“I can’t fucking move,” Deacon says.
“Hey, man. If you don’t marry that girl, I’ll make you regret it,” Banks says.
I chuckle. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate you.”
“You went there. You’re either brave or stupid as fuck,” another one says.
“In love,” says another one.
I don’t reply. They’re all right.
Coach Parker’s voice booms from the other side of the field. “Weston, get your ass in my office.”
“Good luck, you’ll need it,” Roman says and even makes the sign of the cross my way—the jester.
I stand up, every muscle screaming from overuse.
I am right behind him, but he keeps ignoring me. When we reach his office, he opens the door and shuts it with such force that it almost rips the door from its hinges.
He paces around his office as if to gather his thoughts. I remain perfectly still—a convict awaiting his verdict, pleading not guilty while faced with damning evidence.
Striding to his desk, he sinks into his chair and slams his fists on the top. The items bounce around like rubber balls. This is bad.
“What the fuck were you thinking?”
“Coach—” I try, but he cuts me off.
He lifts a finger. “I’m not done talking. Apparently, you haven’t been listening to a fucking word I’ve said since the beginning of the preseason. Your name is plastered all over the internet, some saying this is not how a football player should behave, losing his cool and starting a fight.”
Staring me down, he shakes his head as if clearing his mind. Poker face on, I simply listen to his rant, not feeling as guilty as he wants me to be.
“Now my name is out there, thinking my player and my daughter are together, and I am too lenient with you. What would you do in my place? Because the owner and the PR department are in fucking tizzy over you. The star quarterback who couldn’t stay away from the coach’s daughter. I’m a laughingstock.”
He pants heavily, and I inhale deeply. This could go from bad to catastrophically worse within seconds.
“I’m not sorry, Coach.”
“You’re not sorry?” he snickers.
The sarcasm isn’t lost on me.
I take a step toward him, looking him dead in the eyes. “I’m not sorry for defending Lilly. It’s not in my nature to let some asshole disrespect my girl. The woman I love.” The words rush out, blasting from the vault where I kept them locked down.
There, I said it, and the weight I’ve carried with me disappears, making me feel lighter.
He hikes a brow. “You love her more than football? Shall I test that?”
“I can have both and I will have both,” I say, determination filling up my chest that expands with each breath.
His eyes bore into me, the wrath in them scalding. “You might be talented, but football is a team sport. Pissing off your head coach would be really stupid.”
I cross my arms over my chest and spread my legs, holding my ground. “I can tell you with absolute certainty that if you ask me to stay away from Lilly, I won’t.”
His chest shakes with barely contained fury. “Get out. I’ll tell you about my decision soon.”
Fuck, I get he’s angry at me, but I feel like I need to save the situation, not because he’s my coach but because he’s Lilly’s father.
Inhaling deeply, I place my palms on his desk, bending nearer to him, so he can see how earnest I am. “I’m sorry I disappointed you. It was never about that or disrespecting you. Lilly and I met five years ago, and now that I’ve found her, I won’t lose her again. I tried, Coach, but I can’t stay away. Fighting my feelings for her is not only exhausting, it’s in vain.” I seek his eyes, not breaking eye contact. I need him to see how serious I am and about my intentions. “So, whatever you decide, I’m going to accept it. I love your daughter. Just give me a chance to prove those aren’t just empty words.”
