I don’t know if she’s seen it, but I sure as shit deleted it in case she hasn’t. He won’t leave her alone, and there’s nothing I can do about it beyond throwing empty threats.
The longer I lean against the wall waiting for Jack to show up, the more pissed off I get. I have no proof that it’s him, so it’s not like I can make a complaint to the league or the authorities. No one would believe me.
Everyone knows I have it out for Jack because I’m more of a cunt to him than anyone else, and any complaint I lodge will make it seem like I’m stirring shit just to be a problem.
It takes about ten minutes for him to stroll through the doors and down the hall, eyes glued to his phone.
“Jack.” His eyes snap up to mine. “We need to talk.” There’s a flicker of hope that I’d swipe off his face for free, but it slides right off when I keep speaking. “Leave her alone.” I jump straight into it.
It’s not the first time I’ve told him, but I intend for this to be the last time.
The only reason I haven’t put his head through a window is because he’s been slowly bothering her less.
“What?” His brows pinch in confusion.
He did this last time too. “Don’t play fucking stupid with me,” I bite out. It doesn’t matter how low I try to keep my voice, it carries through the concrete hallway. “The author. Stay the fuck away from her.”
“Duval,” a familiar voice echoes.
Oh fucking hell. Where the shit did Coach come from?
I narrow my eyes at Jack. I’d put money down on him knowing his dad was right behind him. Cunt.
“Good, you’re here. You got a minute?” Coach nods in the direction of his office.
It’s a true testament to my patience that I manage not to give him a blank look. He’s the one who sets my schedule. Even if Idon’t have a minute, I’m going to have to speak with him. Which can only mean he’s taking the “catch flies with honey” approach, rather than holding a gun to my head to tell me what to do.
Jack’s leering stare sticks to my skin as I follow Coach up the stairs and into the administration portion of the building, far from where Jack should be, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I turned around and found him two feet away.
Coach tries in vain to make small talk that’s not reciprocated beyond more than one-word responses. He gives up sooner than I expect, which only gives me more time to list all the things he could be wanting to discuss.
When he tells me to take a seat, I throw him a bone and lower myself into the uncomfortable chair as he settles into his on the opposite side of the desk. His lips are pursed in discomfort as if he’s trying to find the right words.
He clears his throat. “Your teammates have expressed concerns regarding your focus lately.” Jack. Jack has expressed concerns. “Frankly, I’ve been noticing the same thing.”
I cock a brow at him, maintaining eye contact. Has he now? Last I checked, I’ve been playing the best I have in my entire career, even though I have no chemistry with any of my teammates.
My performance is all owed to Mina and knowing she’s watching me play. I can’t very well disappoint her, now can I?
Coach dials up his fatherly demeanor, and I just about introduce him to my fist. It aggravates me every fucking time he thinks he might replace my dad. There’s no doubt in my mind that he knows about what I was accused of when I was younger.
I think he might even pity me since he reached out to check on me a year after it all went down.
“There comes a point in every man’s life when he needs to decide what his priorities are. For some, it’s their family. Then they look at whether it’s by providing for them or being present.For others, it’s becoming the best they can be and making a name for themselves, and for those people, sometimes they need a reminder of what they’re after, so they don’t lose sight of what they want.”
A muscle in my jaw twitches. “Is this a reminder?”
“Women come and go. Your position in the league doesn’t.”
This fucking?—
I take a deep breath and focus on keeping my hands uncurled. Jack more or less said the same thing: women are a distraction.
So, what? Jack couldn’t control me by himself, so he got his daddy involved to deal with me for him? Fuck him. Fuck them both.
“Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?” I manage to get my words out cool, and not like I want to end the Norton line.
It’s a toss-up between “no” and “actually, let’s discuss your lack of friends within the team and how you fucking hate my son.” Thankfully, he stands, grabs a clipboard, and gestures for me to follow him out the door.
