Follow the River

“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 stu

Glancing to my left I notice a hallway ru

“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 pla

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.”