Damaged Petals.

[Soapy]

Season 6, Episode 4
"Bitch, you knew what the fuck you were doing!" Brice hissed into his phone, his knuckles white around the case.

The voice on the other end was a lot more measured. "How was I supposed to know you didn’t tell your parents? She’s the one that walked up to me at the store."

"Don’t play fucking stupid with me," Brice paced the small study room, "You think that shit is going to work? You think I give a fuck what my parents think, what they say? None of this, okay, none of this ends with you winning, you fucking hear me? Get a fucking job instead of trying to extort me."

"Extort?" she scoffed. "I'm carrying your child, Brice."

"Bitch, who know how many motherfuckers done cum all inside you," he lowered his voice as a student walked past the glass door. "You were an easy fuck, bitch. You think I’m stupid?"

"Brice, I understand this is a lot but at some point, you’re going to need to accept it. I’m not Co…you can’t manipulate me like you can everyone else."

"Listen to me, you fucking whore," he snarled. "This fucking gold-digger routine isn't going to work. I will burn this entire shit down before giving you a single fucking penny, you fuck-"

"We'll see about that when the paternity test—"

The door to the study room opened. Brice's head jerked up to see Mel standing in the doorway, backpack slung over one shoulder. He stabbed at the end call button as he set the phone face-down on the table.

"Hey," he said, his voice instantly lighter as he flashed Mel a smile. "What’s up, Melly Mel?"

"I’m good," Mel replied, dropping her backpack on the table. "Everything okay?"

"Just some football shit," the lie rolled off his tongue.

Mel studied him for a moment but only nodded. She pulled out her laptop and statistics textbook. "I'm completely lost on this regression analysis stuff."

"That's what we’re here for." Brice leaned back in his chair. "Jade and what’s-her-name still coming?"

"Don’t you worry," she smirked as she settled into the chair across from him. "She wouldn’t miss it for the world."

"She has fire snacks," Brice teased as he shrugged.

"Yeah, I’m sure that’s all she’s got for you."

Brice watched her set up her study materials, grateful for the distraction. The fury still simmered beneath his skin, but he pushed it down, locked it away.

"So," he said, sliding his own textbook across the table, "How far into the lab are you?"

…

Skylar let the phone drop from her ear, her jaw tight as Brice's venom still rang in her ears. The click of the disconnected call felt anticlimactic, like the argument had been severed mid-breath. She took a slow inhale through her nose, held it, then slowly released it.

The studio lobby was small and intimate with exposed brick walls adorned with framed portraits, soft instrumental music playing from hidden speakers. A diffuser on the reception desk released lavender mist into the air. Skylar tucked her phone into her leather handbag and smoothed her hands over the flowing fabric of her dress.

"Skylar?" A woman in her mid-thirties emerged from a doorway. "We're ready for you."

The photographer led her down a short hallway into the studio where white seamless paper cascaded from ceiling to floor, creating an angelic backdrop.

"I'm Jenna," the photographer said, adjusting one of the lights. "First shoot?"

"It is," Skylar set her bag on a chair near the door.

"Nervous?"

"Not really," Skylar moved to the center of the backdrop, testing her footing. "I’ve been looking forward to this since I found out I was pregnant."

Jenna smiled, positioning herself behind the camera. "That's the energy I love. Okay, let's start simple. Just rest your hands on your belly, chin up slightly."

Skylar placed her hands on the curve of her stomach. The baby shifted beneath her palms, a flutter of movement that made her smile real.

"Beautiful," Jenna said, the shutter clicking rapidly. "You're a natural at this. Turn to your left a bit. Perfect. Now look down at your belly."

Skylar complied, her expression softening as she gazed down. The baby kicked again, stronger this time. She wondered idly if it could sense the tension from the phone call, if Brice's words had somehow traveled through her.

"These are going to be stunning," Jenna said, moving to adjust another light. "Are you doing any partner shots today?"

"No," Skylar said simply. "Just me."

…

Sophie's fork scraped against her plate as she pushed the last remnants of grilled chicken to one side. Liz sat across from her, laptop open as her fingers moved across the keyboard. Tom had already finished, his plate pushed aside as he scrolled through his phone.

"Thanks for dinner," Sophie said as she got up.

"You’re welcome," Tom replied, not looking up from his screen, "Rinse your plate before putting it in the dishwasher."

Sophie did as she was told, the ceramic clinking against the stainless steel before she disappeared up the staircase. The sound of her bedroom door closing echoed through the house.

Tom set his phone down and moved behind Liz’s chair, his hands settling on her shoulders.

"What are you doing?" Liz asked, though she didn't stop typing.

"You've been tense all day," Tom said, his thumbs working into the knot at the base of her neck. "I can feel it from across the room."

Liz let out a small sigh, her shoulders dropping slightly under his touch. "We really need a new associate."

"Come on," Tom said, applying more pressure. "You expect me to believe that?"

Liz's fingers stilled on the keyboard. "What else would it be about?"

"I don't know," Tom said, his voice taking on a teasing lilt. "Maybe it’s the fact that it’s taking every fiber in your being to not ask me about that little road trip the other day."

Liz laughed despite herself, shaking her head. "You're an ass."

"So you do want to know."

"Of course I want to know," Liz admitted, closing her laptop and tilting her head back to look at him.

Tom's hands continued their work, moving up to her shoulders. "There's not much to say."

"Tom."

"Liz."

She reached up and grabbed his wrist, stopping the massage. "I'm serious. What is he going to do about this? Have they taken a test? Why haven’t they? Could it really be his?"

Tom moved around to the chair Sophie had vacated, settling into it with a heaviness that hadn't been there moments before.

"I can’t tell you what he’s going to do because he doesn’t know what he’s going to do," Tom said finally. "He’s going to have to figure this one out on his own. We can't keep swooping in every time things get complicated."

"He's our son."

"He's a grown man," Tom corrected. "Who's made his own choices. Our interfering is only going to make this worse."

Liz's jaw tightened. "So what, we just sit back and watch the fucking train wreck?"

"That's not what I'm saying."

"Then what are you saying?" Liz's voice rose slightly. "Because from where I'm sitting, this hands-off approach feels a lot like lazy parenting."

"We've already interfered once," Tom kept his voice calm. "Look how that turned out."

"That was different," she said quietly.

"Was it?" Tom asked.

Liz said nothing. She was the one that had spoken to Connie and her parents, that had convinced them that it was the right thing to do.

"I'm not saying we abandon him," Tom continued. "But this time, whatever happens, it has to be his decision. Not ours."

"And if he makes the wrong one?"

"Then he makes the wrong one," Tom said simply. "And he lives with it. Like we're living with ours."

The silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of old wounds that had never quite healed. Tom reached across the table, his hand covering hers. For a long moment, they sat like that, the only sound the quiet hum of the refrigerator and the distant noise of Sophie's TV filtering through her closed door.

"So," Tom said finally, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of her hand. "I'm thinking we try that new Italian place. The one with the wine cellar."

"The one that requires reservations a month in advance?"

"I may have already made one," Tom said, his smile widening.

[Captain Canada]

So the Liz infidelity gonna create a crater in this new-found reconnection or what?

[Caesar]

Skylar taking maternity pictures is crazy. She gonna put that shit online and tag Brice’s ass.

Brice needs to man up. Culture problem there. Always creating single moms.

[redsox907]

Brice mad dumb. You think that bih ain't recording every phone call for dirt, dumbass?

So the Liz infidelity gonna create a crater in this new-found reconnection or what?

Tom was the one who stepped, not Liz

Skylar playing all her cards right to be set for life, gotta respect the hustle. Only thing is she gonna be FUCKED if it really isn't Brice's. But the way she's been moving, I'd bet it is. Bitch been trying to lock him down for a while

[Captain Canada]

Brice mad dumb. You think that bih ain't recording every phone call for dirt, dumbass?

So the Liz infidelity gonna create a crater in this new-found reconnection or what?

Tom was the one who stepped, not Liz

Skylar playing all her cards right to be set for life, gotta respect the hustle. Only thing is she gonna be FUCKED if it really isn't Brice's. But the way she's been moving, I'd bet it is. Bitch been trying to lock him down for a while

You're right, totally missed that the guy at the bar ended up being Tom. Good catch, brudda.

[Soapy]

Skylar taking maternity pictures is crazy. She gonna put that shit online and tag Brice’s ass.

Brice needs to man up. Culture problem there. Always creating single moms.

Not doing anything that his teammates aren't

Brice mad dumb. You think that bih ain't recording every phone call for dirt, dumbass?

So the Liz infidelity gonna create a crater in this new-found reconnection or what?

Tom was the one who stepped, not Liz

Skylar playing all her cards right to be set for life, gotta respect the hustle. Only thing is she gonna be FUCKED if it really isn't Brice's. But the way she's been moving, I'd bet it is. Bitch been trying to lock him down for a while

You're right, totally missed that the guy at the bar ended up being Tom. Good catch, brudda.

that DNA test gonna hit like crack in the 80s for all parties

[Soapy]

Season 6, Episode 5
Connie adjusted her sunglasses and leaned back in her lawn chair, her Fighting Irish t-shirt already clinging to her skin. Eli stood beside her, one hand resting on the back of her chair as he chatted with his friends about the new additions to the team. She half-listened, her attention drifting to the controlled chaos around them.

Families streamed past their tailgate spot, kids in oversized jerseys clutching foam fingers. A group of older alumni had set up an elaborate spread nearby, complete with a flat-screen TV mounted to the side of their RV.

"This is going to be a fucking movie, bro," Tyler said, cracking open a beer. "After all that bullshit over the summer."

"Bro, we're favored by fourteen," Tate grinned. "It's not even going to be close."

Connie took another drink, the carbonation sharp on her tongue.

"Yo, check that out," Tate laughed, pointing toward a family a few spots over.

Connie followed his gesture. A middle-aged couple had backed their truck into their parking spot, the tailgate down to reveal their setup. But it wasn't the spread of food or the coolers that caught her attention. It was the poster board propped up against the bumper, bold black letters on white: "FUCK BRICE COLTON."

"Jesus Christ," Tyler cackled. "That's what I’m talking about.

Tate pulled out his phone, angling for a picture. "This is going on the story for sure."

Connie felt Eli's hand shift on the back of her chair, his fingers tensing slightly. She didn't need to look up to know he was watching her, gauging her reaction. She kept her expression neutral, taking another sip of her drink as she stared at the poster.

"That's wild," Connie said finally, her tone casual.

"I hope we blitz his ass on the first fucking play," Tyler said. "I need Traore to drill his fucking ass all fucking game."

"Ayo!" exclaimed the rest of the group as they broke into laughter.

Eli's thumb traced a small circle on her shoulder blade, subtle enough that no one else would notice. She knew what he was doing, one of the reasons that she fell for him so quickly. He was so perceptive, so acutely aware of everything, especially when it involved her.

…

The team bus rolled past the iconic golden dome as Brice stared out the tinted window at the sea of navy and gold. His headphones sat snug over his ears. Through the window, he could see them gathering already, the crowd pressed against the barriers, phones raised, mouths moving in what he knew were obscenities even if he couldn't hear them through the glass and music.

I just fucked my bitch on Sunday You ain't have emotion, you ain't got money I had to take me a trip out to London

His throat tightened as the bus eased to a stop. He'd sat in those stands as a kid, Jimmy next to him, both of them screaming themselves hoarse as the Irish took the field. Brice pushed it down, buried it deep where it couldn't touch him right now as he returned to humming the lyrics, a bit louder this time.

Fuckin' his bitch so good, she hummin' Shoutout to Andre, payin' my homage

The doors hissed open. Brice was the first player off the bus following a few coaches and some of the equipment guys. The wall of sound hit him immediately as it pierced through the music blasting in his ears. He let the cocky grin spread across his face as his shoes hit the pavement.

A middle-aged man leaned over the barrier, middle finger extended, his face red as he screamed something Brice couldn't hear over the music. Brice looked directly at him, his grin widening as he nodded in acknowledgment.

I like to ball, don't got a jumper Make one call, pull up with thumpers PS2, ready to rumble Pull out the fire, like a cookie, he crumble If you go broke, then that shit make you humble

More teammates filed off behind him. Brice could feel their energy shift, some of them hunching their shoulders, eyes down, trying to make themselves smaller against the hostility. That wouldn't do. He slowed his pace deliberately, rolled his shoulders back, let his head bob to the beat as he open screamed the lyrics.

Look at my dog, he a demon, got summon My bitch bangin' blood, she more gangsta than you Give 'em one cable, my kid losin' twos Mathematically, I'm doin' better than you

Behind him, he heard Abdul laugh. "Yo, five is on one right now."

The pathway to the visiting locker room felt longer than it should have. Every step was a step he'd imagined taking in different colors, different circumstances. He and Jimmy were supposed to do this together, supposed to run out of that tunnel side by side in Notre Dame jerseys, not Purdue. Not like this.

Give her a chain when I'm fuckin' a bitch Paid her for a hitta, I be thinkin' like Mitch Yellow gold Rollie, a bottle of Cris' Pull out a M, since you hollerin', you rich We havin' motion, like the ocean I can't go in her raw, where the Trojan?

A security guard held open the door to the tunnel. The noise dampened slightly as Brice stepped inside, the concrete walls absorbing some of the venom from outside. The rest of the team filed in behind him, the energy scattered, uncertain.

Brice pulled one headphone off his ear and turned to face them, walking backward now.

"Y'all hear that shit?" he was still grinning, his voice carrying over the remaining noise. "They scared as fuck out there! They know what time it is!"

But underneath the bravado, underneath the grin and the swagger, laid his real emotions. The weight of what this place meant, what it should have meant, pressed down on him with every step. He could almost feel Jimmy walking beside him, could almost hear his brother's voice cutting through the music.

…

The tailgate was winding down, people packing up coolers and folding chairs. Connie dumped the remnants of her drink into the grass and was reaching for her purse when she heard her name.

"Connie? Oh my God, I knew it was you!"

She turned to see Madison Fletcher weaving through the crowd toward her, arms already spread for a hug. Madison's blonde hair was curled perfectly, as it always was.

"Madison, hey!" Connie returned the hug, brief and polite. "I didn't know you came to these games."

"Are you kidding? I try to make it to as many as I can," Madison smiled. "Not like Holy Cross has a game that anyone cares about. How’s it going? I feel like it’s been forever!"

"It's great," Connie said, the words coming easily. "Challenging but good."

"I bet. God, you always were the smart one," Madison laughed.

Connie felt a small bloom of satisfaction in her chest. "Holy Cross is great though, right? It's basically on campus anyway."

"Yeah, it's fine. I mean, it's not the same obviously, but you know, it works," Madison's smile stayed fixed. "You’re living on campus or?"

"Yeah, on campus with my boyfriend," Connie made sure to mention. "Eli. He's right over there."

"That's so cute! God, I remember when we used to talk about college and maybe going away to SC and all that," Madison's eyes scanned the tailgate area. "Speaking of, how’s Skylar doing? I saw her the other day but didn’t get a chance to say hi."

The name landed flat on Connie. "I’m not really sure, honestly. We kind of lost touch after she went to Ball State. I’m sure she’s doing great, she was liking it the last time we spoke when she got there."

"Oh," Madison leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to that conspiratorial tone that Connie remembered from high school. "I had no idea she was pregnant."

Connie's brain stuttered. "I... I didn't know she was pregnant."

"Really? I figured if anyone knew, you would. You guys were like inseparable." Madison's eyebrows rose. "Yeah, she looked ready to pop any day now. I didn't want to be rude and ask too many questions but she seemed good, happy. At least she looked it. I mean, damn, if a girl can’t be happy at Target, where can she be, you know?"

"That's... that's great for her," Connie managed, her throat suddenly tight. Of course Skylar was pregnant. It was almost funny in a twisted way. Skylar, who was never shy about making friends, was the one that got to avoid teen pregnancy.

"I’m really happy for her," Connie forced brightness into her voice. "We’re getting ready to head in, it was nice seeing you."

"For sure! It was so good seeing you too. We should get brunch sometime!"

"Definitely," Connie said, already turning away. "Text me!"

She moved through the dispersing crowd toward Eli. Skylar was pregnant. Skylar was in South Bend. Skylar, who'd fucked her way through high school without consequence while Connie had made one mistake and her entire life had imploded.

"Ready to head in?" Eli asked as she reached him, his hand finding the small of her back immediately.

"Yeah," she said, letting herself lean into him slightly.

They joined the stream of fans heading toward the stadium gates. Connie focused on the feeling of Eli's hand on her back, on the familiar comfort of his presence. She wasn't going to think about Skylar. She wasn't going to think about the unfairness of it all. She was here, at Notre Dame, with a boyfriend who loved her, who she loved, moving forward with her life.

But the anxious knot in her stomach wouldn't loosen as they made their way through the gates, up the concrete ramps, the roar of the crowd growing louder. Their seats were in the student section, close enough to the field that she could make out individual players as they warmed up.

And there he was.

Brice stood near midfield, going through stretches with the rest of the Purdue team. Even from this distance, she was able to pick him out pretty quickly, even without his jersey. The crowd around her erupted in boos as he jogged past their section, some students screaming obscenities, others just making noise.

Connie's chest tightened. The memory of his hands on her shoulder, not quite that comforting touch that Eli provided, of the hospital room, of signing papers she'd barely been able to read through her tears, it all crashed over her at once. And now Skylar of all people was pregnant, and Brice was down there, and everything felt too close, too raw, like a wound that hadn't healed right.

She tried to bury away the thoughts and emotions, filing them away to be explored by Dr. Mendel in the right setting instead of right here, right now.

"Hey," Eli said softly, his lips close to her ear. "You good?"

Instead of answering, Connie turned and kissed him. She pressed into it, let herself get lost in the warmth of his mouth, the safety of his arms wrapping around her. The crowd noise faded slightly, the anxiety receding just enough for her to breathe.

When she pulled back, Eli's eyes searched hers, concern evident in the crease between his brows.

"I'm good," she said, and this time she almost believed it.

…

Brice stood surrounded by his teammates, their bodies packed close in the dim light. He could feel the tension radiating off them as the stadium above them was already shaking with noise, thousands of voices unified in their hatred.

Brice glanced at his right tackle Max, making his first career start. His eyes darted toward the opening where they'd eventually take the field, then back down at his cleats. Next to him, Bruce had his arms crossed over his chest, trying to look tough, but Brice could tell.

They were scared. All of them.

Brice started nodding his head as he bumped Max in the chest.

"Scrooge McDuck, got one of my rooms all flooded with gold," he rapped, his voice cutting through the tunnel. "I done bought two, four, five, six, seven, eight karats in stones"

A few heads turned toward him.

He walked up to Bruce and bumped his shoulder hard. "Cash on the California couch, can't wait to go dress my home."

Bruce didn’t say anything.

Brice moved down the line, bumping Abdul next. "Smash all you itty-bitty rappers in a minute, I was tryna prolong. On the way to reachin' my goals, lot of doors open and close "

Abdul let out a bark of laughter and joined in. "I've been spendin' millions on clothes, I been makin' millions off clothes."

"Stackin' new money to old, garments stay vintage and old," he sang, bumping into another teammate. "Cut up my shirt full of holes, GunWunna got a lot of hoes."

More voices joined.

"Shoutout my cousin, my cousin, my kin, my blood, my folk!" Abdul shouted, his voice echoing off the concrete walls.

"Hold my team, now I plant the seed, give it water to grow," someone else added.

The whole team was moving now, bodies swaying, shoulders bumping. The lyrics were getting louder, drowning out the hatred from above. Brice kept pushing through them, making sure everyone was in it, everyone was feeling it.

"Goin' through the motions, stay strong, he done been him all along," they sang together, the words bouncing around the tunnel.

The tunnel was alive now. No more hunched shoulders. No more downcast eyes. The announcement came over the speaker system, muffled but clear enough. Notre Dame was taking the field.

"They was tryna stunt my growth, I been steady chasin' my goals," they sang as they started moving toward the opening.

"Nigga, why you watchin'? I'm grown, nigga can't take my throne," they were almost running now, the energy propelling them.

"Goin' through the motions, stay strong, he done been him all along,"

The team burst from the tunnel into the blinding sunlight, into that ocean of navy and gold, into the boos and the screaming. But they were singing, still singing, their voices united against all of it.

Brice slowed at the tunnel entrance as his teammates flooded onto the field. He stood in the shadow, watching them go, the lyrics dying on his lips as the last player disappeared into the light.

He was alone now.

The noise from the stadium washed over him, but it felt distant, muted. He looked down at his cleats, at the grass just beyond the tunnel opening.

"Going through the motions, stay strong," he muttered, barely a whisper. "I’ve been him all along."

His throat tightened. The tears came without warning, hot and fast, blurring his vision. He tilted his head back, looking up past the concrete ceiling, past everything, to where the sky should be. His hand came up slowly, index finger pointing toward heaven.

"Long Live Jimmy," he whispered.

The words hung in the air for a moment. Then Brice wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, sucked in a deep breath, and stepped into the light.

[Caesar]

All that progress Connie has done about to unravel when she find out Skylar pregnant for Brice. Grippy sock vacation incoming.

How much of them lyrics was Brice singing?

[redsox907]

a lot of build up for Brice to get BTA'd

Unless...you played the game, then wrote the story retro so it would match hmm. Also, Brice singing rat-ass Gunna tracks

Connie gonna implode when she connects the dots. prescription dependency loading

[Captain Canada]

Brice rapping Gunna lyrics to hype up his team had me rolling