I let the bomb drop.
The reaction is immediate.
Gasps of shock and disbelief echo around the table.
“What?”
“You’re not serious.”
“Talia? Coach’s daughter?”
“You’re banging Coach’s daughter?” The last one, of course, is Connor.
I shrug, because what else can I say?
Rhys whistles under his breath. “That explains so much.”
Misha shakes his head slowly. “You are insane.”
Declan grins. “Bold strategy.”
Connor is still staring at me like I just confessed to robbing a bank. “You’re either the bravest man alive or the dumbest.”
“Probably both,” Rhys says.
Marcus lifts his beer. “To Jake Morrison,” he declares. “The only guy in the league with the balls to date the coach’s daughter.”
I groan and take another long drink, grateful when the conversation finally shifts to Elara and Rhys’s wedding.
We order another round, and soon a soft buzz settles into my system.
But my thoughts drift.
I picture her at home. Wondering what she’s doing.
Music playing softly in the background.
Paint on her fingers.
Sitting cross-legged in front of the easel in the living room, brow furrowed in concentration.
I can see it so clearly it almost feels like I’m there.
And suddenly I don’t want to be here.
I want to be home.
With my wife.
The server drops another round on the table.
I don’t touch mine.
“I’m heading out,” I say, sliding out of the booth.
Five heads snap up at once.
Connor smirks. “Translation: he misses Talia.”
