“Message received, Coach.” He emphasized my title this time, his voice laced with a hint of something sharper. “Don’t forget,” he winked, “brain injury.” He tapped his head. “Let’s chalk it up to that, yeah?”
But this time, when he smiled, something was off. There was a falseness behind it.
I’d watched Teddy interact with his team, with the fans, for years. That ever-present grin of his? It was genuine. He was happy, always. He liked making people feel good, even when it annoyed the hell out of me. I’d admired it, wondering how someone could move through life with so much joy and still have enough left to share.
But right now, I wasn’t so sure.
I knew about his crappy parents. I’d witnessed the epic Thanksgiving meltdown between them and Sydney. Not to mention the aftermath—when Teddy got trashed and hit on me without seeming to even recognize who I was in that moment.
Yet, it all seemed to roll off him, just like this.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, needing a change of subject.
“Kind of dumb, actually.”
I couldn’t help but smile, the edges of my lips curving despite myself. “I meant your head.”
He just stared at me, and I sighed.
“Concussion symptoms?”
“Oh, that. Yeah, kind of like shit, actually.” He ran a hand through his thick, blond hair, messing it up even more. “Head’s swimming a bit. Oh, hey, what are we going to do about my car?”
“I’m not giving it back until you can prove you’re okay to drive.”
He crossed his arms, leaning back, and smirked. “Bossy.” The side of his mouth twitched up, and that damn smirk shot straight into my bloodstream.
Damn, he was trouble.
“Someone has to be,” I replied. “Otherwise, you’ll end up driving off the side of the Bay Bridge, and I’ll have to explain to Griff why I didn’t make sure you had a babysitter.”
“Rude.”
“True.”
“Fine, yeah.” He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “You really think I’m an idiot, don’t you?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but he kept going.
“I know I act like nothing bothers me, but I’m still a person, Frankie.” His use of my name instead of “Coach” jolted me upright. “For some reason, you don’t like me. You never have. And I get it. I can be hard to take. I push your buttons. I just… Really, I don’t know what I’m saying. I learned a long time ago how impossible it is to change someone’s opinion of you once it’s set.”
He wasn’t smiling now. The words hung in the air, heavy, each one sending a stab of guilt through me. I had always been harder on him than anyone else, but it was because I thought he could take it. Something about him, some part of him, had always made me want to yell, to channel all the anger I’d built up over the years onto him.
“It’s okay,” he said when I took too long to respond. “You might hate me, Coach, but I definitely don’t hate you.”
His words hung in the air between us—an invitation and a warning.
The doorbell rang, snapping the moment in two.
I turned on the porch light and peered through the peephole. Standing there was Sydney, looking much more serious than herbrother. She was as different from him as one could get—sweet, awkward, and not charming in the least.
I opened the door, and she immediately rushed in, throwing her arms around me. “Frankie, you are a lifesaver.” Her grip tightened around me, and I froze. Very few people had hugged me since I was a teenager. Affection, platonic or otherwise, didn’t come easy to me.
She didn’t seem to notice I wasn’t hugging her back. Instead, she released me with a tired smile. “I told that idiot he shouldn’t be driving, let alone all the way into the city. But does the dumbass ever listen to me?” A sharp bark echoed behind her, and I glanced out the door to see Guardian’s head sticking out of the window.
These two, and that dog.
“Hey!” Teddy protested from behind me. “Dumbass is right here. Try being a little nicer.”
