"Fucked this one up, didn't you, son?"
Oh. My. Shit. Mr. Macintosh brushed past me, picked up a mug that had been resting on top of the puzzle I'd spent hours finishing a few nights ago, and sat calmly on the sofa.
My eyes found Frankie's, helpless. She looked dejected, her normally rigid shoulders dropping just the slightest bit. Her lips pressed into a flat line, no emotion showing in those cold eyes.
I used to think this was who she was—the strong, distant coach who kept everyone at arm’s length. But I knew better now. Orphaned at sixteen, forced to carve out her own existence, she’d built those walls because she had no choice. Except with me. With me, she let those doors crack open. Little by little, she’d shown me the real Frankie. But now? Now, those doors had slammed shut with a finality that knocked the wind out of me.
Patting my bare stomach, I plastered on the grin I knew they expected. The one that could mask the nerves, the one that made me seem unbothered. Happy Teddy. Calm Teddy. Flippant Teddy. "Please tell me there's coffee." I flashed a grin at each stony face. "You guys saved some for me, right? Sullie, don't tell me you drank it all."
Sullivan sighed, looking more resigned than angry. He wasn’t surprised—this was the mess he knew I’d get myself into.Screwing up. Sticking my dick where it didn’t belong. Except, in my mind, it did belong. With her.
Mr. Mac, of all people, saved the day, reaching over with his mug and passing it to me. "You need this more than I do, kid."
I perched on the arm of the couch beside him, taking the coffee with a grateful nod. "You know, I haven’t been a kid in a very long time."
Griff was a hell of a coach, but he was a terrible speaker. So, it didn’t surprise me when he began with, "For fuck’s sake, you two. Did either of you really think this was a good idea?"
Frankie sank into a chair she must have dragged from the kitchen, looking like she regretted everything. "I'm sorry. It was a mistake. A lapse in judgment."
"Fuck that." I cursed again when I burned my tongue on the coffee then blew out a frustrated breath.
"Ted—" Sullivan started.
"No." I shot him a glance, wishing again I had a shirt for this conversation. "Will someone tell me what the hell is going on here? Why the hell are you all suddenly part of my walk of shame? Not that I’m ashamed. Who ratted me out about getting with Coach? Was it Ryder? That brown-nosing bastard of a captain. I’m gonna?—"
Coach Remy handed me his phone, and I froze when I saw the video playing on the screen. It was from one of those accounts that had exploded after we hit viral fame with our post-game dancing. I hit play, and we all listened as the voice on screen described the scandal: "Frankie left her fiancé to sleep with one of her players."
"Oh." I swallowed hard. Yeah, that definitely wasn’t good.
“Oh?” Griff said, snatching Remy’s phone. “OH?Fucking Christ, Valentine, it was on the local news this morning.” The local news had a morning talk show with a segment they calledGuardian Gossip.Like I said,internet fame.Except, it had spiraled into the city becoming borderline obsessed with us.
I hadn’t exactly thought through the consequences of that before now.
“That’s… not good.”
Frankie closed her eyes with a sigh, and I knew I was saying all the wrong things. But what did they expect from me? A signed confession with a promise never to do it again? Because, yeah, that wasn’t happening.
“Does it matter that I’m in love with her?”
All three male coaches cursed simultaneously. Frankie buried her face in her hands. Mr. Mac pried the mug from my fingers. “I was wrong,” he hissed. “You don’t deserve this.”
I scratched down my chest absentmindedly, still unsure of what I’d done so wrong. Being in love with her was a good thing, right? It could help us spin the story.
“Teddy,” Griff barked. “Stop flexing your chest and put a damn shirt on.”
I looked down, confused. “I’m not doing anything, Coach.” But then, I saw it. My pecs twitched involuntarily, like they were dancing. “Well, damn. Would you look at that?”
“Get out of this room, so help me. And don’t come back until you’re wearing some fucking clothes.”
Griff, the softie. I shrugged. “Your wish is my command.” I loped upstairs, pulling on a shirt. Yanking on socks, I stumbled back down the stairs.
Only Mr. Mac remained in the living room, sipping his coffee like it was the only thing keeping him sane. I could hear murmurs from the kitchen, but I didn’t dare go in there—not with a room full of angry coaches. I was terrible at dealing with conflict. Honestly, it made me embarrassingly giddy, like I couldn’t stop the ridiculous things that came out of my mouth.
Mr. Mac didn’t even turn to look at me before speaking. “You’re some kind of stupid, aren’t you?”
“Why?” I walked forward, staring at the puzzle now sporting a ring from the bottom of a mug. “Because I had the audacity to fall for a beautiful woman my own age? Call the cops.”
He grunted, shaking his head. “Because you told her you love her in a room full of people who want to wring both your necks.”
