On that, we agreed. I raised an eyebrow. “So, you wanted to help me get home by following me?”
“Yes, no—shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done this again. Sydney warned me last time.”
“Last time?” He wasn’t making sense, and then it clicked. “Theodore Valentine, were you the one following me home a few nights ago?”
“Not just me. Rowan was driving, and we just wanted to make sure you got home safe, and?—”
I turned away from him, continuing to walk. “Go home.”
“Wait, don’t you want…” His voice trailed off weakly, and I glanced over just in time to see him nearly stumble. He caught himself on a light post, his body swaying slightly.
“Shit.” I rushed toward him, bending to meet his eyes. Some people recovered quickly from concussions. For others, though, it could take weeks or even months. I’d seen it before—the dizziness, the brain fog, the headaches.
“Should you even be driving?” I asked, gesturing to his car.
“Probably not.”
I studied him for a moment longer before holding out my hand. “Keys.”
“What?”
“Give me your keys, Valentine. If you and I are both stuck here while the team’s on the road trip, I’m not going to let you get in a car accident and kill yourself on my watch.”
“I’m touched by your concern.”
“Don’t be. I’m your coach. It’s my job.” I snatched the keys out of his hand and slid under his arm to help support someof his weight. By the time I got him into the passenger seat, I realized I hadn’t driven in over a decade. This would be interesting.
There was no way I was driving Teddy’s sleek BMW across the bay bridge, so there was only one other place to take him. He smiled lazily at me as I parked on the street in front of my townhome. “It looks prettier in the daytime.” That smile, those unfocused eyes—he was hardly with me.
“Guardian,” I suddenly said, remembering he had a dog at home.
“Sydney has him this week. Something about me needing to rest.”
The same thing Shai had said to me. “Okay, come on, big guy. Out of the car.”
He didn’t protest as I ran around to his side, helping him out. I forced him up the steps and through the gate. At the front door, I fumbled with my keys, second-guessing every decision that had led me here. I never allowed members of the team to come to my house. It was my biggest rule. Griff did, as did Sullivan and Remy, but that was a luxury they had as male coaches in a men’s league. Me? I had to be more careful.
With a sigh, I unlocked the door and pushed it open.
Teddy stumbled inside, his eyes coming into sharper focus as he took in every detail, from the peeling paint on the walls to the worn banister on the winding staircase.
“Not what I expected from you, Coach.”
“Oh yeah? And how did you think I lived?”
He shrugged. “Not sure how to answer that without sounding like an ass.”
“Say what you want to say.” I had no patience for half-answers.
“I don’t know… I expected somewhere… sterile, cold.”
That froze me in my steps. I know, ironic turn of phrase. Cold. That was how the team saw me—angry, probably. Definitely a hard ass. And now, standing in my foyer, was probably the most well-liked guy on the team. I saw the way he was with others—warm, caring. They genuinely liked him, thought he was a good person.
Unlike me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TEDDY
