Damaged Petals.

[Soapy]

Season 6, Episode 1
"I want to start by saying I take full responsibility for my actions that night. What happened that night doesn't reflect who I am as a person or as a representative of Purdue University.”

…

"Of course. Being from South Bend means I understand how important Notre Dame is to that community."

…

"I need to be better, especially for the younger fans who look up to athletes like me. I made a mistake, and I'm committed to learning from it."

…

"As I said, it was a mistake and doesn't represent who I am or the values of Purdue football."

…

"I made a poor decision that night. The coaching staff and the university has been clear about team standards, and I've recommitted myself to being the player and person Purdue deserves."

…

"That's a decision for the coaches and the athletic department. I'm focused on being the best teammate I can be right now."

…

"I've reached out to the appropriate people and expressed my sincere regrets."

…

"Alright, that's all the time we have for Brice today," Ms. Winters, the school's Senior Sports Information Director, stepped smoothly to his side. "Thank you all for your questions. Brice has another commitment to get to."

Brice flashed his media smile one more time, but his eyes had long gone cold.

"You did great," Ms. Winters murmured as she guided him away from the press scrum.

…

Skylar adjusted herself in the slightly worn chair, her hand resting on the curve of her belly as she watched him squint at his monitor. Behind him, a framed Notre Dame law degree hung prominently among various Fighting Irish memorabilia.

"So," Paulie finally looked up, offering a half smile. "You’ve got those copies?"

Skylar pulled out the printed copies they’d discuss during their last phone call.

"Yeah," she slid the folder across his desk. "This should have all of the expenses up until last week. I'm still furnishing the nursery so I’ll print those once it’s completed."

Paulie nodded approvingly as he scanned the documents. "Good. Very good. This level of documentation strengthens our position considerably."

"Has there been any response to our latest communication?" Skylar asked, maintaining steady eye contact.

"They’re still insisting on the amniocentesis," Paulie shook his head.

Skylar sighed, but there was no anxiety in it, just calculated patience. "Of course they are."

"Our position on this has been clear, reasonable and consistent," Paulie assured her. "Keep offering the non-invasive test at every turn. Keep documenting every refusal, every communication. If this does go to court—which, frankly, I'm beginning to think is inevitable—this pattern of behavior works in our favor."

"I hope it doesn't come to that," Skylar smoothed the fabric of her flowing dress, a small smile playing at her lips. "When push comes to shove, he'll do the right thing."

…

"It was just annoying more than anything. The whole time I'm thinking about how I'd be moving half of it to Eli's the next day anyway."

Dr. Mendel nodded. "That must have been stressful, keeping that from them."

"It was," Connie admitted. "But also kind of liberating? Like, I'm making my own choices now. They don't need to know everything. It's weird though. There’s like all these rules on what you’re supposed to do, what you’re not allowed to do but like when it comes to the real shit…"

Dr. Mendel tilted her head slightly. "The real shit?"

"Like my pregnancy, I keep thinking about how contradictory it all was. They go to mass every week, talk about God's plan and the sanctity of life, but when I got pregnant? That baby was just a problem to solve. If they truly believed all that stuff they preach and swear by, wouldn't they have seen my child as a blessing? Instead, they were so fucking relieved when the adoption went through."

"That sounds like a significant realization for you," Dr. Mendel observed.

"It is. I'm not angry anymore. At least, not like before. I just see things more clearly now. Don’t get me wrong, I still think about it and how fucked up all of it was but it’s also like, over, you know?"

A moment of quiet settled between them before Connie continued, "Anyway, Eli helped me move the rest of my stuff the next day. I'm like so freaking excited about living with him, even if it's not like grown-up living together. It feels right, you know? Like we're building something real together."

Dr. Mendel studied her for a moment. "What does moving in with Eli represent to you in terms of your journey forward?"

…

Nia slid into her desk at the back of the class.

"Class starts at 7:45," Mr. Harrison said, marking something on his clipboard.

Nia mumbled something that might have been an apology, but even she wasn't sure what came out, the Xanax still making its way through her system. Mr. Harrison's voice droned on as he began his lecture, the words washing over her without sticking. Nia's eyelids grew heavy. She focused on her breathing, on the pleasant numbness spreading through her limbs. Her phone buzzing in her pocket jerked her attention. She took a glance at it before shifting her attention to the classroom door.

Through the narrow rectangular window, Zack's face appeared. She could see Damien crowded in beside him, making exaggerated beckoning motions with his hands. Both ducked down whenever Mr. Harrison turned toward the board, popping back up like whack-a-moles when his back was turned.

Zack held up his phone, showing her a text message too small to read from her seat. Then he made a smoking gesture with his fingers, eyebrows raised in question. Nia straightened slightly. The fog in her mind cleared just enough for her to understand.

She raised her hand, surprised by how heavy her arm felt.

"Yes?" Mr. Harrison sounded tired.

"Can I use the bathroom?" Her voice came out raspy, unused.

Mr. Harrison sighed, glancing at the clock. "Make it quick."

…

Liz sipped her drink, letting the vodka martini linger on her tongue as she surveyed the hotel bar. She checked her watch. Nine-fifteen. The ice in her glass clinked as she set it down.

"Is this seat taken?"

A man stood beside her, tall and broad-shouldered in a tailored charcoal suit.

"It's all yours," Liz replied, gesturing to the empty barstool.

He settled beside her, his cologne reaching her before he did.

"Chicago traffic is brutal this time of year," he said, ordering a scotch neat when the bartender approached.

"The construction on the Kennedy never ends," Liz agreed, angling her body slightly toward him. "Are you in town for business or pleasure?"

"A bit of both, I hope."

Liz felt a flush creep up her neck. "Sounds intriguing."

"And you?" He leaned in slightly. "What brings a woman like you to a hotel bar alone?"

"Maybe I'm not alone anymore."

They engaged in small talk as the night went on, the kind that was light and cliched yet filled with laughter. With each exchange, he shifted incrementally closer until eventually, his hand brushed hers as he reached for his drink.

"Apologies," he murmured, not sounding sorry at all.

"No harm done." Liz smiled, not pulling away.

When the bartender brought their next round, he paid for both despite her polite protest. After their third drink, he reached into his pocket and slid something across the polished wood.

"Room 1217," he said quietly. "If you're interested."

Liz stared at the key card for a long moment, then burst into laughter that bubbled up from deep in her chest.

"What?"

"That’s a bit forward, don’t you think?"

"Three drinks in, I’m leaving with something," Tom shook his head with a smirk, "Those fuckers are $20 a pop."

"You’re an idiot," she leaned forward, kissing him properly now.

"I thought I was being smooth," he protested, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Mmm, very smooth," Liz said, pocketing the key card.

[Caesar]

Purdue not sending his bitch ass to Colorado School of the Mines is shameful.

Of course he’s not stepping up for the woman he knocked up—the woman, mind you, who is the best friend of the last chick he knocked up. That Catholic pull out method ain’t doing shit.

Connie about to end up with a grippy sock vacay when this Eli thing falls apart.

Soapy Perry in full flow!

Liz and Tom roleplaying and shit. About to pop out a replacement baby for Jimmy.

[Captain Canada]

Brice is cooked, Nia is fried, Liz is who we thought she was.

All seems in order here.

[redsox907]

come on, get to the part where he defenders himself to LaPenna again despite obviously spiraling still, we know its coming

Connie branching out on her own, love to see it even if we know she gonna fold eventually

Nia gonna OD. Take it to Vegas.

Tom and Liz pretending like they ain't fiending after their exs. Tom gonna change his FB profile to a pic of sophie and brice soon and Liz will hide her relationship status, we know the play

[djp73]

Brice:

[Soapy]

Purdue not sending his bitch ass to Colorado School of the Mines is shameful.

Of course he’s not stepping up for the woman he knocked up—the woman, mind you, who is the best friend of the last chick he knocked up. That Catholic pull out method ain’t doing shit.

Connie about to end up with a grippy sock vacay when this Eli thing falls apart.

Soapy Perry in full flow!

Liz and Tom roleplaying and shit. About to pop out a replacement baby for Jimmy.

Season Stats 389-531, 3795 Yds, 31 TD, 8 INT, Sacked 45x, 115 Car, 448 Yds, 3 TD, 7 fumbles (6 lost)
Accolades Freshman All-Big Ten, Shaun Alexander Award Semifinalist

name holds weight

Brice is cooked, Nia is fried, Liz is who we thought she was.

All seems in order here.

You was popping percs going to class bro, streets ain't forget

come on, get to the part where he defenders himself to LaPenna again despite obviously spiraling still, we know its coming

Connie branching out on her own, love to see it even if we know she gonna fold eventually

Nia gonna OD. Take it to Vegas.

Tom and Liz pretending like they ain't fiending after their exs. Tom gonna change his FB profile to a pic of sophie and brice soon and Liz will hide her relationship status, we know the play

Y'all are dark lmao

Brice:

me neither gang

[Soapy]

Season 6, Episode 2
Brice squinted into the August sun, helmet perched on his head as he squirted water into his mouth, watching Bruce run a simple post route. The freshman’s physical tools had gotten Brice’s attention in the spring but he had struggled to string together solid reps, let alone a string of good practices.

Bruce cut inside, wide open by five yards against the second-year defensive back as the ball spiraled perfectly toward his chest and then the predictable happened.

"Come on, man," Brice muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "That's a fucking touchdown."

He took another swig of water as he shook his head and stared at the grass. It would be a long season ahead of them and a twisted ankle there, a pulled hamstring here and he’d be looking at someone like Bruce in the huddle with potentially their season on the line.

Bruce jogged back to the huddle, head down, shoulders slumped.

"First unit!" Coach Ford's voice boomed across the field. "First team offense, let's go!"

Brice pushed himself up from his knee, snapping his helmet strap. The plastic shell slid into place, the familiar weight comforting as he rolled his shoulders and jogged toward the huddle. He passed Bruce heading to the sideline, the freshman's eyes fixed on the ground.

"Fuck it," Brice muttered to himself as he took his place at the center of the huddle, "Let’s get to this money, gentlemen."

…

Brice stood outside Shreve Hall, sweat already pooling at the base of his neck. He watched as the freshmen hauled an endless parade of plastic storage bins, duffel bags, and pastel bedding up the three flights of stairs.

He leaned against the back bumper of Mel’s battered Altima, arms crossed, equally amused by the freshmen’s struggles as he was by Abdul’s attempt at making conversation with Sabrina, Mel’s sorority sister and friend.

"You enjoying the show?" Mel asked, nudging him with her elbow.

"Just making sure these freshmen understand the importance of team building," Brice replied, his shoulder brushing against hers as he shifted his weight.

Mel rolled her eyes. "Right. Team building. That's why you haven't helped with a single thing."

"I'm supervising. It's a leadership position."

"There’s a really dark joke in there somewhere," Mel laughed as she shook her head, eliciting only a shrug and a wry smile from Brice.

"Yo, we got hall right now," Abdul signaled to Brice, holding up the reminder from his phone.

"Do you need your workers then?" Sabrina teased.

"Nah," Brice quickly answered, "Just tell them to haul ass when they’re done."

They exchanged goodbyes — Abdul receiving a side hug from Sabrina and a wave from Mel — before beginning the ten minute walk to the athletic complex for mandatory study hall.

"Man, we need to set up a two-man," Abdul said, glancing back at Sabrina.

Brice let out a short laugh. "Bro, she’s not going."

"Stop being a selfish ass nigga, five. If the vibe is right, she is definitely going."

"If that’s the case, what you need me for?" Brice shrugged.

"Nigga, y’all two practically go together," Abdul sucked his teeth, "If her friend go with you, and you my nigga, it like does something in their head where they just let their guard down and shit."

"First of all, me and Mel are just friends," Brice smirked, "And second of all, most importantly, none of what you just said makes any fucking sense by the way."

"Yeah, yeah, y’all friends," Abdul shook his head, "You telling me you ain’t never hit that?"

The question sent an unexpected spike of irritation through Brice. "That’s exactly what I’m telling you."

"I thought you was more player than that," Abdul scoffed, "I still don’t see why we can’t do that two-man. Y’all can braid each other hair for all I care. I just want mine, you feel me?"

"Whatever, motherfucker, I’ll think about it."

…

Liz traced a finger along the edge of the hickey on her neck, unable to suppress the smile that had been there all day as she navigated the bright aisles of Target. The previous night was still fresh in her mind, flashbacks rushing through her mind throughout the day.

She lingered at the edge of the men's department, scanning the rack of sweaters. There wasn’t a birthday or holiday coming up and yet had been drawn to the section to get something for Tom, his wardrobe growing stale over the years.

"Mrs. Colton?"

Liz turned at the sound of her name, the sweater still in her hand.

"Skylar! Hello," Liz said, her eyes widening before she could control her expression. She hesitated before continuing, her genuine surprise overwhelming her as she looked for the right words. "I... wow, congratulations."

Skylar's hand moved instantly to her rounded stomach, her eyes narrowing slightly as she registered Liz's surprise.

"Thank you," she said, her voice measured.

Liz nodded, struggling to find the right words and still trying to process everything. "That's wonderful. You’re still at Ball State?"

Skylar forced a slight smile as she was also processing this information, "Online classes right now."

"Of course," Liz nodded, her mind wandering to Brice and Connie. This is what they wanted to avoid, having to decide between their own future and raising a kid. "Well, it's lovely to see you. Please give my best to your parents."

"Brice hasn't told you?" Skylar tilted her head.

…

Brice shrugged. "It is what it is. We lost some guys but you know, we’ll figure it out."

"That's putting it mildly." LaPenna smiled.

"Yeah, well, nobody's gonna lower the bar for us," Brice stopped bouncing his leg, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Last season we shocked everybody. This year, they're expecting us to do it again."

"And how do you feel about those expectations?"

Brice exhaled slowly. "Ain’t that what the money is for?"

"Can you elaborate on that?"

"Look, I know everybody knows that I got paid a lot to come back," Brice ran a hand through his hair. "Obviously, less money to spread around, especially at a place like Purdue. We’ve got new guys up front, went cheap at receiver so it’s like on me to figure this shit out and make it work."

"That's a lot of pressure to put on yourself."

"It's not me putting it there," Brice shrugged. "I don’t see any other face’s on the brochures, on the emails asking for more money. It’s nothing new, not really. It was like that at St. Joe’s and before that on all of my teams. It’s just…more."

LaPenna watched him for a moment. "What about Notre Dame? Opening the season against them has to add another layer."

"It's just another game," Brice waved his hand dismissively.

"Come on, Brice."

"Look, I know what you're trying to do, but it's fine. I've played them before."

"That was a very emotional game."

Brice shot him a look. "Yeah, almost forgot about it."

"I'm just wondering if there's something more going on here." LaPenna rested his chin on his palm. "You seem more... wound up than usual."

"I'm fine," Brice shrugged, "Just trying to get through camp and ready for the season."

"Nothing else on your mind? Nothing outside of football?"

There was plenty but he pushed it away. "Nah, just the usual bullshit of being Brice Colton."

LaPenna studied him for a long moment, and Brice felt like the man could see right through him. But he held LaPenna’s gaze without flinching despite part of him wanting the relief of telling someone other than his lawyer.

"Alright," LaPenna nodded slowly. "But remember, my door is always open. We don’t always have to talk about football just because the season is back."

"I know," Brice stood, eager to end the session. "That’s just my focus right now."

"I understand," LaPenna rose as well. "Hey, Brice?"

Brice paused at the door. "Yeah?"

"Sometimes the heaviest weights we carry aren't the ones we talk about. They're the ones we keep to ourselves."

Brice forced a smile. "You should put that on a t-shirt, Doc."

[Caesar]

Skylar about to pop and Brice ain’t even told his people they got another grandchild on the way. Diabolical.

Glad we keeping Brice and Mel friendly, especially in Black History Month

[Captain Canada]

Skylar about to pop and Brice ain’t even told his people they got another grandchild on the way. Diabolical.

Glad we keeping Brice and Mel friendly, especially in Black History Month

"Another" sent me

[redsox907]

"Brice hasn't told you?" Skylar tilted her head.

he ain't claiming the kid, she knew he hadn't told em. this is diabolical work on Skylar's part to try and push him to accept it. to Skylar

Connie would never