6. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
LANE
Ialready want to bury myself in a hole and never come back out, and it’s not even my first official day of work yet. All I did was turn in my damn application.
My father’s impromptu speech was bad enough, but dealing with Teagan after my father warned the team to stay away from me is a whole new level of mortification.
Still, I can’t blame my dad for being overprotective. He spent the better part of the last year thinking I avoided this job because I was uncomfortable working with male athletes after falling pregnant to one of his players in football camp.
And he’s not entirely wrong.
That is why I avoided this job.
But little does he know it’s because the father’s also on this field.
I swipe my bag off the bottom bleacher where I left it, ready to get the hell out of here and back to Sophie when a shadow looms over me.
Turning, I shield my eyes from the waning sun expecting my father or Mark, but instead, I find a stone-faced Chance staring down at me.
My heart jumps in my throat as I quickly take him in. His football gear only amplifies his muscular physique and broad shoulders. I’ve probably seen him in his football uniform and practice gear thousands of times, and still, the sight of him hits me like a hammer every single time.
He’s like a vacuum, sucking all the air from the room, and I absolutely hate how he still affects me. The only difference between now and before is I rather enjoy breathing more than I enjoy his company.
He’s beautiful on the outside, no doubt about it. Too bad he’s rotten inside.
“Can I help you with something?” I ask, squinting up at him.
I can’t help but wonder what he wants. It’s not like we talk anymore.
“You can quit,” he barks out.
My eyes widen in surprise before I school my expression into one of indifference. With a shake of my head, I sling my bag over my shoulder and step around him. “Sorry, but I can’t do that.”
A beat of silence passes before he calls at my back. “Lane, why the hell are you here?”
I pause in my tracks, fighting the manic laughter threatening to bubble from my throat. He, of all people, has zero right to question me about anything.
Spinning around to face him, I reign in the anger boiling my blood as I say, “I’m not sure it’s any of your business, but isn’t it obvious? I need a job and the money that comes with it.”
“Not this one you don’t.”
I glance up at him, jaw tight as I fight the urge to cuss him out. How did I ever find him attractive? How could I have fallen for such an egotistical prick? And how dare he tell me where I can and cannot work.
“And what exactly is wrong with me working here?” I ask.
“How about the fact that it’ll be uncomfortable.”
“For whom? You, or me?” I arch a brow, arms crossed over my chest. “Because I find it hard to believe any part of you is worried about how I might feel.”
“For both of us.” He takes a step closer. Instinctively, I take one back. “Are you really telling me you want to see me nearly every fucking day?”
“No,” I grind out. Definitely not.
“Okay, then there are plenty of other jobs.”
I scoff, unsure of why I’m surprised. As usual, he’s only worried about himself and how my presence will affect him, not how it might help me and my life. “I’d be hard pressed to find any other job like this one that will help me get the position I want after college, and certainly not one that pays this much for so little work, not to mention free childcare. Or did you forget I still have a child?”
“No, I didn’t fucking forget,” he snaps, and my brows rise.
He’s so unflappable on the field and incapable of feeling, I almost forgot he’s human.
“Is that why you’re here?” he asks. “Is this some way of rubbing my mistakes in my face? You think I ruined your life, so now you want to ruin mine?”
Bile rises in the back of my throat, and I want to punch him so badly I fist my hands at my sides to stop myself from doing something I’ll regret. “Sophie is not a pawn,” I spit. “Don’t worry, your dirty little secret is safe with me. No one knows you’re her father,” I hiss.
Relief flickers in his dark gaze and it’s like a hot poker to my anger. He exhales and nods. “Okay. But I still don’t like the idea of you parading around in front of all these guys.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from lashing out.
Since when has Chance ever been possessive of me? And what right does he have to tell me what I can and cannot do?
“I think my father’s warning to the team was clear enough. Besides, you have no hold on me, Chance. We were never anything besides—”
“Don’t say that.” His expression morphs into something bordering on regret, causing me to blink as if I might be imagining it. “You know we had something real. I just can’t have any complications or distractions in my life.”
And there it is. The truth. Or at least part of it because not for one second do I think what we had was real.
Chance is a lot of things, but having a bleeding heart is not one of them.
A rueful smile curls my lips. “I’m all too aware of how you can’t have ‘distractions’ in your life,” I say, making air quotes with my fingers. “But as long as we’re no longer together, you have no say in what I do with mine.”
“You say that like I’m doing this just for me.”
I snort and shake my head.
“I helped get your father this spot, didn’t I?” He shrugs. “And who knows what the future holds. I might be able to get him something in the NFL one day but seeing you here every day won’t serve me well if I’m to keep my head.”
I narrow my eyes on his face. To hang my father’s career over my head is cruel. I know damn well what got him here; it’s why I’ve kept my mouth shut all this time, but we both know my father isn’t moving to the next level with him.
I say nothing, waiting for him to finish his tantrum or whatever the hell this is.
“You know I still have feelings for you.” He steps forward and I hold my breath.
When he reaches out and slides a lock of my hair through his fingers, I jerk away from his touch. “Don’t act like we were more than we were, Chance. I was a fool once, but never again. I’m not the same starry-eyed teenager I was back then. I’ve grown up.”
He licks his lips, gaze flickering over me. My stomach sours.
“That’s too bad.” His lips curl. “I liked that starry-eyed teenager.”
Yeah, because you could so easily manipulate her.
God, I was a fool to think we were good together, that he loved me . . .
I swallow over the bile rising in the back of my throat and fake gag. “You’re the same selfish narcissist you’ve always been, Chance. Some things never change.”
“That’s not fair. You know I want you, Lane, but I want football more. It would be a waste to squander my talent right now when what I need most is to focus. Maybe once I have a few years under my belt in the NFL . . .”
I fight the urge to dry heave again and instead laugh. “Let me just hold my breath.”
Disapproval glints in his eyes. “Sarcasm isn’t an attractive trait.”
Neither is selfishness, but here we are.
I bite my tongue in an effort to save my energy.
There’s no point in arguing; it’s like going round and round on a Ferris wheel with no end in sight. So I save my energy. He’s not worth it, anyway. All he’ll do is say something in return to rile me up even more, and I’ve already had my temperature spiked enough for one day.
“Are we done here?” I ask at the same time my father takes the field. “Because I have a job to do.”
Chance’s gaze flickers to my father then back, and I know he’ll retreat now that he’s looking this way. God forbid my father discovers what a jackass he is.
As expected, he nods then steps away from me, snatching his helmet off the bench on the sidelines before jogging over to where my father stands, clipboard in hand.
I exhale, my stomach tight as a drum as I stare out into the football field. I hate that Chance still has the ability to mess with my head after all this time. I’m over him. Of that, I’m sure. Whatever we shared was a long time ago. My wounds have since been licked and healed over. The scabs might’ve formed scars, but I’m as good as new. At least, I’d like to think I am. I have no room in my life for what-ifs. I only have time for right here, right now.
I want people in my life who don’t view Sophie’s existence as some monumental hardship or sacrifice. I want someone who sees her like I do—a blessing. And if that means I have to live the rest of my days lonely and single, then so be it. I don’t have time for half-assed feelings or relationships.
I turn and storm out of the stadium. Our conversation—his request that I simply find another job—really pisses me off. And the fact that he has any effect on my mood pisses me off even more.
Taking a cleansing breath and counting slowly to five like I do when I’m overwhelmed with Sophie, I reign in my anger. Once I’ve banished it to the back of my mind, I head for my car, more determined than ever.
I start Wednesday. I have a new job, and no one, especially not Chance Lockhart, is going to stop me from doing it.