"What happened out there? I get it. It shouldn't have happened," Sloan admitted, staring at the asphalt floor. "None of it. The guy being so close to you, me confronting him, or you feeling like you got upstaged at your own event."
He looked up at me with those damn puppy eyes, and the good dose of mad I'd been nursing disintegrated.
"We're married, but we're equals in this relationship. And people like that are going to be everywhere," I said, stepping into his space and dropping my forehead against his chest.
He pulled me against him. "But he was here, and I was here, and I didn't think. I just acted. I'm sorry about that."
"It would be so much easier to stay angry at you if you'd argue with me about this." I stepped back because I had interviews to get to.
He pulled his lips between his teeth. "The media loves me when they get a whiff of a scandal. This won't go in my favor. We both know that."
"Since we're a team, it won't get edited in my favor either," I said, deflated.
"I am sorry," he apologized once more. "I promise not to do that again."
I nodded and headed back to my team. Hans stood there, and he didn't look pleased, but he rarely looked pleased, so that wasn't anything new.
"Maya," Sloan called my name.
I turned back to him.
"Are we good?" he asked.
I nodded. "We're good."
* * *
SLOAN
After all was done, and I was headed back to Denver, Elliott made sure I understood no one was happy about this turn of events. The Stallions weren't pleased about the photos—that looked a fuckuva lot worse than they should've—of me tearing Maya's "fan" a new asshole. A couple of new endorsement deals were now on the fritz. Elliott was pissed that he would have to smooth things over. Again.
Maya deserved someone more levelheaded than I'd been, and I promised to be that man.
The cherry on top of the shit sundae was that I was getting chewed the fuck out again, and I wished it was Maya doing the chewing because at least she was fun to look at while she laid into me.
"You aren't security," Coach yelled, throwing his clipboard on the desk and shoving his hands on his hips. "What the fuck were you thinking?"
"I wasn't," I answered. "I wasn't thinking."
After I got off the plane, my escort took me straight to his office in Denver so he could let me know how badly I'd screwed up.
"You want some jackass to come on the field and play your position for you?" Coach was getting red in the face, but even I knew he was only getting started.
I knew better than to say anything, so I just shook my head to answer his question.
"No. You don't want that," he said, pacing the room. "Because you're a professional, and that's your job. But now, you're a security guy? You can just hop into any situation where there's a need for security and handle it all by yourself?"
He paused, and I guessed now, it was my turn to respond. Which was good because I was ready for this to be over.
"Coach." I held up my hands. "I didn't know there was enough security. I was worried. I got scared he'd get to Maya. He spat at her, and I lost my cool. I didn't handle the situation the way you or Maya would've liked. For that, I'm sorry."
All the heated anger seemed to get sucked out of the room.
"There's no attitude?" Coach asked, more than a little deflated.
"Nah." I shook my head. "I'm genuinely sorry that I caused trouble for Maya and trouble for the team. Maya and I worked it out, and I hope you know this won't happen again. If I gotta run sprints, I'll do it. You wanna give me a fine and suspend me from the next game? It'll suck, and I think it's the wrong call, but I get that it's not my call to make. Whatever you decide, I understand. No hard feelings from me."
That brought Coach up short.
