Page 65 of Forever Relentless

“I’m sure you can.” He turned to the other two. “I’m on sled runs.”

They walked away as if nothing had happened, leaving me staring after them. Noah dropped back into his sled pushes. Dustin picked up his footwork on the tires, and Dante went back to lazy throws.

I moved to the lowest bench and sat at its end. I felt self-conscious, as if everyone were watching me. But no one was. The team was fully engaged in their training; despite the lack of coaches, they were well-disciplined and invested. Dustin soon ran routes as Dante threw to him. The backup QB stood at his shoulder, and whatever he said made Dante grin.

I’d been avoiding him, but on the pretense of taking shots, my lens settled on Noah Matthews as he drank from his water bottle. I watched his throat work as he swallowed and had the irrational realization that throats were sexy. Or maybe it was just the throat of a sexy man. His throat. Jesus, he was mouthwatering.

I lowered my camera as I watched the defensive coordinator coach march down the field toward Noah. Noah looked ready to head to the weight room, and I watched his head lift as the coach approached.

I couldn’t hear them, but I saw Noah’s shoulders give a lazy shrug. I tried to avert my eyes when the coach looked my way, but his glance was so brief that I think he was trying to place me in general.

My head snapped back when I heard Noah laugh at whatever he said. As he was still grinning, I watched him start to pick up the equipment.

Was that his punishment? Cleaning up after his peers? He did that anyway. I’d noticed most of the first team did the same. They all pitched in. Despite the fact that there were literal workers on the pitch watching them, or trainers, or the benched team, they all worked together.

As a team.

My breathing quickened when I saw Sutherland walk back onto the field. He stood at the top end of the training field, his eyes sweeping over every player and member of his team. I felt them land on me, then move on just as quickly.

“Matthews.”

The call was loud over the chatter, and I watched Noah as he straightened up after picking up a crash mat.

“Yes, Coach?”

“Double suicides.”

The word hit wrong after last night, but no one else reacted. Why would they? It was a sports term. But still, it hit me wrong every time.

“Coach?” Noah didn’t look the slightest bit troubled.

“Work the grips on those cleats out.”

“Good thinking, Coach. To the thirty?”

Sutherland gave a brief nod, and I watched Noah drop the mat, then effortlessly run to the bottom of the field, then start running short bursts to the thirty, spin, and do it again.

He never complained. He ran to the thirty like it was his idea. He never looked my way, and I took his cue. I still hadn’t answered his text. I wasn’t going to think about that right now. I picked up my things, shouldered my bag, and headed for the exit.

“Ms. Holmes?”

I turned to the sound of Sutherland’s call. “Coach Sutherland?”

“I saw a lot of positive comments on your last few posts.” He didn’t smile or seem affected by the earlier incident. “Keep it up.”

It felt less like praise and more like a reminder that he saw everything.

“Your team makes it easy to post good content, the guys work so hard together,” I told him honestly, and was rewarded with a dip of his chin in acknowledgment.

It was the closest thing I would ever say to him that was a compliment, and I resented the truth of my words. I ducked my head and walked out.

It wasn’t until I was outside that I felt that I could breathe properly.

“Jesus Christ, I need a drink,” I mumbled as I walked back to the media center. I took a detour to the coffee shop and settled for a black coffee and a donut instead.

In the office, Gaby looked up as I walked in and dropped into my seat with a grunt.

“Too much testosterone?” she asked with sympathy.