.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  I’ve never been this irate in my life. Even when I was told I’d have to spend the next five weeks of winter break at a “getaway” with River. Because for some insane reason, I thought Coach might be sending us to the damn beach or something.

  Instead, I find myself sitting in Coach’s truck, glaring out the front window at a motherfucking cabin.

  In the woods.

  In the mountains.

  In the middle of nowhere.

  I might as well be in a fucking horror movie. At this point, that might be preferable
.

  “Not at all, son. Now come on, let’s get you boys situated so I can show you how things run around here.”

  After climbing out of Coach’s truck, I follow him and River up the deck steps, taking in the cabin. Sure, it’s nice. An A-frame style with a hammock stand on one side of the deck, sans hammock and one of those moveable fire pits and patio furniture on the other, sans cushions.

  There’s also a good eighteen inches of snow on the deck and ground, which is just fucking awesome.

  Walking through the side door, I take in the massive open floor plan of the cabin. I’m surprised at how large it is, the gourmet kitchen with a large island and bar stools on the left, a small dining room table set up just beyond that. Directly to my right is a sunken living room with a huge fireplace on the side wall with the entire front one full from floor to ceiling with glass windows looking out of the cabin at the stream flowing beyond it.

  The place is stunning, I’ll give it to Coach.

  Glancing to my left I notice a hallway running down the back of the house, probably where the bedrooms are. I start heading down the hall to grab a room before River can because, yeah I’m that level of petty and pissed off right now, when I hear Coach continuing to chatter at River.

  “River, you know where everything is. Nothing has changed much since you’ve been here last. There’s plenty of wood stocked up in here, but the shed key, along with the ATV key, is hanging by the door. Just remember…”

  His voice fades off in the distance as I make my way down the hall. The cabin is much larger than it seems from the outside, seeing as there are a ton of doors to choose from down the hallway. Five in total, two on each side and one at the very end.

  Assuming the very end is the master suite, I head straight back and to the right, opening it to find a bedroom with a queen mattress, a dresser and desk. Nothing too fancy, but there is a lot of open floor space which is perfect for what I have planned.

  Which is to avoid the fact that I’m stuck here with my nemesis who, for some reason, can’t take the hint I’m not interested in getting into his pants. Because I’m not fucking gay.

  And the one way I can think of doing that?

  Art.

  That will be the only thing keeping me sane while I’m here. It’s why I have five cases filled with my supplies under the cover on Coach’s truck bed. It’s the only form of escape away from this nightmare that’s become my reality.

  Because yeah, if I thought spending a single night on an away game in the same hotel room with River was bad, five weeks under the same roof alone is bound to be detrimental to my mental health.

  And more than likely his physical well-being if he keeps being a fucking idiot.

  “Grady, get out here!” Coach yells from down the hall.

  Sliding my duffle from my shoulder, I toss it on the bed and head back out to face the music.

  “Yes, sir?” I ask when I’m met with his authoritative gaze.

  A piece of me really wishes I didn’t respect him as much as I do. It would make it so much easier to just cut my losses and leave the team or even the school to prevent this prison sentence from actually being carried out.

  “River has been here plenty of times, so if you have any questions, please ask him for help.”

  I roll my eyes and scoff. Of course the dickface has been here before.

  I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve heard both Drew and Elliott tell stories about their group of five, all the shit they’d get into with Taylor and a kid named Asher.

  And of course, River. The fucking kiss ass.

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous as hell.

  That kind of mischief was something I never got to do growing up. Without Siena and Roman, I probably would have lost my mind or cut off my ear like goddamn Van Gogh before the age of twelve.

  But we never got to explore the mountains, spend time in the woods, do the things kids should do. We didn’t get into trouble, cause chaos or disorder. They were always expected to be prim and proper, as was I, being who we were.

  High class. Children of powerful men.

  Perfect little dolls, only meant to be seen and not heard.

  Fuckin’ bullshit.

  Coach gives me a stern look before continuing. “Everything you need is here, save for maybe a grocery run or two for things like milk and whatever perishable foods you boys might need. But I made sure the fridge and pantry is fully stocked for at least the first two weeks of your stay. You’ll be able to take the ATV into town if or when you need anything else.”

  I just nod, attempting to accept that I am indeed being exiled to this mountain home for five. Fucking. Weeks.

  He gives me a sympathetic smile before patting me on the shoulder. “It won’t be that bad. Trust me, there are worse things than getting away to get your head back on your shoulders. The two of you make an excellent team when you aren’t at each other’s throats. You need this, if not for the team’s benefit next season, then for your own personal growth.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, you boys can’t go punching someone when you have a disagreement. On or off the field.”

  I know this, I promise I do. It’s common sense, really. But I swear, River makes me do some stupid shit when he opens that fucking mouth of his.

  There are times I think I would do anything - literally anything - to shut his goddamn mouth. Punching him out in the middle of a game seemed like the right route to go at the time.

  Still, I can't say I regret it.

  “C’mon, let’s get those boxes you brought loaded in here before I take off,” he says, motioning to the side door.

  Once the truck is completely unloaded of all the shit we brought to last us the next five weeks, Coach heads back out to his truck to leave with the two of us in tow to see him off.

  And I’m this close to begging him to take me back with him and telling him to kick me off the team instead. But then I think of my dad, his love for the sport, and I can’t fucking do it.

  I have to see this through, if only for him

  I’m just grateful River has seemingly been on his best behavior since we’ve arrived, barely speaking a word unless it was in conversation with Coach Scott.

  “I think you’re about set for me to take off. The landline works if your cell service is shit, but I’d suggest you use this time to reflect on why you’re here. Don’t spend your time on your phones or in front of the television. Get to know each other. Find shit in common with the other.”

  “How the hell would we do that?” I mumble under my breath.

  But clearly Coach has the ears of a hawk because he nods out towards the cabin before speaking. “You could start by taking to the outdoors. There’s plenty of good hiking around here, but the one up to the lake overlook is by far the best. I marked a path up to the trail just behind the cabin.”

  “I know, Coach. Don’t forget I’ve been here a time or two,” River grins.

  Yeah, we get it, River. You’re in tight with Coach Scott, NFL superstar, and his kid. No need to rub it in more.

  “And so then you know the way back? It’s been a few years since you guys have been out here.” Coach raises his brow, questioning Len.

  River smirks and shakes his head, which only makes Coach chuckle in return, both of them clearly in on the inside joke I’m not privy to.

  “Someone want to enlighten me, so I don’t get fucking lost in the middle of the mountains if I decide to take a nice stroll…and don’t end up throwing myself over a cliff?”

  Sounds pretty fucking good right now. Actually scratch that and point me to the nearest death drop, thanks.

  Coach shakes his head and glances at River. “When these guys used to come out here with us when they were younger, since maybe about ten, they’ve been exploring these woods. They know them like the back of their hands now. But the first time we let them wander a little too far out of our eyesight, they were lost for almost two hours.”

  River laughs at that. “
I still am convinced I knew where we were the entire time, but your son was convinced we were going the right way until I managed to convince him otherwise.”

  My brow quirks. “And this has fuckall to do with finding my way back to the cabin…how?”

  River rolls his eyes. “Because dumbass, you just have to use common sense.”

  Coach’s eyes snap between us. “You two going to be okay up here for this long of a time? I don’t really feel like walking in on a bloody crime scene in January when I’m back to pick you idiots up.”

  “You wouldn’t have that problem if you didn’t force us to come here in the first place,” I growl, unamused. “Just tell me how to get out of the damn woods if I have trouble.”

  Coach sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Look, Grady, it’s simple. If you think you’re lost, just follow the river.”

  Follow River. Is he fucking serious?

  My eyes shoot between them, annoyed as hell. “This some kind of joke you two think is funny? Because I’d rather let a blind woman lead me across the interstate than fucking follow River anywhere.”

  River rolls his eyes before pushing off the railing of the deck. “He said the river. Not me, River.” His gaze shoots passed me to look at Coach. “Although I stand by the fact that if Taylor would have followed me that day, I’m sure we would have been back a lot sooner.”

  Coach shakes his head and lets out a deep laugh. “We can definitely go with your story, but don’t tell my son that. It would bruise his ego since he never picked up a sense of direction for being a born and raised mountain kid.”

  Yanking open the door to his truck, he hops in and starts it. “Don’t kill each other, please. I don’t want to have to explain it to your parents.”

  Don’t have to worry about that one, Coach. Doubt they’d give two shits either way.

  We watch from the deck as his truck disappears over the bridge of the stream and into the forest on the other side, back to civilization.

  Since I don’t particularly want to sit outside freezing my ass off and I’m definitely not looking to sit around the fire and knit fucking sweaters with River, I head back into the cabin, finding refuge in my room.