Chapter 9 #2
“Don’t worry about Coach.” I gesture to the dark front windows. “He’ll be in the kitchen cleaning up. The man is a total neat freak.”
Her expression softens. “What do you want, Knox?”
She sounds tired. I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms and hold her, but after tonight’s revelations, I’m not sure it would be a welcome move. Not in Coach’s driveway, anyway.
“For starters,” I say, resting a hand on the door to her SUV, “I’d like to know why you weren’t straight with me about your job?”
What the hell, St. James?
I know, I know. We have far more pressing concerns. But it’s been gnawing at my brain all evening, and I need to know.
“I didn’t lie. Technically, I am a mental health consultant.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “I just didn’t specify what kind because people can get weird about it. They ask if I can introduce them to athletes and get tickets and— Well, you know how it is.”
I do. Eventually, your relationships start to feel transactional. It’s one of the reasons I’m selective about who I let into my circle.
Which brings us back to the real issue.
I shove my fingers into my hair and pace as I order my thoughts.
Okay, so we both skirted the truth about our careers, but for valid reasons. Definitely not a deal-breaker. The only real deal-breaker is Coach. He’ll flay me if he knows I’m sleeping with his daughter.
Fuck.
For the first time in my life, I truly understand the phrase “Between a rock and a hard place.”
There are no good options here.
Piss off Coach, the only family I have, and possibly get benched, or worse, disowned.
Give up Ava and the future we might have, which is no fucking option at all.
There has to be a way to make this work. A solution I haven’t thought of. Preferably one that doesn’t end with Coach breaking my fingers.
I stop pacing and turn to Ava. “What are we going to do about you and me?”
“There can’t be a you and me,” she says softly. “We need to forget about what happened last night.”
Her words are a gut punch, but I’m not going down without a fight.
“There is no scenario where I can wipe last night from my memories.” I cup her cheek, and she touches my wrist, but makes no move to break contact.
“I loved every second of what we did in your bed. Watching you ride my cock and eating your pretty pink pussy after? That was the best night of my life.”
She laughs, but it comes out as a nervous warble. “I’m quite sure you’ve had better nights. You’ve won national titles. Got drafted—”
I press a finger to her lips. “Those things were amazing, but they don’t compare to you, darlin’. I know what it means to lose people and things you love, just like I know that when life brings you someone special, you fight like hell to hold on to them.”
“It’ll never work. We’re not just neighbors; we’re coworkers.” She sighs. “Not to mention the fact that we’re practically family.”
I grit my teeth. “We are not family.”
“We might as well be. Did you hear Adam?” A muscle in her jaw twitches. “You’re the son he never had.”
Guilt rears its ugly head, snatching the breath from my lungs. I cannot betray Coach any more than I can walk away from Ava.
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.
“Darlin’, there’s nothing brotherly about the way I feel when I look at you.” Her cheeks flush and she turns her head, releasing her grip on my arm. “We’ll figure this out.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t, no matter how strongly I feel about you.
” Ava looks up at me from under her lashes, and I can see her mentally building a wall, brick by brick.
“I waited my whole life to meet my father. We’re just getting to know one another.
Our relationship is too new, too…” She looks around as if searching for the words. “I just can’t risk it.”
I open my mouth to protest—to promise I’ll win Coach over—but she rushes ahead.
“Even if by some miracle my father gave his blessing, my contract explicitly prohibits fraternizing with players. I could be fired, and I need this job. Breaking through to the pros took years, and even now, it’s a temporary role.
A test run. Do you have any idea how hard it is to be a woman in a male-dominated field? ”
It’s a rhetorical question, but that doesn’t lessen the impact.
The fact that she even has to worry about the optics because of her gender is bullshit.
Having a vagina doesn’t make her any less capable of providing mental health support, but I get what she’s saying.
The world is full of misogynistic assholes.
“I can’t afford to screw this up.” She presses her fingertips to her temples. “Best case, I get a full-time offer from the Gliders. Worst case, I get a glowing recommendation and maybe I’m lucky enough to find a spot with another pro team.”
The idea of her leaving burns like hot coals in my chest.
“I hear you, and I fucking hate that you have to worry about misogynistic creeps who would use your personal life against you, but are you really willing to give this up so easily? Because I’m not.
You came back into my life for a reason, and I know deep in my gut that if I walk away, it will be the biggest mistake of my life. ”