“It’s only ten minutes.” Rafe looked up, finished with his laces, and pushed to his feet just as Tate came up behind Beckett and sidestepped their teammate. “I just oversle—”
Rafe only had a split second to register the fury on Tate’s face before his friend threw a right cross. Tate’s knuckles cracked against Rafe’s eye socket, and the force behind the punch whipped Rafe’s head right. Shock dulled the initial pain for a couple of seconds, but by the time he stumbled backward, fire exploded all through Rafe’s face.
“What the hell?” Beckett yelled. “We’ve got a game tonight.”
But Rafe wasn’t thinking about the game. He’d just come to the painful realization that Tate knew. Somehow, Tate knew. Which meant his best friend had just punched him based on—as far as Tate knew—a rumor.
Tate shoved Beckett back and came at Rafe again. Still bent at the waist, Rafe rammed his shoulder into Tate’s chest and slammed him into a wall.
“Knock it the fuck off,” Beckett bellowed before hauling Rafe back by the arm and stepping between them. “Put your petty shit aside. We’re in the fucking playoffs, you jackasses. We need both of you at your best.”
Rafe straightened and scowled at Tate. “What’s wrong with you?”
Tate stabbed the air between them with his finger. “Kilbourne told me. You bailed on the date chick and went home with Mia.”
The depth of Tate’s anger blew away every hope that his friend would ever understand Rafe and Mia being together.
“I did not go home with Mia.” That was technically true, but judging by the hurt and rage burning across Tate’s face, it wasn’t enough. “And why the hell are you taking Kilbourne’s word instead of asking me first?”
“Because Mia didn’t come home last night, and Kilbourne told me she was all over you at Bellissimo. He told me you two talked about hitting the sheets.”
“Mia pretended to be my girl so I could get away from that mouthy contest chick before my head exploded. I don’t know where Mia went after she left me.”
It was all true. Yet all a lie. And after all Tate had done for Rafe, all Tate’s father had done for Rafe, he felt an inch big right now.
“You’re so full of shit.” Kilbourne sauntered into the locker room and joined the rest of the team going about their business with one ear and one eye on Tate and Rafe’s fight.
Beckett pointed at Kilbourne. “You’ve caused enough trouble.”
“You and Mia were so hot, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other,” Kilbourne said to Rafe. “Why else would you have handed that smokin’ hot chick off to me?”
“Because she talked about minutia until my ears were bleeding, you idiot,” Rafe yelled so loud it echoed off the walls. The pressure shot pain through his head, and Rafe swore and pressed the back of his hand to his eye. It came away bloody. “For fuck’s sake.”
Kilbourne’s superior smirk faded. His gaze went distant. “She did talk a lot. Even while I was banging her, she never shut up.”
Rafe lifted his hand toward Kilbourne and told Tate, “See.”
Then Kilbourne lifted a shoulder and continued to his locker. “Whatever. You bailed on one hot fuck. Bet I’m playing way better than you tonight.”
Rafe lunged for Kilbourne but never made contact—Beckett grabbed him by the shirt.
“It’s over,” Beckett said. “Get your head back in the game.” He released his shirt and gave Rafe a shove toward the gym. “Get in a light workout.”
Beckett continued to his locker, and Rafe shot a scowl at Kilbourne, but his anger faded when he looked at Tate again. His hands rested on his hips, his shoulders sagged, and his expression had gone from furious to sullen.
“I’m sorry,” Tate said, his tone frustrated. “I’ve been worried about Mia, then you came late this morning, and Kilbourne’s story started making sense— Never mind. I’m just… I’m sorry, man.”
Instead of relief, anger sparked. Tate was confirming what Rafe already knew—his best friend would never see Rafe as good enough for Mia. And seeing her without Tate’s blessing would drive a wedge between all of them. Which also meant damaging Rafe’s relationship with Joe and screwing up the balance on the team.
“Forget about it.” Rafe grabbed a towel from a pile on the bench and turned for the gym.
Tate sidestepped and held a hand up, his expression wholly apologetic. “It’s just… Mia’s going through a rough transition right now. I’m worried she’s, I don’t know, not exactly using her best judgment at the moment.”
“And your first thought was that she was sleeping with me? Good to know you consider your best friend a poor judgment call. I’m good enough for you but not your sister, is that what you’re saying?”
“You know how hard relationships have been on Mia. She needs stability. Someone who will stick. You fuck someone different every other night. So, no, that’s not the kind of guy I’d want for my sister, and if you thought about it for a second, you’d know it’s not the kind of guy you’d want for her either. I don’t even know why we’re talking about this since nothing happened.”
“Get to work, ladies,” Beckett yelled across the locker room.