Follow the River

I swear to God, I need to see a shrink, because despite the shit Rain keeps pulling with me, I can’t seem to let go of my fascination with him.

It’s still early in practice, so Garrett and I are in only athletic shorts, T-shirts, and our red practice pi

I’m also in awe of the way Rain looks while catching the fucking ball.

Impressed as hell, I jog over to Garrett and slap him on the ass before gripping his neck and pulling his forehead to mine roughly. “That’s what I’m fucking talking about, man,” I exclaim in pride, before shoving him away playfully.

The kid, while only two years my junior, has been struggling this season in adjusting to the tenacity and skill level required to play on a Division One team. Most of the time it’s small shit, like his grip slipping or fumbling in practice due to nerves. I can’t fault him, after all, he’s only a freshman and green as hell, but today seems like a damn breakthrough. By the giant grin on his face, he realizes it too.

“You’re looking good, G. A lot more confident than you did even a week ago,” I tell him, which only stretches his smile even wider. “There’s just one thing you need to work on with your stance. It’s going to save your shoulder in the long run.”

Tossing a football into his hands, I motion for him to get into a throwing stance. Once he’s where I need him, I grip his elbow in my palm and adjust it slightly, moving it into the position it should be in.

“When you throw long, you need to make sure you’re using the correct form.” My hand slides down under his bicep to lift it up into the correct placement as I speak, cha

Slipping my hand up further to his shoulder, I begin to make the necessary adjustments there as well. Once I’m satisfied he’s in the stance that’ll save his arm, I step back and motion for Drew to head out for a deep one. Once he starts jogging out, I nod for G to let it fly. Sliding around as if in the pocket during the game, I watch his arm move flawlessly this time, letting the ball sail through the air and into Drew’s hands about fifty-yards away.

“Shit, dude. Keep throwing like that and I’ll be out of a starting position,” I step up to Garrett with a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder before giving him another quick pat on the ass. “Continue to work on your form and—”

My words are cut off by a sharp, shooting pain through my left wrist and all the way up my arm. It takes me a moment to realize the reason behind it is none other than Rain. His hand is wrapped firmly around my wrist, almost in a crushing grip. He tugs it back at an awkward angle, causing the ache in my shoulder as well.

My eyes fly up and over my shoulder to meet his, finding them on fire and filled with unchecked fury. His lips are pulled back in a sneer as he twists my wrist even further, pulling it behind my back between our bodies. I feel the bones grind together under the pressure of his hand and wince. Panic floods my senses and my brain works for ways to get myself free from his grasp before he breaks my wrist in half or dislocates my shoulder entirely.

Rain tightens his grip even more and a small whimper escapes me. “You might be the captain, but you need to watch where you put your goddamn hands while you’re on this field before I fucking break them.” His hot breath hits my neck and shoulders, telling me his mouth must be close to my skin.

Confusion hits me like a Mack truck.

Put my hands? What?

I squirm in his hold, spi

“Uh, Grady, is everything good here?” Garrett slowly asks, stepping into my peripheral view.

Rain’s head snaps to the side, startled to realize someone has walked up on him practically assaulting me on the football field.

Using his distraction to my advantage, I snatch my arm out of his grasp and bring it to my chest. “What the fuck, man?” I hiss. Grimacing when I rotate my wrist, I pray to God he didn’t injure me. Rolling my shoulder in its socket, at least I find it’s not nearly as painful.

Small fucking miracles.

I glance up at Rain, letting out a long, calming breath to put myself in check before I bite his damn head off, or worse, start throwing punches. But the second I go to open my mouth again, Coach is already on us, so I don’t have the chance to demand an explanation.

“Grady! Get your ass out of here. You’re done for the day.” My eyes fall on Coach to see steam practically shooting out his ears as he storms over to where we’re standing.

Fuck, he’s pissed.

I suppose he has every right to be when his two golden geese are at each other’s throats during practice. “I’ll see you in my office. Tomorrow morning before you suit up.” His tone is sharp, leaving no room for debate.

Rain just scoffs, shoving past me with a rough bump to my shoulder before jogging off the field and out the tu

“What in the hell is going on between you and Grady?” Coach Scott barks in my face, causing me to flinch as my attention is brought back to him. “I can’t have my star wide receiver breaking the arm of our starting quarterback when it’s the ticket to a goddamn bowl win.”

He says it as if he hasn’t known me my entire fucking life, which rubs me the wrong way. My cheeks heat as I do my best not to get mouthy with him, knowing full well it won’t do me any good.

“Fuck if I know, Coach. Maybe you should ask him.”

Well… that plan didn’t work, since the look on his face, tells me I’m about to get my ass reamed.

Nope, definitely not the right answer, River.

Whipping his hat off his head, I prepare for his verbal lashing, but he only lets out a sigh. “River, can you take one for the team here? Literally? Go apologize for whatever smartass comment came out of your mouth to piss him off?”

I open my mouth to object to his assumption that my mouth is the problem between Rain and I, but the way he raises his brow at me in challenge lets me know he isn’t putting up with my shit today. Guess that’s what happens when I practically lived in his house during my time in school with Taylor.

By now he’s clearly picked up on my infamous toxic trait of biting off more than I can chew.

“Yes, Coach,” I grumble, rubbing my hand over my face. “But for the fucking record, in this particular instance, I haven’t done jack shit to merit him attempting to snap my arm in half.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Coach shakes his head in exasperation. “Damnit, just go. You’re done for the day.”

With a nod, I grab my water before heading off the field.

“Ice your arm tonight!” Coach shouts right before I reach the tu