Chapter 15 – RHETT
RHETT
“Coach, can you tell us what happened today in the parking lot between Crew Reyes and Russel Jones?”
I’m quickly learning that the worst part of this job is the press conferences.
“It was a personal matter that the team and players are handling privately.”
“Was Russel Jones invited by the team?”
“No, he was not. It’s why he didn’t view the team’s practice and stayed in the parking lot so as not to break any of the league’s rules. Next question.”
Tamira Braumer stands because that’s how she works.
Five-foot-something short in heels that are taller than she is, she always needs to be the center of attention.
“Coach, two questions. Is it true that Russel Jones is your son, and was the altercation today related to Quinn Reyes, Russel’s ex-girlfriend, who is the sister of Crew and Mason Reyes? ”
Well then. Tami did her homework and then some.
Not surprising from her, but not something I wanted to deal with today either. This will be a media storm in two seconds.
I grip the edge of the podium and let her know that was a fucked-up move at a live press conference. Not that she cares. “Yes, Russel Jones is my son. And I won’t speak to the altercation or the reasons behind it. Next.”
She gives me a smirk. One I’ve seen on her several times over the years.
About ten years ago, when I was at the end of my playing career, and she was starting her journalism career with another team, we had a small thing.
It didn’t last long. I was trying to figure out my next steps, which turned out to be a college coaching position since I couldn’t leave Florida because Russel was in high school.
She was a young, ambitious reporter out to make a name for herself.
I never told her about Russel because rule number one is never trust a reporter.
More than that, it was casual sex and nothing more. At least on my end.
That said, she didn’t like it when I ended things with her. She hated it when I didn’t give her secrets in the form of pillow talk. Honestly, she was boring, and after what I’d already been through with Russel’s mother, I’d had enough of opportunistic women trying to use me.
Except her question is kindling a forest fire, and every reporter in this room starts shouting questions about Russel at me. I hope he’s happy because his showing up here unannounced was quite the move. One that can’t be glossed over now.
Dallas will react.
The Rebels will too, and they don’t have to make a deal.
Russel took a hell of a chance, and I don’t understand his motives behind it.
He was supposed to meet me at my new place tonight. So what the fuck was he doing here this afternoon? In public, no less. Did he know he’d be seen? Or did he not care? He said he was here for Quinn. That he went to her hospital to see her, and they told him she was here.
He’s also been calling her.
“Coach?!”
The hits keep coming, and I let them, answering what I want and ignoring the others with artful brush-offs. By the time I’m done, it’s late into the afternoon. I’m sweaty, exhausted, and frustrated.
Asher sent me a message for a chat tomorrow morning. My players almost got into a brawl. The girl I’m more than a little into was at the center of it. It hasn’t even been a week, and already my job and career are on the line.
I grunt out a curse as I climb into the shower.
Hot water cascades over me, and my head bows while my outstretched hands plant into the tiled wall.
I have to decide what I’m going to do about Crew and Mason, and my instinct is nothing.
If it were my sister, I’d have done the same.
Asher said it was my call as the coach, but I’m not out to make an example of them for that.
As much as it makes me feel like an ass to say, Russel had it coming.
But it’s not Mason or Crew or even Russel who are occupying my thoughts at the moment. As per usual, it’s Quinn.
I’m positive she heard I’m Russel’s father by this point. It’s all over the internet, blasted across every news outlet and public forum. I’m also sure she hates me for it, along with everything else. I couldn’t help the note of pride when she nailed him in the balls. Again, he had it coming.
But she also stopped her brothers from going after him. Was that for Russel or for them? Does she miss him? And how do I make myself not care? How do I make it so that I’m not jealous of my fucking son?
He wants her back. I know he does. There’s no other reason he’d seek her out the way he did. No other reason—other than wanting a championship ring—that he’d make this kind of play to return to the Rebels. He’s not here for bonding time with me as much as I wish he were.
Then there’s what he said. How he fucked up with her. How Quinn isn’t the type of woman who men get second chances with. Not that I’d ever have the option. What we had is over. Even if every time I think that my stomach twists painfully.
A bang, bang, bang startles me out of my thoughts. Shit. Who the hell is pounding on my office door like that? Russel went to his hotel, so I know it’s not him. Is it Asher or the owner, Randolph here to fire me?
More banging.
“Just a second!” I shut off the water and climb out of the shower, hastily throwing a towel around my waist. If they’re going to fire me, I’d much prefer them to do it when I’m dressed, but it seems I don’t have that option.
I open the bathroom door and step out to find Quinn standing in the middle of my office, looking beautiful and furious. Air seizes in my chest.
Too young for you. Your son’s ex-girlfriend, whom he may still want. Your boss’s daughter. Your players’ sister. Forever offsides to you! She’s the ultimate penalty I’d take all the punishments for. Except that’s not an option.
Yet somehow I still take a step in her direction as if magnetized. Her eyes rake over my wet, naked chest. My cock stiffens beneath my towel, and there isn’t dick all—pun intended—I can do to stop or hide it.
“I have so many things to yell at you about, I hardly know where to begin.”
“That’s fair.” I clear my throat.
“He’s your son?”
I swallow thickly. “Yes.”
Her green eyes burn at me, and I can tell she’s hurt, which I hate. I don’t like hurting her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I sigh and brush back my wet hair from my forehead. “Do you want the truth or a bullshit excuse that’ll be easier for you to hear?”
She gives me an impatient look.
“Truth it is. I didn’t tell you because you hated him.
” I hold up my hand to stop her before she can argue.
“With good reason. But you hate him, and it was fucking me up that I… that I not only slept with my son’s ex-girlfriend but had also been talking to her for four months and developed feelings for her.
Strong feelings. Maybe stronger than I should have given my lack of knowledge over your personal details.
” My face heats, and I’m like a teenager again, giving away more than I should.
I shift my stance and grip the knot on my towel tighter.
“Anyway, I was a bit of a coward, and I didn’t know what to say to you.
I didn’t want you to hate me because of him.
Childish, I know, but it is what it is.” I laugh ruefully.
“Actually it’s been eating me alive all week.
I’ve slept like shit. I had sixty million plans for us, and it turns out the first woman I’ve cared about in decades is the one I can never have. ”
She blinks rapidly. “The first woman you’ve cared about in decades?”
I chuckle. “I already admitted I like you a lot more than I should.”
“But—”
My eyebrows dance, and my lips twitch. “That’s what you’re focusing on?”
Her hands go to her hips. “No. Yes. Kind of.”
I toss up my hands. “Yes. As pathetic as that sounds, that’s been my life. This shouldn’t be news to you. You honestly know more about me than anyone.”
It’s true. We talked. We told each other things. No daily life things, but real things. Things that matter.
She sputters for a moment, only to regroup and recharge her efforts. “You still should have told me.”
I nod. “I know. I’m truly sorry, and you have every right to your anger.”
She grunts. “Don’t be so easy about this. I want a fight.”
I rub at my smile. “I gathered that. Fine. Yell at me.” I wiggle my fingers at my chest. “Don’t hold back. I can take it.”
She eats up the distance between us, her eyes narrowing and her eyebrows slanting.
“You should have told me,” she repeats. “You should have called me, and we should have had a real conversation about all of this. I shouldn’t have had to find out that my ex-boyfriend wants back on this team by him showing up, nor should I have found out today,” she emphasizes, “from my father that you’re his dad only to then read about it all over the internet. ”
“I’m sorry. I’m a broken record with that, but I am, and I mean it. It’s not lip service. I should have adulted up and talked to you, but you’re kind of intimidating, Dr. Reyes.”
“Don’t charm or flirt with me.”
“Right. Sorry. That was instinct. I’m done now.”
“A reporter knew about it before I did. She also knew my name and that I used to date him. How?”
“That I don’t know. I don’t know if Russel told her at some point or if she got wind of the trade talk and did more digging into him. I honestly couldn’t say without talking to her, and that’s not something I like to do.”
She squints at me. “How come?”
“I’m sure you can guess.”
Her nose scrunches up, and I hold out my hand to her again.
“It was a long time ago, back when I was still a player. And before you can ask, it wasn’t anything more than physical. Nothing like how I think about you.”
She shoves my shoulder, and the feel of her hand on my hot skin, even in violence, isn’t helping my dick situation.
“Stop saying the right things! Stop being so fucking perfect! I’m trying really hard not to like you.”
I can’t stand that she wants me to be the villain. That I may actually be yet another man who didn’t treat her well. Another Jones. “Quinn, I’m not an asshole.”
“No, you just raised one.”