Zane
Itext Blair “good morning” in the Uber on my way to the stadium, and don’t pocket my phone until I get out, waiting for a reply. I’m running late for our weight session, but it’s hard to be bothered by that with the taste of Blair’s lips still at the forefront of my mind.
My phone buzzes as I enter the locker room, and I smile like a sap before I’ve even read her reply.
“Fitzpatrick!” Coach Pierce’s booming voice pulls me to a stop mid-step, my hand hovering in midair. Fuck. I internally groan. I was sure the locker room would be empty by now, but of course it’s not. “Is your watch broken?” he asks, his voice gruff.
I don’t actually wear a watch, but something tells me that now is not the best time to mention that fact. “It’s recovery.” I shrug, making it worse. Like my response is set to cockiness autopilot. “I’ll make up the time at the end of the day.”
“That’s not how this works. We do recovery as a team.”
“I missed twenty minutes; I’m sure they’ve survived without me. Unlike the game yesterday.” I mumble the last bit and immediately regret it.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, unlike the game yesterday, Coach.”And fuck, he is fuming.
“I heard you the first time, but I’m here to tell you…theteamwon. It’s not an individual sport.”
The disappointment on his face has me flinching and my shoulders drop. “Just tell me the fine and I’ll pay it.”
“God, you’re a—” He stops abruptly, glancing at something over my shoulder,somethingorsomeonebehind me. I don’t dare look; I’ve already dug myself a big enough grave. But at least I’m here. I’d much rather be with Blair—there’s still so much to talk about.
Coach Pierce growls under his breath before shaking his head. “Get dressed and catch up with your teammates. You know, the guys you’resupposedto care about.”
What?I balk. Guilt gone. He didnotjust say that. “Are you suggesting I don’t care? What about Reed? Did Inotcare when I came to his rescue? Was that menotcaring when I tackled Landon to the ground, suffering a stab wound to my side?”
“If you truly cared about Reed”—he lowers his voice as he takes a step closer—“you wouldn’t be fucking around right now, risking your spot on the team, while he’s too injured to be here. He’d do anything to take your place and you’re wasting it.”
“You say that as if it’smyfault he can’t play.”Jesus. Why the hell can’t I keep my mouth shut?
“No, I’m—”
“Pierce,” our new GM, Wes, calls out from behind me. “I need a word with Zane.”
Huh?I spin around, my eyes wide while Wes’s gaze remains on Coach.
“Take him, but he needs to make up time for the weight session he missed, or I might not be able to play him.”
“Come with me,” Wes says, his attention shifting my way as he ignores Pierce’s threat. I want to ask why, but with the no bullshit look in his eyes, I follow without question.
This can’t be good.
We’re both silent as Wes leads me to his office, his stride confident, his unidentifiable expression never once wavering. I can’t tell if he’s pissed off or genuinely doesn’t care.
When we reach the door, he nods, gesturing for me to walk inside before closing the door behind us. And the second we’re alone, his expression morphs into a grin. “So…Zane.” He pats the table as he sits down, his gaze light and a little unnerving. “I’m not sure you’re aware, but Dylan spoke to my wife about a job for a friend of yours, and now she won’t stop talking about it.”
“The fuck?”This is about Blair?Wes frowns at my response and I rush to apologize. “Sorry.” I grimace. “I clearly forgot who I was talking to.”
Wes chuckles before leaning back in his chair. “From what I’ve heard about you, I doubt you’re sorry at all.”
“You’re right. I’m not sorry about that; I just didn’t want to fuck things up for Blair.”
“That’s nice of you, but I can assure you, Lucy wouldn’t let that happen. She said, and I quote, ‘I don’t even know her but I got the impression she was sad and I’m worried. I think she needs this new start.’”
“Wow.”
“Yep, and if you knew Lucy, you’d understand that she’s not going to let up until she knows your friend is okay. Actually no, more than that, she’d want to know that she’s good. Great even.” He huffs, but a small smile pulls at his lips and I’d say he lovesthat about her. “What I need fromyouis reassurance that your friend is in factgreat, and that you’ll talk to her about the job.”
