Chapter 8 – QUINN #3
He emits another humorless laugh and scrubs his hands up and down his face beneath his glasses, which bob up and down. “Quinn…” He trails off and releases a heavy breath into his hands before they drop to his sides. His tone is pleading. Desperate. “What the hell do we do about this?”
“I’m sorry.” My voice catches, and I hate that. I hate all of this.
“You’re sorry?” He spins around and lands with his back against the wall, kicking his foot up into the painted cinderblocks. “Don’t be fucking sorry. Tell me how this doesn’t matter.”
I peek up at him through my lashes, something close to grief scratching at my skin. He’s the first man I’ve liked in four years. He’s the first one I put myself out there to. “You tell me first.” My voice is low and small.
His hands climb to the top of his head again. He can’t. That’s the problem. This doesn’t just matter. It’s everything.
“I need this job,” he says plainly. “It’s my chance. It’s my first head coach position. Your father took a chance on me. He gave me my shot.”
I shift my weight and stare down at the painted concrete beneath my feet. “I’m not asking you to give that up for me. I’m a resident. A student, essentially. They’re my family, and this is my job. I can’t compromise either.”
He’s silent, but I can feel his hard eyes boring into the top of my head as if he’s trying to talk himself out of things he shouldn’t. As if he’s actually debating this.
But there is no debate.
Not for either of us.
If he turns down the job, he has to leave Boston. This is the first time we’ve seen each other in person in months. Yes, we’ve texted practically daily for four months. Yes, we had that FaceTime sex. Yes, it’s been above everything else.
But what would he tell my father or brothers?
And what happens if—when—we don’t work out? He’s a lot older than I am—he has to be if he’s the new head coach—and I already know how my family will feel about that.
“Quinn…”
“I know.”
“No, baby girl. You don’t.” He sighs, utterly decimated. “No one else knows. Right?”
I snort. “You mean, do I tell my brothers and my father who I fuck? No. Besides, all I knew was your first name.”
He smirks ruefully. “That was a rather expressive way of saying that. A simple no would have sufficed.”
I shrug. “I’m not really a simple kind of girl.”
“No. You’re definitely not.” His gaze dances about my face, and I can’t help but return the favor.
It’s unfortunate how hot he is. How I remember his face and body a little clearly.
“I was going to call you tonight. I was going to invite you over for takeout pizza and show you my new place that’s all boxes.
I was going to ask you for all the details we’ve avoided and then tell you that I was willing to take whatever you could give me and ask the same in return. ”
My eyes glass over and my heart aches. “Stop. Please. That won’t make this easier.”
“Nothing about this is easy.” He kicks forward until he’s practically on top of me. His hand cups my jaw, and his thumb drags along my bottom lip. “I wasn’t done with you. Quinn, I was just getting started. I could talk to them. We could. We’d tell them our story and see what they have to say.”
I shiver at the gruff way he says that and the feel of his warm, calloused hand on me.
I don’t date athletes. I don’t date sports figures.
They move around a lot.
My father is an anomaly, but when my mother met him, she was already an attending. She could move if he had needed to.
I have one more year after this one left on my residency, and after that, I’ll need a fellowship. I’ve worked too hard and too long, and so has he. I’d never ask him to give up this opportunity.
My stomach pretzels in on itself.
“And what if they had a problem with it?” I shake my head. “Scratch that. They’ll have a problem with it.”
His eyes close. “I… I want to say I don’t care.”
“I care. And you do too. You’re the new head coach, and I’m the new team doctor, and you work for my father and coach my brothers.”
A sigh exhausts from his lips. He looks winded. All flushed and sweaty and out of sorts. “I suppose you’re right.”
“It’s not what I want. But reality is reality. Anything between us would be inappropriate. But more than that, forbidden.”
Right? I mean, that’s how it feels. Like that’s how my brain is telling me it is. But when I look at him… all I can see is that he’s the first guy I’ve liked in four fucking years.
He straightens his spine, and his expression shudders. “From here on out, we’re professionals. No more texts. No more calls.”
I shift my weight to hide the sting. I held back for so long and that night when he FaceTimed me did me in. Still, he’s right. This is how it has to be.
“It never happened.”
He sticks his hand out to me. “It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Reyes. Welcome to the team.”
“You too, Coach.”
Our hands touch, and with it, the same prickle of heat and energy from that night tickles my palm and raises the hairs on my arm. That’s not a good reaction to have.
He gives my hand a small tug until I’m against his chest. His mouth dips to my ear, and he says, “It all happened. Every second of it. We’ll just be the only two people who know or think about it.”