Page 185 of Hard Pass

“I don’t want to scare him away just yet,” I tease.

There’s a pause and then my dad asks, “Is it serious?”

Heat crawls up my cheeks as my gaze drifts back to Cole on the sidelines, standing next to Lucas and reviewing something on the chart Lucas is holding.

Yeah. I’ve got it bad.

“Oh,” my mom says softly. Apparently, my silence informed her of the same. “It is serious.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” she says.

My dad chuckles softly. “Buggie, you used to give us full presentations about boys you only kind of liked.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did,” he says. “PowerPoints to be exact.”

“There were charts,” my mom adds.

“There were not charts,” I say.

“There were definitely charts,” she says, laughing.

I drop my forehead into my hand and laugh despite myself. “I hate both of you.”

“No, you don’t,” she murmurs.

And she’s right. I don’t.

The game cuts to halftime coverage and one glance at my paint-by-numbers has me cringing. Yet another failed attempt at relaxing.

I sigh.

“The painting is that bad?” my dad asks, somehow reading my sigh.

“You have no idea,” I mutter.

“Well at least your love life doesn’t have lines that need to be painted in, right?”

“Funny, Dad. Real funny.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Cole

The team plane lands in Austin without an update from Dublin.

Her only text: I’m still waiting on Manny.

I keep my phone clenched in my hand the whole coach ride back to the Rebels facility, checking it every few minutes for something I don’t want to see.

Exhausted and desperate to get home after a victorious but physically challenging game, there’s not much in the way of talk as guys grab their stuff from their lockers and bug out without the usual shit talking and razzing.

I pick up my phone on the first ring. “Hey. Hi. We landed. I’m at the facility getting my shit.”

“Cole,” she says softly. Cautiously.