Beckett nodded. “Right, and this has nothing to do with what Lillian Williams is wearing?” “Mind your own business,” I warned him. “The team is my business, and Josh isn’t a bad junior player. Stop trying to cripple him.” “If I wanted to cripple him, it’d be done already. This is just a friendly warning to keep his jersey, and his intentions, to himself.” “Cade,” Beckett started.
