I nod once, voice still even. “If that’s what you need to do, then go ahead and do it.”
He throws a hand up, voice rising higher. “Are you not listening to a word I’m saying, Will?! Or are you too fucking cocky to recognize how your actions are going to fuck up Drew’s life?”
“Maybe I’m just too fucking gone for her,” I reply.
Coach’s brows shoot to his hairline. “What did you just say?”
All I do is fucking smile. I smile at the way she wraps her legs around my waist and clings to me as I walk us around the room. I smile at the way her breath hitches right before I kiss her. The night we spent cuddling on the couch and the dirty things shedid to me on the gondola. I smile because I know I’m in love with Drew Callaghan, and nothing can beat or change this feeling.
“Are you two dating?”
I swallow thickly, desperate to say yes, yet equally determined not to lie.
“Iwantto date her, but your daughter is smart and putting me through my paces.”
A proud smile traces his lips. If I’m ever lucky enough to become a father, Jessie Callaghan would make the ideal blueprint, alongside my own dad.
“She’s scared that the whole thing will blow up in her face. We’re both aware of the risks.”
Coach interlaces his fingers, deep in thought. “If you plan to carry this on, then you need to do the right thing and end your professional affiliation. Now.”
“I’m leaving that decision to Drew.” I roll my lips together. “And I’ll support her regardless. I won’t let her career be affected in any way.”
Coach looks doubtful. “You really don’t get it, do you, Will? The media will come for my daughter and First Line. She’ll never be taken seriously in her field again.”
“I’ll keep her safe, I promise,” I reiterate.
Bending down, I loop my bag over one shoulder, ready to leave.
“Will”—Coach stands as I reach the door—“does Drew know the depths of your feelings for her?”
I scrub a single hand across my jaw, feeling the weight of my emotions as they pool behind my eyes. “No. Partly because I don’t want to freak her out and make things more complicated and partly …” I pull oxygen into my lungs. “Partly because I’m falling that damn fast. Each time I open my mouth to admit how I feel, the words won’t fucking come. It’s like my brain is incapable of doing my heart justice and …”
I swipe quickly at my cheek, and Coach’s eyes soften.
“Your daughter is really fucking special to me, and I’ll do—be—anything she wants. I don’t recognize the person I was before I spent all this time with her, and I already like the man I am way more than the boy who first pulled on a Rogues jersey nearly three months ago.”
31
. . .
Will
Sometimes, in life, everything goes right for you.
Like those car journeys where each stoplight goes green just before you pass through or when every touch I have in a game turns golden.
Thank Christ that tonight is one of those nights. The chances of gaining access to Drew’s office building were slim, and I knew that, driving over here.
But when a guy who works in the same building buzzed me through reception and then a woman held the security door open for me before it slammed shut, I knew luck was on my side.
And it needs to be because Drew still isn’t answering her phone, and following the conversation I just had with her dad, I need to talk to her more than ever.
Other than a few meeting rooms, the First Line offices are open plan and generally stark and bright. Not tonight. A single desk lamp in the far-right corner of the room is all that illuminates Drew’s face as she types away on her laptop, bottom lip pinned between her teeth in thought.
Like I anticipated, she’s the last one standing in the office, and I wonder how many nights she’s stayed late and put in extra hours she wasn’t paid for.
There’s something so beautiful about my girl when she’s like this—locked in and focused on her job. While I could lurk out of sight and watch her forever, a painful truth weighs heavy in my mind—this career means the world to her. If she didn’t have me as her client, I have zero doubt that she’d be scoring big deals and have an inbox bursting with new inquiries.
