“Yeah.” Pain twisted in my chest. “She knows. There was no mistaking the look she gave me.” If my secret got out, could it ruin my reputation at the school and especially with the helpline? What if they requested that I not volunteer there anymore? I swiped my face with my hands. “This is bad. I have to talk to him. I don’t know how many people he’s confided in, and you know how shit like that circulates.”
“I sure do, and I agree. You need to address this promptly.” He squeezed my shoulder and rocked me sideways. “But do it before the game, so you don’t suck as badly as last week.”
“Fuck off.” With a choked chuckle, my gaze rose to his, and I sank into my seat. “I’ll figure something out.”
“Good.” He dropped his arm to his side, the bus door closed, and the vehicle started moving.
We’d madeit through our chartered flight and a walk through at the Mississippi stadium and had some downtime at the hotel before our catered team dinner. Sometimes being on the road felt like royalty, and this was one of those times. The hotel was nicer than most, with marble floors and rich wood paneling in the common areas.
I’d wandered through hallways, across the restaurant and small shops, searching for any sign of Wren. I could probably ask our road manager about his room, but then I might come face to face with his girlfriend. Fuck that.
As I walked past a coffee shop, the back of Wren’s familiar brown hair came into view.
Wren, dressed in team sweats, ordered coffee with guess who? His fucking girlfriend.
“Damn it.” I stopped and watched from the edge of the wall. How could I get him alone?
After ordering their coffees, they moseyed to the end of the counter, chatting incessantly.
This was no good. I should leave. I glanced at them one last time and twisted.
“Hey, isn’t that Eli Dawson?” A woman’s voice said behind me.
“Fuck.” I cringed. Was it her or a fan? I had to find out and not look like a dick. As I swiveled on my heels, the girlfriend stepped closer to me.
“Yep.” With a broad grin, she advanced on me. “I’ll bet you’re looking for Wren. Am I right?” Her eyes, surrounded by thick lashes, twinkled.
“Um…” I snuck a glance at Wren, scowling atme. “Only if he wants to, uh, to talk to me.” How had all my training at the center, all my psychology studies, escaped me in this moment?
“Of course he does.” She snatched his arm at the elbow and hauled him toward me. “I’ll get the coffees. You talk.”
With his jaw dropped open, he glowered at her. “But?—”
“Behave.” She shook her finger at him. “You know you want to talk to him. Now do it.” She shoved him toward me.
He stumbled and righted himself only a foot away from me. With his lips tensing, he said, “What do you want?”
My pulse hammered in my temples. “I…I want to apologize for, for…” I glanced at his girlfriend. She obviously knew what had happened between us. But she wanted him to talk to me. It must mean she knew we had unfinished business.
“For being a complete and utter asshole in high school?” His glare locked on me as he planted his hands on his hips. “Apology not accepted. Nothing’s changed since then, so why would I forgive you now?”
“Wren!” The girlfriend stomped toward us with two coffees in her hands. “What the hell is wrong with you? Now you’re just as much of an asshole as he was. What did I tell you?”
His throat dipped with a hard swallow as he tossed her a quick glance.
Yep, she definitely knew the complete story. I breathed through a knot in my gut and straightened my spine. “Can we sit down somewhere and just…talk?”
“Here.” She handed him a coffee. “I’ll return to the room, so you two can hash this out.” With a harrumph, she stormed off.
“You’ve got five minutes, Dawson.” He sipped his coffee, his glare growing harder. “Make it good.”
My gaze swept the area. We needed somewhere private. A table with lounge chairs rested in an empty bar. “Let’s go over there.” I pointed as I strode toward it and then sat in a chair.
He dropped into the chair opposite mine and held his Apple Watch to his face. “Five minutes starts now.”
What the hell do I say? I remained tongue-tied as ever. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, you’ve said that.” Rolling his eyes, he drank his coffee.
