Chapter 22
Colin
I’M NO CLOSER to keeping my promise to Sam a week later. Everything else is going so well, but this? In the toilet.
I give myself five minutes to wallow, lying my head on the edge of the desk and staring at the floor.
Annulments in Las Vegas are impossible. That whole “what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas” saying is utter bullshit. At least when it comes to marriage. Or, at least, nothing I find is telling me that I can get us one. Not unless we do an actual divorce. In person. Together. In front of a judge.
Awesome.
I grab my phone, still staring at the floor, and video call my sister.
“Colin?”
“Don’t sound so surprised that I’m calling.” I try to tease her, but my laugh is half-hearted at best.
“What are you doing?” She tilts her head. “Is that your ceiling?”
I angle myself up but slump in the chair. “Better?”
“Hang on.”
I hear a shuffling and her muffled words to Mom, then nothing for several moments.
“Okay. What’s going on?”
“Wait – where are you?”
“Home.”
A pang of homesickness hits me like a wrecking ball. “Is the snow still there?”
She laughs. “Of course.”
“Can you…go outside?”
“Aw, big brother.” Her voice goes soft with understanding. “Sure. Let me get my jacket and boots.”
A few minutes later, Erin opens the back door and I’m looking at a winter wonderland.
They’d gotten six inches yesterday, and Erin sent me a video of the dachshunds damn near losing their minds in fury at it.
They hate the snow, but they've gotta go out to use the bathroom.
Their dramatics never cease to make me smile.
It’s late afternoon, and the sun is putting on a show as it sinks, bathing the sky in pale pinks, oranges and purples.
Mount Mansfield rises in the distance, snow-capped and gorgeous as always.
I miss it. I take a deep breath and let it out.
It’s not nearly as good as being there, but it’s as good as I’m going to get.
Erin takes a few steps to the right, her boots crunching in the quiet. She flips the screen back to her face, her mouth pinched. “So what’s going on?”
I stare at her. “I’ve…really messed up, Erin.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh, my God. Did you get a rugger hugger pregnant?”
I sputter a shocked laugh. “What? No!”
“Did you cover it up for one of your players?”
“No!”
“Then it’s not that bad.” She rolls her eyes. “Don’t get me all worked up over nothing, Colin.”
“Oh, it’s not nothing,” I warn.
“How bad could it possibly be?” She scoffs. “It’s you. Mr. I Have Everything Under Control and Can’t Be Pulled Off-Course.”
“I married a woman I’d known for five hours in Las Vegas, and I bailed the next morning, and now she’s the physical therapist for the team. And she hates me, but also I think she likes me, and I…fuck, I like her. Also we had sex before Christmas and…yeah.”
Erin gapes at me as a bird chirps in the pine tree behind her. “I’m sorry. What?”
“I told you.”
“Aliens are real. That’s the only explanation. The real Colin has been abducted and some tiny green man is using your body as a meat sack.”
I shiver. “Please, for all that is holy, don’t ever refer to me as a meat sack.”
“Okay, fine. But…all that really happened?” She squints at me, and she looks so much like our mom that for a second it feels like I’m about to be grounded.
“It did.”
“How? None of that is you, big bro. You aren’t the kind of guy to do any of what you just said.”
I blow out a breath and slide down the couch. “I know. But she’s…magnificent. And irritating.”
She smiles, her whole face lighting up with joy. “You actually did it.”
“It’s not something to smile over.”
“You fucked up good.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
Her smile fades as she fixes me with a stern glare. “You have to fix this.”
I nod. “Believe me, I know.”
“You’re married.”
“Yes.”
“Married.”
An exasperated sigh leaves me. “I know!”
She shakes her head. “It’s too cold for this shit. Hang on. You’re giving me the whole story, but not until I get inside.”
“Do not tell Mom.” I glare at the screen.
She snorts. “As if I’d do that to her.”
A few minutes later, she’s safely tucked in a room where Mom can’t hear, and I give her the rundown. Her disbelief doesn’t get any better as I talk. But by the time I’ve finished, I feel oddly lighter.
“You, my dear brother, are a fucking asshole,” she declares.
I wince, the momentary lift of unburdening myself gone. “I know.”
“No. I don’t think you really do. Fuck, Colin.”
I stand and pace to the corner of my office, looking out over the empty pitch. “I’m well aware of what I’ve done. I married the woman of my dreams, then ran so fast it was a miracle I didn’t get a speeding ticket. And I get down here and find out she’s the PT for my new team.”
“You what?” The voice is deep and very, very Scottish.
I whirl around. Lennox is standing in the center of my office, a murderous look on his face.
“Erin, I’ve got to go.”
“What? No –”
I click the phone off and stare at Lennox.
He stares back, his already-ruddy skin approaching tomato territory. “Please tell me I misunderstood everything I just heard.”
My phone pings.
“You shouldn’t have heard anything, because you should have knocked.”
“Too late,” he shoots back, then points a meaty finger at me. “You’re married to Sam, aren’t yeh?”
For one blissful second, I consider lying. I cross over to my desk and toss my phone as it pings again. One pissed-off person at a time, Erin. “Yes.”
“You love her?”
The question startles me, and I jerk my head up to look closer at him. “Lennox, why did you come up here? You okay?”
He waves my concern away. “I’m fine. Answer the question. Do you love her?”
I don’t answer. Because I can’t. Because…fuck.
Lennox chuckles. “Aye, Coach. It’s a bugger of a feeling, innit?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You got someone, Campbell?”
He makes a dismissive snort, but his cheeks flush even deeper. “We’re not talking about me. How are we fixing this?”
It’s my turn for the dismissive sound. “There’s no ‘we’ here.”
“Ah, but there is.” He rubs his hands together gleefully. “Give me the full story.”
I stare at him. “Absolutely not.”
“Absolutely yes.”
“No.”
“Coach, respectfully, whoever you were talking to wasn’t helping you.”
“My sister.”
“Well, she’s shite at this.”
“And you’re so much better?”
“Better than her, and clearly better than you.”
I shake my head. He’s my player. This is insane. Right?
He snaps his fingers and pivots to the cabinets I’ve never bothered with, his knees cracking as he squats to open the doors. “Jackpot,” he says, turning to brandish a bottle of Scotch. “Not the good stuff, but it’ll do.”
With a resigned sigh, I take a seat on the couch and accept the drink he puts in my hand.
“I kin yer not a big drinker, so drink it or no, but this seems like a time to at least have it at the ready,” Lennox says.
“How do you know that?”
“That you’re not a drinker? Come on, Coach – everybody knows that. It’s no big secret, is it?”
I shake my head. “I’m just surprised.”
He raises a bushy brow as he settles onto the couch. “You being married to Sam is the secret. Except it’s obvious to anyone who bothers to look.”
“That’s not – we’re not – I mean –” I nearly choke in my hurry to deny it, but once I clock the look on Lennox’s face, I realize I’ve got no chance.
“You done?” he asks with a smirk.
I look down at the Scotch in my hand and seriously consider tossing it all down in one go. Instead, I meet his eyes and nod. “I suppose I am. Wanna tell me who else is as observant as you?”
He shrugs. “Dunno. I don’t make a habit of gossiping about my coach.” His smirk morphs into a grin. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want all the details, though. Your secret’s safe with me.”
For some ridiculous reason I can’t explain, I actually believe him. So I raise the glass in a toast, take a small sip, and confess the entire sordid story for the second time today. Minus the sex on the very same couch we’re sitting on.
When I’m done, he finishes his drink and takes mine out of my hands. “Yer kind of an asshole, you know that, right?” He smiles as if that’ll lessen the sting of his words.
“What choice have I had? If I go to the president and tell him, I’m fired and Sam loses her job.” And I lose any chance I have of getting Sam to forgive me. And Ollie.
Shit. Ollie. Nausea swirls in my gut at the thought.
Lennox pours my Scotch into his glass and raises it to his lips. “I still think you need to speak up.” Then he drinks.
“Not happening, Campbell. And I need you to keep this quiet.”
His eyes flash to mine. “Who all knows?”
“You. Sam.”
He sucks his teeth. “You know that means Elodie and Kari know.”
My blood goes cold. “No.”
“Aye,” he states. “Those three are thick as thieves.”
I groan and curse as I rub my hands over my face. How does this get worse with every passing moment?
Lennox grunts. “Eh, it’s fine. But you need to make this right.”
“No shit. I thought you said you were better at this than my sister?”
He chuckles. “That was before I knew ye married her and bailed on her in under twelve hours. That’s the most arsehole move I’ve ever heard of. No offense, of course.”
“Offense taken.”
He grins. “Fair. But listen. Kari won’t let a peep out. No way will she let a scandal rock the team.”
I study him. There’s a story there. I can’t pinpoint it, but it’s there. Something about the way he says Kari’s name. “You’re right. And you? You’ll stay quiet?”
He tosses back the last of his drink and stands. “Not a word.”
I rise and hold out my hand. “Thank you.” I’m not sure how confident I am that he’ll keep his mouth shut. But it’s not like I’ve got a choice here.
He shakes it, a shit-eating grin on his face. “No thanks needed. I absolutely think you’re doing the wrong thing.” His eyes are bright. “And it’ll bite you in the ass before yeh know it.”
I stare at the darkened pitch after he leaves, lost in thought.
If Kari knows…she’s PR. Surely she’ll keep it quiet.
But what if rumors start? Maybe I should go to Scott and confess now, before the season starts.
I’ll take the hit so Sam can stay. Ryan and Elliot will step up and take care of the coaching duties; maybe one of them will get the head coach job.
And Ollie. I’d have to talk with him privately, somehow explain things in a way that keeps him from hating me.
The kid has wormed his way into my heart, nearly as much as his sister has.
“Do you love her?”
Lennox’s question rattles around my head. Do I? She frustrates the absolute hell out of me. She’s smart, so fucking sexy it hurts to look at her sometimes. The way it feels to make her laugh, and the brief second she let me in on that couch…
No one can know. Keeping this quiet is the only way I won’t hurt someone I love. Because it really might be love.
I am so fucked.