11. Maddox
Chapter 11
Maddox
Noise-canceling headphones were a must for anyone who traveled as much as I had over the past fifteen years. The trip to Pittsburgh was short, a little over a full hour in the air, so it provided just enough time to catch up on an episode of my favorite hockey podcast. The two guys who had started it were former players, and there were no-holds-barred. They shared their honest opinion about the league, the teams within it—as well as their management staffs—and often had featured guests who were current or past players. Not to mention, they had put out their own hockey-branded pink lemonade vodka that was fucking amazing.
I’d started the episode the minute I sat down on the plane, so I was halfway through it not long after our ascent. A hand on my shoulder had me pausing and slipping my headphones off before turning to see who needed my attention.
Wyatt Banks, one of our starting defensemen, stared down at me with crease lines marring his forehead, his lips turned down in a frown. “Coach, we have a problem.”
I stood, instantly on high alert. “What is it? ”
He tilted his head toward the back of the plane, where almost everyone in that section was standing, huddled around a particular row. The hairs on the back of my neck rose when I didn’t notice a flash of red among their ranks.
“The new girl—“
Before he could finish that sentence, my feet were moving down the aisle toward the crowd. Shoving some male reporters out of the way, I pushed to the front, desperate to get to Bristol.
In the center of it all, I found the girl I couldn’t stop thinking about gasping for air, her eyes unfocused as her fingernails drew blood along her slender throat. Alyssa Simon sat beside her, digging through what I could only assume was Bristol’s bag, searching for something.
“Alyssa, I need you to move,” I commanded, and her blue eyes flashed to me.
She shook her head before returning to her quest. “I think she’s having an allergic reaction. If I can only find her epinephrine autoinjector . . .”
I knew Bristol wasn’t having an allergic reaction. She was deep in the middle of a panic attack, and if we didn’t get a handle on it soon, she was going to pass out.
“Now,” I barked, causing Alyssa to jump in her seat.
She stood on shaky legs, reluctant to leave Bristol’s side, but allowed me to take her place.
“Everyone else, clear the area! Find new seats at the front of the plane.” My tone left no room for argument, and the press pack scattered, leaving me alone with the panic-stricken woman to my left.
The first thing I did was try to pry her hands away from where she was hurting herself, but she was so far gone that I couldn’t overpower her. Her chest was concave, like she was holding her breath, which, technically, she was. Those once-perfectly pink lips took on a bluish tint, and my heart twisted inside my chest, making it hard for me to breathe—if she wasn’t breathing, I couldn’t either.
“Miss Cooper.” Speaking to her was a futile attempt; she needed something more. Trying again, I cupped her cheeks, bringing my face closer to hers. “Bristol, I need you to take a deep breath.”
She shook her head, and a tiny squeak sounded.
“I know it’s hard, love, but you have to. Please,” I begged because that’s all I had left in the arsenal. It was killing me to see her like this.
Caressing one cheek softly with my thumb, I placed my other hand over her racing heart. I decided to attempt a new tactic. “Come on, Bristol, I know you hate me; push my hand away. You can do it.”
Almost as if she’d been shocked, her chest expanded beneath my palm, and her sharp inhale was music to my ears.
“That’s it,” I coached. “Just like that. Now, slow it down. In for three, then out for three.”
As she slowly regulated her breathing, her hands ceased their self-destructive movements, and her eyes regained clarity, focusing on my face.
“There she is,” I said softly.
The last thing I expected was for her to launch into my arms, but I held on tight, grateful for any excuse to touch her again. Bristol’s body lurched against me in a ragged rhythm as wetness seeped through my dress shirt. Soothingly, I ran my hands through her hair left down today, curling softly down her back.
“You’re okay,” I whispered soothingly.
She shook her head against my chest, her words muffled. “We’re gonna die.”
“What?” I pulled back to view her tear-streaked face. “Why would you think that? ”
Bristol couldn’t get a full sentence out without hiccupping. “Be-because p-planes cra-ash.”
Jesus, she was terrified of flying to the point of a massive panic attack and had taken a job that required she get on a plane multiple times a week?
An image of boarding less than an hour ago flashed in my mind, where she’d paused at the bottom of the staircase. My arrogant ass had goaded her when she’d been battling her inner demons. Fuck. I’d probably made it worse.
“Would it help if I told you I’ve taken hundreds of flights, and never once has there been an issue?”
Her beautiful eyes filled with more tears, and she shook her head. “It only takes once.”
She had a point there, but what were the odds of being in a plane crash? Like one in a million? It wasn’t worth arguing with her over facts, as fears weren’t rational.
My eyes slid to her neck. The streaks of crimson were concerning as they layered over one another. How sharp were her nails? That probably wasn’t as important as the amount of pressure she had used in clawing at the delicate flesh in an attempt to breathe.
“I need to get a first aid kit from the flight attendants. You’re bleeding.”
I moved to stand, but she clutched me tighter, screaming, “Don’t leave me!”
What promised to be a short, uneventful flight had turned out to be anything but.
“Okay. I’m not going anywhere,” I promised. “But the minute we land, you have to let me or the team doc tend to your neck.”
Easing her slowly back into her seat, I noticed how tightly she was strapped in. How was she going to survive an entire season like this? I would place bets that she wouldn’t. Honestly, I’d be surprised if she voluntarily got on the return plane to Indy tomorrow night after the game.
Her tiny hand clutched at mine, and I continuously ran my thumb over her knuckles. “Is this okay?” I asked.
Bristol nodded, her eyes sliding closed as her throat bobbed. “Yeah, keep doing that. It helps.”
“Good. I’m glad.” My heart rate finally began to settle as she relaxed. “So, Bristol from Connecticut . . .”
One of her eyes popped open. “What are you doing?”
I shrugged. “Small talk is Option 1 in keeping you distracted for the remainder of the flight.”
“What’s Option 2?”
Boy, I was so glad she asked.
Unable to keep the smirk from my face, I replied, “Option 2 is that I haul your ass to the bathroom in the back, and we join the Mile High Club. Has proven to be effective in the past when you wanted to get your mind off an unsavory topic.”
She groaned, that one eye closing again. “Oh my God, I hate you.”
“I know. It’s what I used to get through to you when nothing else worked.”
Curiously, she peeked at me from beneath her lashes. “What do you mean?”
The hand not holding hers reached across my body to trace a pattern over her sternum. “I put my hand right here and dared you to push me away with a deep breath.”
Her lips parted in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m afraid I am. So, what’ll it be? Option 1 or Option 2? Although, I must warn you, should you choose Option 2, there won’t be much time for foreplay as it’s a short flight.” I leaned in close, dropping my voice. “And you know how much I love foreplay.”
Bristol rolled those pretty blue eyes before grumbling, “Option 1.”
“Not what I would have chosen, but I can make it work,” I teased.
“How did you know I was from Connecticut?” I simply raised an eyebrow, and she figured out the answer. “Of course. Braxton gave me up.”
“Not willingly,” I admitted. “He’s not my biggest fan at the moment.”
“Can’t say I blame him after the little pissing contest you got into with him during practice. Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, Coach Sterling.”
I groaned. “After all we’ve been through, I’m back in the ‘Coach’ zone?”
She leveled me with a glare. “So long as you call me Miss Cooper, you’re Coach Sterling.”
“That’s not exactly fair,” I protested. “Everyone in the press pack calls me Coach Sterling.”
“You just made my point for me. You maintain a formal title, but you address all of them by their first names. Except me. How long do you think that will go unnoticed?” Bristol challenged.
She had me there. “Fine. Bristol it is. But when it’s only the two of us, I fully expect the name Maddox to be rolling off your lips.”
Looking skyward, she let out a huff. “Yeah, okay. Because there will be so many times we’re alone together.”
“Say the word, and it can be arranged.” I waggled my eyebrows.
“No, thanks. I’m all set.” Her words were clipped, betraying her annoyance.
Shifting my weight, I turned in my seat so I could rub my nose along the length of her jaw. The shiver that stole down her body told me everything I needed to know. She still wanted me just as much as I wanted her.
Bringing my lips to her ear, I asked, “Are you telling me one night was enough for you? Because— confession—it wasn’t for me.”
A stuttered breath flew past her lips, and she shook her head. “We can’t. I can’t.”
I frowned. The emphasis on herself gave me pause. There was something more going on here, but I knew if I pressed too hard, she’d shut down. I had to play this smart, gradually get her to open up to me. Barring her resignation at the end of this short road trip, we had tons of time.
Sitting back, I gave her space, returning to the aforementioned small talk. The mention of her given name, combined with where she hailed from, gave me pause. “Wait. Isn’t Bristol the city in Connecticut that houses the headquarters of the largest sports broadcasting network?”
Bristol groaned. “Yeah. My mom had to put her foot down when my dad wanted to name his only daughter the four-letter moniker of said network. I guess they went round and round over it until she agreed to the name of the city it was located in instead.”
I barked out a laugh. Never let it be said that sports fans weren’t crazy.
“Glad you’re amused.” Bristol rolled her eyes.
“Sorry.” I ran a hand over my face to calm my expression. “But that’s hilarious. Guess you were destined to go into sports media, huh?”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“I take it your dad’s a sports nut?”
“Comets season ticket holder, actually.” She smirked, knowing it would provoke a reaction.
“Ouch.” I winced, throwing my free hand over my heart as if I were wounded.
“You can take the girl out of Hartford, but you can’t take the Comets fan out of the girl.”
The tiniest hint of her playful side was peeking out, and I was determined to see it in its full glory .
“So, Miss Die-Hard Comets Fan, what brings you to Indy to report on the enemy?” It was no secret there was no love lost between the Comets and the Speed.
Expecting her to give me a little bit of sass, I was shocked when she drew in on herself, even going so far as to pull her hand from mine where they’d rested intertwined on the armrest. Eyes downcast, her breathing grew shallow as she toyed with the bracelet on her wrist.
What the hell did I say? It had seemed innocent enough in my mind.
Bristol’s lip trembled, and a lone tear slid down her cheek. It was like a knife to my heart, knowing I’d done something to cause her pain.
Reacting instinctually, I cradled her face in my hands, swiping at the moisture with my thumbs, but it was quickly replaced with more.
“Fuck, Bristol. I’m sorry. I was just teasing. Forget I said anything. I’m glad you came to work covering the Speed.” I squeezed my own eyes shut before admitting, “If you hadn’t come into my life, I’d still be walking around in a daze.”
More tears fell, but her lashes fluttered as her eyes opened to reveal heartbreaking sadness in their depths. After a thick swallow, she said, “I was running away.”
“Running away,” I repeated. “From what?”
There was an imperceptible shake of her head in my hands. “Not a what. A who.”
Dread churned in my gut, and my voice turned lethal. “Did someone hurt you?”
One of her shoulders lifted. “In a way.”
“Who?” I demanded.
She turned her head away from me as she said, “My ex, Nix.”
What kind of stupid-ass name is Nix? Sounds like a frat boy nickname.
“The cheater,” I breathed out .
“Yeah,” Bristol confirmed on an exhale.
Odds were that I would never run into the little shit, but I wanted to strangle him. I hated that she was still hurting from whatever he did to her.
“I was smart enough to invest money from my playing days. If you want me to put out a hit on him, I could probably swing it financially.”
That had a slight smile curving on her lips, but her voice was still defeated. “He’s not worth it.”
“But it was bad enough for you to move halfway across the country to get away from him? To leave everything you’ve ever known behind?” I pressed.
“I have Dakota and Braxton,” she countered.
“Is that really enough?”
“It has to be.”
I wanted to tell her she had me too, but I knew she wasn’t ready to hear it. Whoever this Nix guy was had done a number on her.
Recapturing her hand, I pulled it between both of mine. When she turned to me, I poured every ounce of compassion I had into my gaze. I needed her to know I cared. That I was more than just a guy who she’d taken home one night and had explosive sex with.
Pulling her hand to my mouth, I brushed my lips over it. “Talk to me, Bristol. Help me understand.”
Her beautiful blue eyes tracked the movement of my lips as I peppered feather-light kisses across her knuckles. After what seemed like an eternity, she spoke. “He used me. And I agreed to it.”
My brows drew down. “What do you mean, you agreed to it?”
A soft sniffle sounded in the air between us, and her voice grew whisper-quiet. “He didn’t want to be exclusive. And I was so besotted with him that I let him fool around with other women. I thought”—she blew out a heavy breath—“I thought that if I showed him that I was devoted, that I wasn’t sleeping around, that eventually he’d see I was the girl for him and drop the rest of them.”
“But that didn’t happen, did it?”
“No.” Bristol shook her head. “Worse than that, after three years of letting him make a public fool of me, I asked for more. Told him how much I loved him and that I wanted it to be just us going forward.” She scoffed. “I bet you can figure out how well that went over.”
My blood boiled. Here I was, sitting beside this beautiful young woman, praying she would give me another shot, and some dickwad back in Connecticut had cast her aside because he thought he could do better?
As a man who’d sampled her incredible pussy and had had the opportunity to worship her body, I was craving another hit. I’d enjoyed my share of women, but Bristol came in at the top. Beyond that, she was smart and funny and sassy. And her love of hockey was a major plus. She was the total package.
But she didn’t trust me because the little fucker who broke her heart also happened to lace up skates. She assumed that because I was a former player, I was as bad as her ex, that I was a womanizer.
Yes, I knew it looked bad that I was still a bachelor at thirty-five, and that I’d never had a serious relationship to this point in my life. But maybe I was just waiting for the right girl to blow into my life like a hurricane and knock me onto my ass.
There was no doubt in my mind that girl was Bristol.
She made me feel alive that night at Pipes in a way I never had before.
Fuck the age difference and that a relationship between us would be breaking some unwritten rule about fraternizing with the press. I had a feeling she needed someone to treat her like the queen she was, as much as I needed someone to ground me. We could be good for each other .
Before I could say anything more, the seatbelt light turned on, accompanied by the signature ding.
Bristol jolted in her seat, her eyes flying wide in panic. “What was that?” Her gaze darted around the cabin. She gave off an appearance like that of a spooked horse.
“Hey, it’s okay. They’re only making sure everyone has their seatbelts on because we’ll be landing soon.”
“We are?”
“Yep.” I nodded, pressing another kiss to her hand. “You made it.”
She huffed. “My feet aren’t on solid ground yet. Most accidents happen during takeoff and landing.”
I fought the urge to smile. “Well, at least if this is the end, I’m glad I get to spend it with you.”
“Lucky me,” she grumbled.
No, I was the lucky one. How she’d fallen right into my lap was something I would never question. All that mattered was that she had.
Bristol Cooper might just be the thing that could replace the giant hole that losing my playing career had left in my soul.
The second we touched down in Pittsburgh, I ushered Bristol off the plane before anyone else had a chance to disembark. Dr. Sanders, the team physician, followed us out when I motioned for him over my shoulder on my way up the aisle.
Thankfully, the weather was still nice in late September, and I didn’t mind the short walk past the team bus—parked at the bottom of the rolling staircase—into the private airstrip lobby. The sliding glass doors opened, and one of the attendants behind the reception desk’s eyes widened at the blood coating Bristol’s throat.
“A first-aid kit would be appreciated,” I called to her, and she sprang into action as I eased Bristol into a cushioned chair.
“You’re making too big of a deal out of this,” Bristol protested.
“I’m really not,” I countered. To prove my point, I pulled my cell out of my pocket and turned on the camera feature before handing it to her. She got one look at the damage she’d done to her neck and winced, passing back the phone.
Dr. Sanders entered the lobby as the attendant placed a first-aid kit into my hands. “Injury or illness?” he asked.
I held up the kit, tilting my head toward Bristol. “Most definitely injury. Self-inflicted.”
Dr. Sanders’s eyes widened when he caught sight of the marks lining her delicate skin, remarking, “Seems you’ve done a number on yourself, Miss—“
“Cooper,” I supplied, earning a glare from the woman in question.
“Well . . .” Dr. Sanders pulled a pair of latex gloves from his satchel. “First things first. We need to get these cuts cleaned to prevent any risk of infection.”
Bristol sighed. “Do what you need to do. I’ve held up the team enough and don’t wish to cause further delay.”
As she allowed the doctor to tend to her wounds, the sliding glass doors opened, and the unmistakable sound of heels clicking on polished flooring reached my ears. Glancing up, I saw Alyssa rush into the lobby, carrying Bristol’s travel tote. She hurried to her friend’s side, sitting on the coffee table opposite Bristol’s chair .
“Are you okay?” she asked, concern evident in her tone. I could only imagine how terrifying it had been for her to be sitting beside someone who panicked so badly that they stopped breathing and inflicted bodily harm on themselves.
Bristol hissed as Dr. Sanders used an alcohol wipe along her many lacerations. “Yeah. I’m better now. Guess I should have mentioned I have a serious fear of flying.”
Alyssa reached out a hand, which Bristol grasped. “No biggie. I thought you were having an allergic reaction.”
“Nope, all up here.” She tapped her temple.
A rapid succession of dings came from the bag at Alyssa’s side. She pushed blonde hair away from her face and reached inside, pulling out a cell phone. “This has been going off pretty much ever since we landed.”
Lips twisting as she eyed the phone, Bristol mused, “My money’s on Dakota.”
Feeling helpless, I offered, “You want me to handle it?”
Her blue eyes shifted in my direction, and she nibbled on the corner of her lower lip. “Could you? I’m sure Braxton spilled the beans, and she’s worried. My head’s not in the right place to deal with her right now.”
Alyssa’s brows knitted as her head turned on a swivel to look between me and Bristol. She was figuring out there was something more between us, but I couldn’t worry about that now.
Plucking the phone from her hand, I saw multiple text notifications with Dakota’s name attached to them on the lock screen.
“I’m gonna head out to the bus,” Alyssa said to Bristol. “I’ll save you a seat.”
Bristol nodded, and then we were left alone. Well, as alone as we could be in a lobby with a doctor cleaning and bandaging her neck .
Bending down, I brought the screen to Bristol’s face to unlock facial recognition. In an attempt to lighten the mood, I teased, “If you’re hiding a secret love child, now would be a great time to come clean. I’m about to have unrestricted access to your phone.”
A shudder rolled through her slight frame. “Are you trying to give me nightmares?”
Interesting. Was she not a fan of kids? Or perhaps the idea of having one with her ex was what terrified her? Those were questions for another day. We had more pressing matters to attend to—namely, a best friend in Indy who likely wanted answers.
With the phone unlocked, I pulled up the messages:
Dakota: Braxton said there was an incident on the plane, and you were involved.
Dakota: He said there was blood! What the hell happened?
Dakota: Are you okay? Why aren’t you answering your phone?
Dakota: I’m grabbing my keys. If I don’t hear from you in the next five minutes, I’m getting in the car and driving to Pittsburgh tonight. It’s almost a straight shot across I-70. I can be there before midnight.
Well, if all Bristol had in Indy were Dakota and Braxton, at least they cared deeply about her.
“She’s freaking out,” I announced. “Says if you don’t contact her in the next five minutes, she’s driving out here.” I checked the time stamp on that last message. “And that was four minutes ago.”
Bristol groaned. “Can you please tell her that I’m fine? ”
“Sure thing.”
Pulling up Dakota’s contact information on the phone, I decided that instead of sending a message, I would call her directly.
It rang exactly once before Dakota’s sweet yet panicked voice came across the line. “Bristol, oh my God! What happened? Was it like spring break?”
My eyes shifted to Bristol, and a corner of my lips twitched. “Not Bristol, but please, let’s circle back to spring break. Were there tiny bikinis involved?”
There was an audible rush of air in my ear. “Maddox. Please tell me she’s okay.”
“She’s fine,” I confirmed. “A little worse for wear, but she’ll be all right.”
“What does that mean? Is she hurt?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “She clawed the shit out of her throat, trying to breathe in the middle of her panic attack. That was the blood Braxton must have seen.”
“Jesus. And I thought it was bad when we flew to Florida, and they almost had to make an emergency landing for her.”
Ah. Spring break. It made sense now.
“Can I talk to her, please? Just to know she’s okay?” There was a desperation in Dakota’s voice.
I pulled the phone away from my face, addressing Bristol. “She wants to talk to you.”
Dr. Sanders had just finished placing the last of the bandages. He squeezed gently on Bristol’s shoulder. “Make sure to keep them clean and dry. There will be a pharmacy down the block from our hotel. I suggest picking up a tube of antibiotic ointment. Should help minimize any chance of scarring.”
Bristol ducked her head. “Thanks. I’ll make sure to do that. ”
He stood up straight before removing his gloves. “I’ll see you on the bus, you two.”
“Thanks, Doc.” I moved out of his way so he could leave the building.
As soon as he was gone, I held the phone in Bristol’s direction. “Do you want to talk to her? Or should I tell her you’ll call her later?”
Resigned, Bristol raised her palm, curling her fingers in a gimme motion. Our fingers brushed as I transferred the phone into her grasp, and I felt the connection travel up my arm, settling over my heart. I knew then that I couldn’t walk away from this girl if I tried. There was something deeper to be discovered between us, and I was curious to find out what that was.
Bristol placed the phone to her ear. “Hey, babe. I’m fine.”
She sighed while listening to whatever her best friend had to say on the other end of the line.
“Yeah.” Her baby blues shifted to peer up at me. “Actually, Maddox was able to settle me.”
I congratulated myself on the small victory of hearing her say my name, but it was short-lived when I saw the defeated expression on her face.
“No. You don’t need to come out here. I’ll be home tomorrow night.” She nodded. “I’ll figure it out. I have to.” There was no doubt she was trying to quell Dakota’s concerns about how she would complete the season with all the air travel required by the team and the press. “Okay. Love you too. Bye.”
Bristol’s lungs filled with a deep breath, which she held in for a moment before slowly releasing as her eyes slid closed.
I sat on the coffee table as Alyssa had done not long ago, pulling her hands into mine. That shocked her enough that her eyes sprang open before they narrowed in distrust. Hadn’t I shown she could count on me back on the plane? I guess I would have to keep showing up, proving my worth, until she believed I wasn’t going to let her down .
“Can I ask you something?” I asked.
“Sure.”
“Have you ever tried something aimed at taking the edge off? You’re not the first nervous flyer to ever take to the skies.”
Bristol pulled her hands away, and I mourned the loss of her touch. “Simple anxiety meds aren’t enough. They don’t touch my extreme level of panic. A stronger sedative would have left me incapacitated on such a short flight. It would seem I’m caught between a rock and a hard place as most of our travel is two hours or less in the air.”
She was right. Even on our West Coast trips, the longest leg was the first and last, but we usually hunkered down, hitting multiple teams that were close together before returning home.
“Did talking to me—letting me distract you with conversation—and having a hand to hold help?”
Pink spread from beneath her bandages and onto her cheeks. “Yeah.”
I threw my arms wide. “Then I’m happy to offer my services when we travel.”
She let out a puff of air in exasperation. “I can’t ask you to do that. Besides, what would everyone think?”
“Fuck everyone else.” She gave me a disapproving glare. “I’m serious. Is sitting beside me and having an innocent conversation more embarrassing than having a large crowd watch you inflict bodily harm on yourself as you struggle to achieve the most basic human function of breathing?”
Dropping her head into her hands, Bristol’s response was muffled. “No.”
“Then it’s settled. You’ll be my new seat partner for as long as you remain with the team.”
Opening her fingers, she peeked at me from between them. “What if I last longer than you do?”
Not gonna lie. That one stung. But it wasn’t totally unjustified .
I was new at my job, and coaches were replaced all the time, sometimes mid-season. I knew if I didn’t prove myself to management, I could be out on my ass. I was learning on the fly with no previous experience, and I prayed there was a little bit of grace given. If not, I wasn’t sure what I’d do. This job was a lifeline to stay close to the players I viewed as brothers, to ease the emptiness in my life with my livelihood suddenly ripped away.
“We’ll cross that bridge if, or when, we get to it.” It was the only response I could give. Neither of us had a crystal ball that could tell us how long I would hold my position.
Standing, I offered her my hand, and she took it, allowing me to pull her from her seat.
“Just on the plane, though,” she clarified. When I hesitated to respond, I caught a flash of fire in her eyes. “Or I could ask Braxton. I’m sure he’d be more than willing to offer up his conversational services if I told him I needed him.“ Those last few words were said on a breathy sigh.
Lightning-quick, I gripped her upper arm, hauling her to my chest as a growl sounded from deep in my chest. “Don’t toy with me, love,” I warned.
Even though her breathing quickened with how closely our bodies were pressed, and her fingers dug into my shoulders, she maintained the defiant fa?ade. “Or else, what?”
I dipped my head, placing my mouth a breath away from her ear. “Hope you’re stocked up on turtlenecks because as soon as you’re healed, I’ll take over marking that pretty neck of yours myself. And that’s not a threat. You know I’m good for it.”
That was enough to break the trance I held over her, and she shoved at my chest with both hands, putting space between us.
Stepping to the side, she hefted her travel bag onto her shoulder. “Have you forgotten so quickly I’ve already been down this path before? I know how players operate, heard more lines designed to get women into bed than you could ever dream of. The only reason the two of us hooked up was because I was looking for something different. I’m done beating my head against a wall, trying the same thing over and over, and expecting it to turn out differently. I’m done. Thank you for your offer for the plane, but upon further consideration, I will have to pass.”
With that, she stormed off through the doors and across the concrete tarmac to where the team bus sat waiting.
Stunned, I watched her walk away. Was she really saying that if I were an Average Joe and had said the same thing, it would have been acceptable, even well-received? But because I was a former player, I carried some black mark of boyfriends past, and she wanted nothing to do with me?
She wasn’t making this easy, but she underestimated me. I wasn’t a quitter, nor was I one of those douchebags she’d dated in the past.
Blowing out a breath, I followed at a safe distance until she disappeared inside the bus. Stepping up the short staircase and past the driver, I found Jenner near the front, with an open seat beside him. After ensuring Bristol had found a seat with Alyssa, I dropped onto it with a sigh.
Jenner wasted no time in busting my balls. “You are so fucked, man.”
I ran a hand down my face, rubbing my palm across the stubble gathered along my jaw. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”
This whole thing couldn’t have come at a worse time or with a more complicated person, but I was in too deep now. There was no turning back.