It makes sense. But I’m still scared that he’ll come after Sam.
“Option two,” he continues, all business. The man has a problem to solve and he’s going to try like hell to fix it. “You seek legal advice. I can get you a meeting with my lawyer.”
“I was thinking I could ask Nadine, Cal’s wife? If she’s not too busy.”
“That’s a great idea. Even if she is, I’m sure she’ll be able to advise you who you should talk to.”
I feel better already. It’s amazing what simply telling him has done for me. “And the third option?”
“You give me an airtight alibi and ten minutes alone with the bastard,” he growls. He leans forward and rests his forehead against mine. “Please pick option three.”
I smile, breathing him in. “I’ll think about it.”
“Whatever you decide, I’ll support you one hundred percent.”
“Thank you. Anything else you need to get off your chest.”
“I love you,” he murmurs, holding me close against him. “I didn’t need to tell you that. I just wanted to. You don’t need to?—”
“I love you too.”
His arms tighten around me and he exhales a shaky laugh. “In keeping with our honesty policy, I feel the need to tell you that you could do so much better.”
“Shut up and kiss me, Coach.”
“Yes, Boss.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
ARTHUR
I’m standingoutside my team captain’s condo, arm raised to knock. But I just can’t do it.
It’s just a family dinner. Why does it feel like it’s game seven in the finals? Worse even.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been to the finals before. Whereas a family dinner? Uncharted territory.
Sure, I ate meals with my parents growing up. I remember my mom sitting perfectly still, like she was silently begging the roast not to be overcooked. My dad would critique my latest game between bites. On his bad nights, when he had been drinking, he would skip the analysis altogether and go straight for the insults.
I roll my shoulders and lift my hand again. Any second now. The hot pink gift bag dangles from my fingers looking ridiculous. I should have bought something neutral. Sensible. But the pink had been impossible to ignore. Loud. Bright. So Elliot that I had to grab it.
A dog barks on the other side of the door, saving me from myself. I blink. Since when does Michaels have a dog?
The door flies open to reveal a grinning Ben. Samstands beside him, one hand gripping the collar of a very excited mutt. “It’s okay, Mr. Stetson. Cujo is friendly.”
I step inside and give the dog a solid pat on the head, his tail wagging like I’m his new best friend.
“Nice alarm system, Michaels.”
“He must have heard you in the hall,” Sam says happily. “C’mere, Cujo.” The mutt follows him back into the apartment looking pleased to be getting so much attention.
“They say dogs can smell fear, Coach.”
“What’s your point?”
Ben laughs. “Nothing. You just look terrified.”
“Shut it, Michaels.”
