"No attitude at all?" Coach asked, disappointed that he didn't get to continue reading me the riot act.
"Promise," I assured. "Look, I'm not sorry for what I said to the guy. But I know I made an unpleasant situation worse with how I handled it. Next time, I'll let the professionals deal with it."
"Well…" Coach obviously didn't know what to do with me.
"We good?" I asked the same question I'd given Maya.
Coach nodded, squinting at me like he didn't believe what he was seeing. "We're good."
Hands in my pockets, head down, I started to walk away, but Coach cleared his throat. "You showed more restraint than I would've if he'd spat at my wife."
I nodded. "Well, then we both have shit to work on."
"I guess we do," he said.
"Is that a smile? 'Cause it looks like you're smiling, and the coach I know doesn't smile when he's letting me have it." I shrugged.
"Yeah, well, I guess we both have shit to work on," Coach said, gruff as fuck, before going back to his mess of a desk.
"Hey, Sloan?" he asked.
"Yeah?"
"I'm proud of you," he said, holding my gaze with his.
I would never admit this to anyone, but my throat got all clogged up at his words, and I had to choke back the emotion that had no business in a locker room.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
MAYA
Our schedules didn't line up, at all and when Sloan was available to talk, I was on stage or getting ready to go on stage or in the VIP tent doing a meet and greet. When I was available to talk, he was in practice, a game, or a post-game interview.
Maya: I missed your call. I can tlk now?
Sloan: heading 2 practice. Talk in a couple hours?
Maya: Show prep then. Sry
Sloan: I miss you
Maya: Miss u 2
* * *
Sloan: your voicemail made my night.
Maya: I swear soon we'll catch a break and get to tlk
Sloan: I miss you
Maya: miss u 2
* * *
Maya: Heading to bed. I'm spent.
Sloan: …
