I must have left him hanging too long while I tried to process the new information.
“Looking for an excuse to get out of it? Please go ahead. I don’t have any desire to be involved in this any more than you do, but I’m not backing out.”
It’s a struggle, but I swallow down the retort battling to escape. I’m not going to let him goad me into messing this up for the team. Whatever this donor thinks of the men’s team, those guys never seem to lack funds for their program. Lucrative financial opportunities for the women’s team are not so easy to find.
I’m not sure what to make of him, though. He’s leaning back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest in a pose that should look relaxed and arrogant but instead gives him a tense and trapped look. I thought he was unreadable, but the way he’s got his arms wrapped around himself and the way his eyes are darting back and forth between me and the door is clear. And is that a bead of sweat forming on his perfect brow? He looks almost vulnerable.
“I can make Wednesday work.” I can do my weekly livestream from the arena while the guys are practicing. My followers mightactually dig that. I’ll give them a little tour and maybe even give them a brief glimpse of the men’s practice.
He’s out of his chair so fast he almost leaves smoke behind. “Make sure you’re on time.”
Any hint of sympathy is crushed under the weight of that comment, and I almost let the fuck you slip out this time. What a total ass.
Chapter 4
Break & Reset
Beau
I’mbarelyclearofthe door before I break into a run. Sweat drips down my forehead, stinging my eyes, but I ignore it as I grope for the closest door. The handle gives under my hand after a second attempt, and I stumble through. The harder I try to catch my breath, the more I feel like I’m drowning. My vision spots. I can’t go down. I’ve lost track of where I am.
I glance around trying to find something, anything to pull me out of this, but other than the thin sliver of light under the door, there’s only darkness. I fumble around the walls, damp palms slipping over the surface. Pain bursts between my eyes, my forehead slamming into a metal shelf, and I’m shocked aware for the briefest moment by the sting. Phone. I grab my phone out of my pocket, double tapping the back to activate the flashlight. My head is throbbing, but it’s pulled me out of the attack enough that I can finally catch a breath. The air tastes sweeter as I gulp in a lungful.
I’m able to take in the small space I’ve ended up in. Neat rows of cleaning supplies and paper products sit on the metalshelf that knocked me back to my senses. There’s a mop leaning against the back wall next to a sink set in the floor.
I drop down in front of the tap, cranking the cold water to splash over my face. The icy shock rips a gasp from me but does its job, pulling me the rest of the way out of it, and I lean back on my heels, shivers ripping through me now.
My knees are shaky as I shuffle back over to the door, letting myself slip to the floor. The clock on my phone tells me only about fifteen minutes have passed. It felt more like an hour. She’s probably still in the building. No one can see me like this, so I let my head fall against the door, concentrating on taking slow breaths to ease my racing heart and trembling hands. I’ll wait it out for a bit before heading home. I’m in no condition to drive anyway, and I don’t even know who I’d call to give me a ride. Cece is the only one who has ever seen me like this, but now that she’s with Dev... I can’t. I just can’t let him see me like this. His team captain.
I’ve counted every single item on the metal shelving twice when my phone lights up with a notification.
Cole: Is your meeting over? Could use a hand.
My back snaps into position. Cole needs a hand. He’s done so much for the team this year. Things that I should have handled.
Me: What’s up?
Cole: Mabel's not feeling it today. Maybe a jump?
Cole inherited the rusty old excuse for a vehicle from Jacks after he graduated, but she’s very temperamental. Some days she just won’t start.
My fingers snag in my damp hair when I run a hand through it, trying to straighten out the mess.
Me: You in the players’ lot?
Cole: Yup
Me: Give me fifteen.
Cole: K
The rough floor scrapes my palms as I push myself up, testing my legs to make sure they’re steady. Everything in order, I rise, stretching my arms over my head. Anyone could be waiting outside the door, so I ease it open, dipping out when I see the way is clear. There’s no sign of life in the dimly lit hallway, so I hurry down it. The creak of the metal door echoes down the vacated floor. It puts me on edge again, but I have a purpose now, so I keep moving, taking the steps two at a time.
“Whitaker. You’re still here? Did you get in an extra workout after practice?” Coach’s booming voice matches the intensity of his hand landing on my back. It’s hard to keep the wince under control. I’m still a little off-kilter, sounds and touches amplified. But I’ve had years of practice masking my reactions. Whitakers don’t show weakness.
“Yes.”
“You’re always such a great example for your team. Good on you. How’d it go with your new partner?”
