I’m sliding my laptop into my bag when Cole tosses out, “Oh, by the way, Coop wants to see you.”
“See me? Why?”
Heat prickles along my spine. Worst-case scenarios flare faster than I can stop them: complaints, mistakes, a rookie whining to management. It’s never nothing. When the head coach wants to see you, it’s a closed door and a stomach knot.
“Could be anything.”
“Relax. It’s not the principal’s office,” Beau says, smirking.
“Feels like it.”
The brothers share a quick look—one of those silent sibling conversations—and I catch it before it disappears. “You two know something.”
“Maybe,” Cole says.
“No, not maybe. Tell me.”
Beau laughs, already heading toward the door. “Sorry, Torres. Classified.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Annoying,” Cole corrects with a wink, “and that’s our big-brother privilege.”
Something catches in my chest at that. I’ve never had brothers or anyone to step between me and the world. It’s infuriating how easily they slip into protector mode, like I’m a kid sister who needs guarding. And still—beneath the irritation—there’s a flicker of something small and wanting. I shove it down before it shows.
The door closes behind them, and the room exhales with me. Pride warms through my chest; I owned that room. But the warmth fades quickly, replaced by a familiar curl of doubt. The sharp buzz of my phone startles me. It skitters against the desk, lighting up with a name that knots my stomach tighter.
Mom.
Of course, she is calling me now. Her name lights up the screen with the same sinking weight it always brings. I silence the call before the sound can split me open. I’ll deal with her later. Right now, I have another storm waiting.
I make my way down the hall toward the elevator to head up to Cooper’s office, nerves tightening with each step. The photos lining the walls, the team’s biggest moments frozen in time, make the hallway feel colder. I stop at his door, square my shoulders, and knock before I second-guess myself.
“Come in.”
Cooper sits behind his desk, solid and broad-shouldered, with the same build as his brothers. Brown hair a few shades lighter than Cole’s, warm eyes, and a scar that makes him look more rugged than intimidating. Hecould be stern if he wanted, but the faint crow’s feet soften him. I shut the door behind me, stomach tight.
“Why do you look like you’re walking into a firing squad?” he asks, voice light. “Relax. You’re not in trouble.”
“I feel like I’m back in school.”
“Then I should start handing out gold stars.” His smirk eases some of the tension.
“So… why am I here?”
“My brothers didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
He mutters something under his breath. “Figures. Between Cole stirring up trouble and Beau pretending he doesn’t, I should’ve known better.”
Before I can stop myself, I let out a short laugh. The sound eases the air between us.
“Anyway,” he says, leaning back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “You’ve been running point on the rookie media program for a while, and you’ve handled it better than anyone could’ve expected.”
The praise catches me off guard, landing heavier than I expect. Compliments in this job are rare. But compliments from Cooper Hendrix are almost unheard of.
I don’t know how to respond, so I straighten my spine and force my voice to steady. “Thank you.”
