10. Chapter 10
Chapter 10
LANE
Did I really say yes to pizza with a boy I barely know?
His slow spreading smile confirms I did.
Shit.
I blame it on Chance. He approached me again before practice and it’s fucking with my head.
“Great.” Teagan’s blue eyes glitter like jewels in the fading sun. “You know where Slice is, the place right off campus?”
I snort. “Of course I know where it is. I’m a local, remember?”
“Right.” He starts to walk backward toward the tunnel that leads to the locker rooms. “Six-thirty, it is. See you ladies, then.”
I nod, watching him as he turns, brushing past several of his teammates when I notice Chance hovering just outside the opening. His gaze drifts from Teagan to me, his brow furrowed, eyes narrowed to slits.
I wonder if he thinks something is going on between us. Too bad I don’t give a damn.
After our conversation Monday, and again today, I couldn’t give two shits about what he thinks. Controlling bastard.
I arch a brow, mentally flipping him the bird as I climb onto the utility vehicle already loaded full of equipment, and head for the storage room, wondering if Chance Lockhart was going to be a problem.
As promised, I enter Slice with Sophie in tow at exactly six-thirty. Even though it’s a weeknight, it’s still pretty crowded thanks to its proximity to campus, so it takes me a few minutes to see Teagan in the corner booth at the back.
He waves me over, standing as we approach, and my belly tumbles over itself.
Even from here, I can see his hair is still damp, fresh from his shower. His blond locks curl on the top of his head, creating a halo over his otherwise angelic features. Sharp jaw. Clear, blue eyes. Pink, pouty lips with dimples I want to touch.
He’s wearing a black button-down shirt rolled at the sleeves, with a pair of jeans that fit him to perfection. As I stop in front of him, the scent of his body wash, or cologne, or whatever it is, drifts toward me in citrus-cinnamon perfection.
My heart pounds, mind racing as I wonder what I’m doing here.
Date or not, I don’t hang out with men in my free time, especially not with Sophie.
It’s only pizza.
It’s just food, nothing more, evidenced by the small human clutching your hand.
No biggie.
I clear my throat and glance down at Sophie. I’d told her on the way here we were meeting a new friend, but I hadn’t bothered with specifics. I’m about to remind her of where we met Teagan when he surprises me by dropping to his haunches so he’s at eye level with her, and says, “Hey, Soph, remember me?”
She nods, curls bouncing as her tiny grin eats up her face. “You bought me the ball.”
“That’s me. Good memory, kiddo.” He winks and points to the little stuffed dinosaur in her hands, the one she’s never without. “Who’s this?”
“Oh,” Sophie glances down at the stuffed toy. “That’s Betty.”
“Betty? That’s a nice name for a cool dinosaur.”
She nods, eyes wide. “She’s a Brachiosaurus.”
“Well, I hope Betty likes pizza.”
Sophie screws up her face. “No. Betty’s an omnivore. She doesn’t eat pizza. She eats plants, silly.”
“Oh. My bad.” Teagan grins, then straightens as Sophie beams up at him like he’s God’s gift, and right now, I kind of don’t blame her.
The knot of nerves in my chest tightens as he rises to his full height and his eyes lock with mine. “Hey,” he murmurs.
“Hey,” I say back, and he stares at me so intently with a slow spreading grin that I blush and glance away. “Um, are we allowed to sit?” I motion for the booth, and he jumps as if remembering where we are.
“Oh, yeah. Shoot. Sorry about that.” He runs a hand through his hair and steps aside while I slide into the booth beside Sophie, chastising myself for the bubbling, giddy feeling building inside my chest.
I feel like a middle schooler with a crush, which is ridiculous.
“I’m thirsty,” Sophie says.
“Okay, I know. We’ll get you something, hon.” I risk a quick peek at Teagan, wondering if he’ll find her slightly whiny tone irritating, but I notice nothing amiss in his expression. If anything, he seems pleased by her presence as he folds his arms over the table and leans toward her.
“I’m thirsty, too. After practice, I could drink a gallon of water. Did you know I play football?”
Sophie shakes her head, eyes wide while I fidget in my seat. “You do?” she asks.
Teagan nods. “Which is also why I’m starving, and pizza is my favorite. I bet you don’t like pizza.”
Her blue eyes round even more, and she nods, offering him a toothy grin. “No, I do. I love it.”
Teagan slaps a hand over his chest. “Whew. Man, I’m so relieved. For a second there, I thought maybe you were like Betty and hated it, and that would be terrible because I just can’t be friends with a human who doesn’t like pizza since I eat it all the time.”
“You do?”
Teagan nods, his expression solemn. “I do.”
“My mom says pizza is bad for you.”
Teagan gasps in mock horror. “It is?”
“I don’t know.” Sophie turns to me as something tugs inside my chest.
“Well, in moderation it’s fine, but you don’t want to eat it too often.”
“How much do you eat it?” she asks, turning back to him, concern wrinkling her brow.
“Hmmm . . . at least three times a week.”
“Three times a week!” Sophie nearly screams, eyes flying wide.
Teagan grimaces. “Is that too much?”
“I don’t know, but it sure sounds like it.”
I chuckle, glancing between them. “Three times a week is crazy,” I say, and even I can hear the humor in my voice.
“Ugh. You’re probably right.” He pats a hand over his flat stomach. “Does it show?”
Sophie tilts her head, eyes narrowing in consideration. “I don’t know. I can’t tell.” Then even more seriously: “Let me see your belly.”
I pinch my lips together to stifle a laugh. “Sophie, he doesn’t—”
Teagan lifts the hem of his T-shirt and the words die in my throat.
It’s only enough to expose his navel, nothing indecent, but the ripple of abdominals leaves me speechless.
I have no idea if he’s clenching his stomach or not.
I have no idea if I even blink while I’m soaking him in.
I don’t know much about abs because I have none.
All I know is I can’t tear my gaze away from the hard expanse of skin.
It’s not until Sophie speaks up that I manage to wrench my eyes away. “I don’t know,” Sophie says, her tone wary. “You have those weird lines and bumps all over. I’ve never seen those before." She scrunches her nose and glances up at me in question. "Is that normal, or is it from too much pizza?”
Teagan laughs at the same time I do, and our eyes meet across the table.
My cheeks flush as I cover my face with my hands for a moment, willing the blush away as I give my head a little shake. “Nope, Soph. That’s not from pizza,” I mumble through my hands. “Those are muscles.”
As much as I don’t want to admit it, I’m endeared by Teagan Nichols.
It’s not just his chiseled abdominals—though, my God, the image of them is seared into my brain—nor is it his persistence. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone my age, let alone one of the opposite sex, who talks to Sophie like she’s on their level. Most people either talk down to her, ignore her entirely, or use baby talk when speaking to her, but not him. Instead, he treats her like she’s just another person, even stooping to eye level to greet her like he did today and the day we first met in the park. If I’m being honest, this one gesture alone makes me wish I were girlfriend material.
Because if circumstances were different . . . if we were both older . . . if Teagan were in a different place in his life . . . if he wasn’t one of my father’s tight ends . . . if I had more time and fewer responsibilities . . . then, maybe dating me would be easier. Maybe it could work.
He leans over the table, his long arms easily reaching Sophie’s menu where she colors the pepperoni slices on the cartoon pizza while he shades in the other toppings, and for the first time in a long time, I feel myself relax.
I wasn’t sure what I expected when he asked us to grab pizza with him. Awkward conversation? For him to ignore Sophie? Get annoyed with her when she spilled her milk?
Whatever I’d anticipated when I walked through the doors of Slice, so far, the evening has been none of those things. As it turns out, Teagan continues to surprise me at every turn. I might not have a ton of dating experience—okay, any experience—but he’s different from any guy I’ve ever met.
It makes me wonder how the hell some unattached, single college girl with zero stretch marks or a need for a babysitter hasn’t snatched him up.
“So, this must be a late night for her, huh?” Teagan asks, glancing up at me while I sip on my Coke, oddly content as we wait for our pizza.
I nod. “Yeah, later than I’d like, if I’m being honest.” I glance over at Sophie with familiar fondness. “But it’s not all bad. This job has its perks.” And giving Sophie a better life while letting my own folks finally live theirs is one of them.
“Like seeing me nearly every day?” He winks, and my stomach dips like the freefall of a roller coaster.
“Of course.” I huff, trying to shake the effect he has on me. “Can’t forget that. But there’s also the fact that I don’t start each day until after one o’clock. Or that it’s basically part-time hours with more pay than I can get anywhere else.” I shrug. “I could do worse.”
“Did you work before this?” Teagan asks.
“Yeah. Mostly just data entry stuff from home. It was super flexible, which was why I did it, but for those reasons, it also didn’t pay much. And right now, I need the money.”
Shit. Why am I telling him this?
“Oh, yeah? Saving for some big adventure?” he asks, eyeing me.
“Something like that.”
“Something like that,” he repeats, arching a brow. “That’s it? That’s all I get? Friends,” he says, motioning between us. “Remember? Friends share things.”
I try to restrain my smile as I shake my head and glance down at the table.
Am I really going to tell him?
Oh hell, why not? Something tells me he’ll wring it out of me, anyway. Besides, I’m too excited not to share.
“Okay, fine.” I bite my lip, unsure of what he’ll think when I say, “I bought a house.”
“Wow, that’s . . .” He blinks, a hint of surprise and maybe even a little admiration shifting his masculine features. “Amazing,” he finishes. “Not too many juniors in college can say the same. Tell me about it.”
He smiles so wide, I can’t help myself as I say, “It’s actually off Drum Point Lake. This cute, yellow, three-bedroom house with a huge yard and lake view. It’s a foreclosure, so it sat empty for almost two years. I found it one day on a whim while driving around the lakefront. Waiting for it to finally go for sale was excruciating, but it was also probably a godsend because it allowed me to save more money. By the time it got listed a few months back, I’d been watching and waiting for what felt like forever, but I was also ready, so I snatched it up.”
“And so the extra money you make is for . . .?”
“Repairs. It needs a little TLC, and in order to fix it up, I’m going to need money. But it’ll be so worth it in the end if I can manage it. It’s a diamond in the rough. Honestly, most first homes are just a starter homes, but I can’t see myself living anywhere else.”
I can already see Sophie chasing butterflies in the front yard and catching fireflies at night. I envision watching the sunset over the water from the back porch. On the weekend, I can take Sophie for a morning row in the kayak I’ve yet to buy. Sundays, having brunch with a view. Planting flowers in the spring. Summer BBQs. Birthday parties beneath the canopy of the large weeping willow. Decorating for Christmas. So many memories are waiting on us.
Teagan’s eyes turn liquid as he stares at me with an expression I can’t read.
I drop my gaze and self-consciously tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. For one infinitesimal moment, with the warmth of his eyes on me, I feel full in a way I haven’t in a long time—maybe ever.
I shift in my seat, unsure what to do with this pressure inside my chest when our waitress arrives, saving me from the tension.
She delivers our pizzas, and Teagan thanks her with a dimpled smile before he turns his gaze back to mine, and my pulse flutters.
I wonder how many hearts he’s broken with that smile.
The thought dissipates as quickly as it came to me, and I busy myself with fixing Sophie’s plate, cutting her pizza in half so it’s easier for her to pick up, while I try to ignore the heat of his watchful gaze.
“So, you’re going to fix the house up yourself?” he asks, picking right back up where we left off. “That’s a big undertaking.”
His voice holds no judgment or disbelief, only awe.
“Some. I mean, there’s a tutorial for everything on YouTube nowadays, right?” I laugh, and though I’ve given this a lot of thought, I don’t want to bore him with the details, so I keep it short. “I can paint and spackle, hang doors, and change out locks and stuff like that. I’m even pretty certain I can manage any demo that’ll need done, and some of the flooring. But the roof needs to be replaced first, and I’ll hire out for the kitchen and bathrooms, too.”
Teagan shakes his head, staring at me from underneath a thick fringe of lashes. “You really are something, Lane Turner.”
I flush, giving him a small shrug. “A lot of people do it. I mean, I’m just like anyone else, trying to build a life for myself, and I really want to move out of my parents’ house, finally get a place of my own, so it just makes sense. It’s unfair to rely on them so much.”
“Yeah, maybe, but you say that like you’re a burden. I’m sure they love having you there. You’re, what? Twenty-one?”
I nod in answer, and he continues, “So, you’re not even out of school yet. You’ve got time. Most kids our age live with their parents. I’d probably do the same if I went to a university back home if it meant saving money.”
I slide Sophie’s plate in front of her and warn her it’s hot before fixing one of my own while Teagan does the same. “Yeah, I guess. But my circumstances aren’t . . . typical.”
A crease forms between his brow and I can tell he’s about to ask me about it. Seeing as how I’m not really in the mood to broach the subject of how I became a teen mom, I strike first. “Where is home for you? Tell me about it.”
He lights up like a Christmas tree at my question, a warmth in his expression that was previously missing. “Riverside, Ohio. It’s a small town outside the city and easily one of my favorite places. Maybe that has more to do with the fact that all my favorite people have come from there, but I love it regardless. My parents and little sisters are still back home. There’s quite the age gap there, so it’ll be a while until my folks are empty nesters, which takes a bit of the burden off my shoulders since I moved away. My twin, Brynn, was probably the hardest to leave, though.”
“You’re close with her?”
“You could say that. I guess we have the typical twin connection people talk about.”
It warms my heart to hear he’s close to his family, and the affection in his voice as he speaks about them isn’t lost on me. It’s something we both share. “And where is she at now?”
“Brynn? She goes to Ann Arbor University with my best friend Jace. They’re”—he waves a hand out in front of him and his face twists—“kind of a thing now.”
My brows rise, interest piqued. “Your sister and your best friend?”
“Yep,” he says, taking a bite of his pizza. “Took a hot minute to get used to the idea.” He grimaces, and I laugh.
“I can imagine, but he’s your best friend for a reason, right? So obviously, you’d be happy he’s with her.”
He grunts and swallows. “Now you sound just like Brynn. But no matter how good of a guy he is, no one wants to think about his best friend”—his gaze flickers to Sophie, then back—“doing the horizontal mambo with his twin sister.”
I snort. I can only imagine his colorful language if not for Sophie, and the effort to censor himself around her tugs at my heartstrings. Not everyone our age is as considerate. Even Gabby and my parents slip around her from time to time.
“As much as I hate to admit it, though, they’re great together,” he continues. “And he was already like a brother to me, so it could be a lot worse.” He trails off, his eyes darkening before he shakes his head and shrugs. “Who the hell knows, maybe Jace will be my brother for real one day.”
“That’s sweet.”
“You think I’m sweet?” He arches a brow, his tone teasing.
I lower my gaze, unable to help the smile splitting my face.
Are all guys this open and honest on a first . . . outing? I don’t even know what to call this since it’s not a date, but it has me wondering. Chance was the only guy I ever really fell for, and looking back, he wasn’t exactly an open book where I was concerned. In hindsight, I’m not sure I should’ve been so shocked when he chose football over me—over us.
“So, why football?” I ask, taking a bite of my food.
Beside me, Sophie eats while she quietly flips through the dinosaur book I bought her a few days ago.
A crease appears between Teagan’s brow as if considering his answer. “My father and I used to play together in the backyard and watch football on Sundays,” he tells me. “In a house full of women, it was something just for us, which was kind of incredible. Then, as I grew older, I met some of my best friends on the field. Not a lot compares to the kind of camaraderie you gain from pushing yourself to the limit for your team and relying on each other on the field. Life can get crazy, but once you have a ball in your hand and your cleats in the dirt, it’s as if all the threads of your life unravel. Nothing else matters. Everything besides the game just fades away until it’s only you and your team with a single goal.”
The depth and heart behind his answer surprises me. Then again, I’m starting to learn to expect the unexpected with him.
The apples of his cheeks flush as he grimaces. “Does that sound lame?”
“No,” I shake my head. “Not at all. It sounds wonderful, actually, and I think my father would agree.”
“Speaking of your father, I can imagine growing up with Coach Turner and living under the same roof as a ball buster was tough,” he says, and his eyes immediately widen, then land on Sophie before he winces, “Sorry.”
I chuckle. “Trust me, she’s heard worse, but I appreciate it.”
I know how the guys talk around each other, and Teagan is keeping it PG, something that’s far more endearing than I’d like to admit.
“Can I have more?” Sophie interrupts.
I reach toward the pan of pepperoni and grab Sophie a fresh slice, then cut it and put it on her plate.
“To answer your question . . .” I sit back in the booth, considering. Coach Turner is a far cry from Ed Turner, the father. “He was strict growing up, that’s for sure.”
They had high standards for me, which I easily met.
I was the perfect daughter, until I wasn’t.
“But as far as dads go, he’s actually a big softie.”
“Coach? My coach?” Teagan chokes out.
I nod. “I know it’s hard to believe, but he has a bleeding heart. He’s only tough as nails on the field.”
“Give me an example.” Teagan smiles, seeming to enjoy this insight into my father as he takes another bite of pizza.
I take a sip of my water, while my thoughts drift.
He’s never been anything more than a giant teddy bear with me, even after I shattered his image of the perfect daughter. Overnight, his innocent little girl got pregnant, yet he never made me feel anything less than because of it. Though, I suppose, I did a good enough job of beating myself up. Instead, he accepted me and my mistakes while supporting me every step of the way. Even when I tested his limits and told him the father was a boy from California visiting for football camp, who wanted nothing to do with the baby and not to contact him, he took me at my word. He respected my wishes.
I still live with the guilt of that lie every day.
But I didn’t feel as though I had any other choice. The truth would ruin everything and I’d already turned our world upside down; I wasn’t going to ruin my father’s future in college football, too. Getting pregnant at sixteen, then having a baby at seventeen was already a burden on them. No point in making an already hard situation harder, and the last thing I wanted was for my father to sacrifice his dream because of my mistakes.
Which brings me to Chance.
My father took him under his wing at the age of twelve when he coached him for the first time at a camp. Chance’s parents had been out of the picture since he was young, leaving his elderly grandmother to raise him, so when Dad offered himself up as a mentor, Chance took it.
“Chance Lockhart, for one,” I blurt, then wish I hadn’t.
Bringing up the father of my child—my biggest secret—probably isn’t the smartest move, all things considered.
“Chance?” Teagan blinks.
I nod, wishing I hadn’t said anything. “By the time my father met him in junior high, he was being raised by his grandmother, who was older. She meant well and did her best, but it was hard keeping up with a young boy, so when Chance came into the program, my father sort of took him under his wing. He stepped up and became the father figure he needed.”
Which is precisely why it would crush him if he knew Chance was Sophie’s father. After everything my father did for him, for Chance to knock me up is one thing. For him to abandon us is unforgivable. And I don’t want to be the one to break my father’s heart. Just like I didn’t want to crush his dreams of coaching for a division one college team.
“So, did he get Chance the full ride at CU?”
A slightly bitter laugh bubbles from my lips.
No, I want to say, it’s the other way around, but I don’t.
There are some things I’ll take to the grave and my father getting the job on account of Chance is one of them; it’s too closely tied to the reason I lied about him being Sophie’s father. But the fact that I want to tell Teagan at all says something about his character.
I have no time and no energy, no room in my life for a male friend with questionable intentions, but Teagan’s . . . different. It’s the best way to describe him, other than to say I’m comfortable around him. Even with Sophie, which speaks volumes. I generally trust no one outside of my inner circle with her.
“So you must know him pretty well, then? Chance, I mean,” Teagan says, and I get the feeling he’s fishing.
“You could say that.” I fidget with my napkin. “He was around a lot in high school, that’s for sure.” A bit too much, actually.
Teagan nods slowly, taking in this newfound information, and I wonder what he thinks of it. I wonder if he’s questioning whether anything ever happened when he asks, “But you never . . . dated?”
I shake my head no at the same time his gaze flickers toward the entrance of the restaurant and hardens.
“Speak of the devil,” he mutters.
I blink for a second, absorbing his words before my stomach sinks.
Turning, I crane my neck, knowing what I’ll find when I zero in on Chance hovering around the hostess counter.
Shit.
I duck back into the booth and squeeze my eyes shut, praying he didn’t see me. After the last two conversations we had, the last thing I want is for him to come over here and ruin our good time. Not to mention, I completely loathe him in Sophie’s presence. The way he ignores her only serves to piss me off even more.
When I open my eyes, they lock with Teagan’s.
He’s watching me, and I have no doubt I look just as panicked as I feel when he says, “He’s coming this way.”
All the blood drains from my face.
I have no idea what Chance wants or what he might say. We don’t make it a habit of interacting these days. In fact, our conversations at practice have been the first we’ve had in a very long time.
A shadow falls over me and I know it’s him.
With any luck, he’s here for Teagan.
Maybe it’s something for the team, and he’ll get whatever he wants, then go.
Teagan leans back in the booth, stretching his arms above his head, limbs loose and relaxed, even when Chance’s eyes narrow to slits.
“Hey, man, what’s up?” Teagan drawls.
“Didn’t Coach warn us about fraternizing with his daughter?”
My head jerks to find Chance’s sneer as he glances over at me, but when his gaze flickers to Sophie, his pupils dilate, like he’s surprised she’s here.
My hackles rise as I draw her into my side, further from view.
“No,” Teagan drawls, then drops his arms back onto the table. “I believe Coach only warned us not to date her, hit on her, or harass her. This is none of those things because we’re friends.” He flashes me a dimpled smile. “Last I recall, he never said we couldn’t be friends with her.”
The muscle in Chance’s jaw flickers, his eyes turning to gunmetal as he stares him down. A minute of silence passes, the tension pulling like a tightrope between us before he turns back to me, his posture rigid as he asks, “Can I have a word with you?”
I swallow. Across the table, I feel Teagan’s gaze on me, and our eyes meet.
I wonder if he’s questioning the parameters of my relationship with Chance? Maybe even drawing his own conclusions.
“I can’t just leave Sophie . . .” I trail off, turning to where she’s eating her pizza, still tucked into my side, mostly ignoring us as she flips through the pages of her book.
“I think she’d be fine for two minutes.” He rolls his eyes, like anything otherwise would be ridiculous, and I want to deck him.
“No, Chance, she wouldn’t,” I grind out, “She’s four, not—”
“Have your friend watch her, then.” He arches a brow in challenge.
My nostrils flare. Loathing spreads through my limbs like long, broad strokes of a paintbrush, until I want to scream. How did I ever see this man as anything more than he is: a complete narcissist whose only concern is for himself?
Teagan slides from the booth, rises to his feet, and when he squares his shoulders, straightening to full height, his presence dwarfs everything else in the room, including Chance. “Maybe you should leave,” he says, the playful edge in his voice gone.
Chance scoffs. “I don’t think so, buddy. Not until I speak with her.”
“Doesn’t look like she wants to talk to you.”
Chance’s eyes narrow. “I don’t take orders from freshmen,” he says, and when he tries to sidestep Teagan, the latter stops him with a hand to the chest.
My heart jumps in my throat. Though I’m grateful for how readily he’s come to my defense, I don’t want to be the source of tension between them. Teagan’s a good guy; I don’t need to spend any more time with him to know that. But Chance will choose himself every time, and if there’s any advantage to gain from tearing Teagan down, he’ll take it. Teagan has already been given a warning from my father, and I wouldn’t put it past Chance to cause him more problems because of his own wounded pride.
Chance’s gaze darkens, his gaze homing in on Teagan’s hand. “Awful protective of her for just a friend,” he snarls.
His eyes lift at the same time I slide from the booth, coming between them. “We can talk,” I say before I turn to Teagan. “Do you mind?” I nod toward Sophie.
Teagan’s jaw clenches, but he offers me a curt nod and sits back down. “Not at all.”
Steering Chance away from the booth, I storm toward the back of the pizza parlor to the alcove by the bathrooms. From here, I can still see their booth, but we’re also far enough away that they can’t overhear us.
Anger spikes my veins as I cross my arms over my chest. First, the conversations on the field, and now this. He’s seriously stepping over some boundaries. I have no idea what’s gotten into him, but he’s about two seconds away from me releasing years of pent-up frustration.
“What are you even doing here?” I hiss.
Chance flinches. “What am I doing here? That’s rich, considering I show up here to grab a takeout order, and I see you with my teammate and my daughter.”
I jerk back as if I’ve been slapped.
Blinking up at him, I try and focus through the emotions ping-ponging inside my brain, but my pulse pounds so loudly in my ears, I can’t think straight. “Your daughter?” A bitter sound escapes my lip, part laugh, part huff of disbelief. “Suddenly, after four fucking years, she’s your daughter now?”
He shifts on his feet, spearing a hand through his hair. “You know what I mean.”
“No. I don’t. Being a sperm donor and her father are two very different things.”
His mouth pinches, but he has the good sense to keep it shut, and I can tell by the way his eyes rake over me, he’s contemplating his next words. “Okay, you’re right,” he says in a level tone.
I swallow over my surprise.
“But I still would like to know what you’re doing here with Nichols. Are you just trying to fuck with me? Is that what this is about? Some sort of punishment after I pulled you aside and told you how I felt?”
Laughter bubbles in my chest. “Oh, you mean when you told me to get a new job? You’re unreal.”
I shake my head and try to brush past him, but he grabs my arm to stop me. “Does your father know you’re here with him?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not hiding anything, Chance. And if you must know, I met Teagan before I even agreed to work with the team.” Technically. “He’s my friend, like he said. Nothing more.” I wrench my arm out of his grip, then glance toward the booth to check on Soph, only to see her showing Teagan something in her book. “And he wouldn’t even needed to give that little warning if I hadn’t gotten knocked up by a jock at football camp,” I grind out.
Chance swallows and his cheeks flush before he finally nods. “Fair enough. If you say you’re friends, I believe you.”
“I’m so relieved.” I start to brush past him before I pause and look him square in the eyes. “And just so we’re clear, I don’t owe you an explanation, Chance. The only reason I gave you one was for Teagan’s sake. But don’t question me again, you hear me?”