“All yours, Coach.” Cole raises his hands in mock surrender.
Cooper shakes his head, but there’s the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his mouth. “You’ll report to her office tomorrow at eight a.m. sharp for media training and interview prep. Whatever she tells you to do, you do it. Understood?”
“Got it.”
“There’s no morning practice, but I want you in the training room by eleven for fitness testing. Strength, agility, endurance… you know the drill.”
“Yes, sir.” I give him a mock salute, earning another snicker from Cole and Beau.
“Welcome to the team, kid,” Beau says as he stands, clapping a hand on my shoulder. His touch is solid and warm, and for a second, the knot in my chest eases.
Cole lingers by the door, grin crooked. “Try not to blow anything up before your first game.”
“Not making promises I can’t keep.”
They both laugh on their way out, voices fading down the hall, and just like that, the room quiets again.
Cooper doesn’t look at me right away. He stares at his coffee instead, then finally says, “I know I ride you hard. It’s not because I don’t think you can handle it.”
“I know.”
“You’ve got something special, Kyle. Always have. Don’t lose sight of why you’re here.”
“I won’t.” I swallow around the lump in my throat and nod.
“Good. Now get out of here and try not to be late tomorrow.”
“No promises.”
He flashes me another annoyed look before gathering his papers. “Go home, Rookie. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
I push to my feet, slinging my duffel over my shoulder. “Wouldn’t dream of being late twice in a row.”
“See that you don’t.” His mouth twitches like he wants to smile but won’t give me the satisfaction. “Close the door on your way out.”
“Yes, Coach.”
He shakes his head, muttering something that sounds a lot likesmartass, and I step into the hall. The door clicks shut behind me. For a second, I just stand there, staring at the blank screen of my phone, not yet ready to move. When it lights up, my chest tightens.
Unknown Number
Dinner is tonight at 7:00.
My grin comes fast, helpless. It’s stupid how just seeing her name—well, her number—can light me up like this.
I make no promises. Should I bring dessert or just my devastating charm?
The typing dots appear almost instantly, pulsing like a heartbeat. It’s ridiculous how that tiny thing makes mine kick harder.
Unknown Number
Bring pie. The charm is overrated.
I huff out a laugh, one shoulder propped against the cool plaster of the wall.
Harsh, sweetheart. Guess I’ll have to bribe you.
Unknown Number
