Chapter 8
Trinity
I could barely function past the tight coil in my stomach as my father guided me and Julia back to the field house.
He was a coach.
Worked with my father.
A freaking athlete.
I knew it. Had my suspicions, but now that there was confirmation, this was the part where I usually felt relief that I dodged a bullet. But for some foreign reason, I felt…disappointment. Which was stupid.
And another little piece of information that caused the contents of my stomach to churn was the other bomb my father dropped.
He was my neighbor???
My mind raced, trying to recall if I had even paid attention to any of the neighbors. I’d been busy with unpacking and getting things set for my classes. I barely stepped outside.
“So Baldwin University is where you did undergrad?” Julia asked as my father held the door open for us.
“Yes. Graduated in May,” I answered as we tracked down the brightly lit hallway.
“Good school. Very good health education program.” She smiled over her shoulder before leading us through a set of double doors.
“Pretty impressive, isn’t it?” My dad beamed.
Part of me preened at his praise, while the other part scowled.
While he was here, paying for his new wife every Louis Vuitton purse on the market and his fancy house with a freaking movie theater, I was working three jobs to pay for that degree.
I’m still paying for it. With my own blood, sweat, and tears.
Which made the victory seem sweeter. That I had earned it.
“Very impressive.” She stopped at the entrance to a weight room housing equipment with some of the nicest machines I’d ever seen.
“This is our weight room.” She motioned a hand. “The room back there is where we have our station for taping and physical therapy.” Her finger moved to the other side of the room. “Ice baths, the lap pool, and anything water related is through those doors.”
I nodded, breathing deep as I let that coil loose and welcomed the feeling of excitement. Of anticipation.
“Wow,” I breathed. “This is nice.”
“We have a lot of donors for the athletic department.” My father grinned.
“This school is built on our ability to excel in sports. From football to the girls’ basketball teams. We’re held to a different standard.
One that requires hard work, determination, and not letting distractions steer you away from your goals. ”
Although his speech was meant to be motivational, I couldn’t help but feel that he spoke from experience.
I was a distraction. He was at the height of his career and a woman with a new baby at home needing his attention kept it off of what really mattered.
You would think with a professional football player for a father who barely had time for a phone call that I would have chosen a different career path.
One that didn’t involve the very sport that stole him away.
But despite the childhood trauma, somewhere deep in my bones, I had his DNA.
I was athletic, competitive, and enjoyed any form of organized competition.
I was sure a licensed therapist would say I chose this because, in some twisted way, it connected me to him.
Sharing a passion. Wanting his approval.
And maybe it was, but I pushed that deep down along with my aversion to dating athletes, my impulsive mother, and absent father.
This was the one place I felt in control. I felt pride.
“Besides the coaches, we have a few others in the department who handle the administrative side. Schedules, hotel information, supply orders, things like that. I can introduce you to them tomorrow.” She rubbed a hand across her cute belly. “They’re most likely gone for the day already.”
“I can’t wait to get to work,” I said, my eyes meeting Julia’s.
Her smile was glowing. “That’s what I like to hear.”
After touring the rest of the facility, I left campus with a little less anxiety than what I came with.
Julia was great, and I had a light load of classes this semester to juggle.
I was only taking three, along with my internship, if you will.
Travel with the team would take up a lot of my time, along with practice twice a day.
Turning into my driveway, I scanned the houses, wondering which one was Preston’s.
I mean, Coach Rusk’s. Cursing under my breath, I parked, closing my eyes with a mental reminder.
He was one of my mentors now. Not some hot guy I could think about outside of school hours.
A hard line needed to be drawn. Apparently, down the middle of the street.
I shoved the door open, telling myself I wasn’t going to look across the driveway again.
The effort was moot. My eyes pulled to the other side of the road like a car crash you can’t seem to look away from.
Then my breath hitched. Because striding across the asphalt was a six-foot-three frame, blue eyes, and a scowl.
And I wasn’t ready to face him.