Once they were alone, Tank sank back down on the bench, preparing himself for another of the coach’s dressing downs. His leg bounced impatiently, hating this delay. His plan for tonight was to go to McKenna’s house and beat on the door until she let him in—flu or not.
Tank wasn’t proud of himself for initially questioning whether she’d truly been sick. The problem was, he couldn’t forget how she’d avoided him for a week following their first night together. So now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed between them Monday night, and he was worried to death about her breaking things off.
By the time Wednesday arrived, his imagination had gone wild, and he was certain she was lying about the flu because she was angry and hurt by him showing up at the pub with Lara.
Those fears were alleviated when Blake’s girlfriend, Erika, who was an E.R. doctor, had stopped by to check on McKenna. According to Blake, McKenna had caught some bug that was going around, and the only thing she could do to combat it was sleep and drink plenty of fluids, while knocking the fever down with over-the-counter medications.
Knowing she really was sick, however, hadn’t made him feel much better. Since then, he’d texted constantly, offering to stop by to bring her soup or medicine or just to hang out with her. She’d forbidden him from coming anywhere near her place, saying she wasn’t about to give him the flu right before a playoff game. And while he knew she was right to keep him away, he hated knowing she was sick and alone, and that he was unable to help her.
So tonight, he was going to her place and laying his damn cards on the table. He was tired of pretending this relationship was fake. It was the most real thing he’d ever experienced in his life. It was time for him to stop being a fucking coward and tell her how he felt.
But first, he had to endure another lecture.
“You were distracted tonight,” Coach Fields said.
Tank nodded, because there was no point denying the obvious. His head hadn’t been in that game. Instead, he’d been focused on what came after. “I know, and I’m sorry about that. I’ve had some things on my mind this week and?—”
“Some things or someone?” Coach interjected.
Tank paused for a moment, because ever since his suspension, any friendly repertoire he and Dean Fields had shared evaporated. Which was why his question seemed too pointed and personal for their current coach/player relationship.
“Someone,” he begrudgingly admitted.
“McKenna?”
Tank wasn’t sure how to reply to that question, since he wasn’t sure how much his coach knew. Apart from him, McKenna, Benny, and Roger, he didn’t think anyone else had been told their relationship wasn’t real. Well, except for McKenna’s mom, whom she’d told in confidence.
Had Benny filled the coach in on the true nature of their relationship? Or at least, what Benny thought to be true?
“Yeah. McKenna.” Tank didn’t add anything more, because this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have with the man. Obviously, the coach wasn’t a fan of his. Earlier in the season, Tank might have considered sharing personal concerns, but no more.
“She’s different from your usual type,” Coach observed.
Again, Tank wasn’t sure what to make of this conversation. “She is.”
“And she’s the distraction?”
Tank nodded. “I fucked things up with her, let some shit go too far, but I’m going to take care of it tonight,” he said, hoping that would be enough to reassure his coach. “I swear by the next game, I’ll be back on track.”
“You’re going to take care of it?” Coach Fields didn’t seem as relieved by that answer as he would’ve hoped. In fact, he looked downright furious, though Tank couldn’t figure out why.
“Yes.”
Tank wasn’t sure what to make of the coach’s scowl, but he wasn’t in the mood to hang out any longer. He’d hit his limit on Coach Fields.
Besides, Tank had been away from McKenna for three whole days—days when she’d been sick and he couldn’t care for her, days when she may or may not have been upset with him over Lara, days when she continued to believe that this thing between them was fake.
“I need to go, Coach,” he said, rising. “I’m going to talk to McKenna, set things straight, and I swear by tomorrow, I’ll be fully focused on the playoffs.” That was a lie, because regardless of how tonight went, Tank was finding it harder and harder to get McKenna out of his mind.
He grabbed his duffel, heading toward the door of the locker room, intent on getting out of there. Now that he’d made up his mind to talk to her, he was anxious to get to the next part.
He’d made it to the open door when Coach Fields caught him by the arm, swinging him around with more force than Tank expected.
He found himself face-to-face with his now-furious coach. “I don’t know what you intend to say to her, but I swear to God, if you do or say anything to hurt Kenny, I will?—”
“Kenny?”
Coach released his arm, his resigned expression making it clear he hadn’t meant to say that.
