Chapter 16 Ava
AVA
It’s been two glorious weeks of scorching hot sex and orgasms aplenty, and thanks to Knox, I’ve finally figured out the best route to work to avoid the worst of the traffic.
I roll up to the Iceplex with that Friday feeling, a latte in hand and my spirits high.
The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and the crisp scent of fall hangs in the air.
It’s going to be a good day. I can feel it.
I breeze through the back offices, greeting one of the assistant coaches and an athletic trainer who shares the office next to mine. I’ve been here for three weeks, and so far, everyone has been warm and welcoming, except Dr. Banks.
Thankfully, I haven’t seen him in days. He has a habit of showing up when and where I least expect him, and he never gives me advance notice when he’ll be onsite. I haven’t decided if it’s because he’s trying to keep me on my toes or if professional courtesy is simply beneath him.
I let myself into my tiny office and drop my stuff on the desk, careful not to spill my coffee.
My phone buzzes and I dig it out of my tote.
Knox: I hope you had a good time last night because I sure did.
I came so hard it’s a wonder I didn’t wake the neighbors, but that doesn’t mean I can’t tease him a bit.
Me: It was a solid 7/10.
Knox: Darlin’, if that’s a challenge, I’m up for it.
Of that I have no doubt. Knox continues to be patient even when I need extra time or a change in position. He remains just as enthusiastic and dedicated as he was the first time we had sex.
It’s liberating. He’s given me the confidence to try things I never imagined myself doing, and for that I’m grateful. I just don’t know how I’m going to give him up when the time comes. There’s no expiration date on our arrangement, but it can’t go on forever.
Eventually, we’re either going to get caught, or we’ll have to come clean and my life will implode. In both scenarios, I lose.
It will be goodbye dad and goodbye job. Or worse, both.
No, worse would be Knox losing interest and finding someone new.
He’s too perfect to be single for long.
My gut twists at the thought of Knox with another woman. It’s downright selfish, but there it is. Even though I can’t be with him in the way that he wants—the way that he needs—I don’t want him to be with anyone else either.
Great. Now I’m jealous of a hypothetical girlfriend.
Don’t hang your wash on someone else’s line.
Nana’s sharp refrain has me ducking my head in shame, though there’s no one to see it.
If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s Knox.
He’s warm and compassionate, and he wears his heart on his sleeve, despite the fact that he’s experienced heartbreaking loss.
When a person faces tragedy, they’re often afraid to let others get close.
They’d rather be alone than risk losing someone else they love, but Knox isn’t like that.
Heck, he’s the opposite.
He cares deeply. He doesn’t hold back, and when he does fall in love, well, she’ll be the luckiest woman in the world.
I didn’t understand it at first—the intensity of his emotions—but after that night in his bed, when he told me about his parents, everything started to click. The way he feels so much responsibility for the team’s success. His tight bond with Adam. The way he goes full-tilt when he wants something.
It’s his trauma response.
Granted, it’s healthier than most, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be harmful. No one person is meant to carry the weight of an entire franchise on their back, and it doesn’t diminish the fact that the loss of his parents changed him, shaped him in ways that continue to influence his choices today.
Choices he has every right to make, like entering into a purely physical, no-strings situationship with a woman who can’t give him what he really wants: a relationship.
Maybe that makes me the pot and the kettle, but no matter how much I want to be with Knox—not matter how much I want more—I can’t.
I’m out of my element in a new city, with a new parent, and a new job.
Just being with him, even in this small way, puts everything I’ve worked for in jeopardy.
It’s terrifying, and though fear hovers at the edge of my consciousness, I still choose to be with him. I still choose Knox.
I tap out my reply. If he’s up to the challenge, so am I.
Me: My place, 9?
I shove my phone into my pocket, gather my supplies, and head for the locker room.
The team and I are falling into a routine. Each morning before practice, we do group sessions, and then after practice, I focus on individual sessions. Most of the guys have come in with an open mind, and I’m optimistic that we’re making progress.
I want them to win games, but more than anything, I’d like them to start letting their guards down, with me and with each other.
That’s the key.
These guys have been on teams all their lives. They know how to work together and how to deal with player and position adjustments. Yes, it rubs sometimes, but it usually works itself out.
For whatever reason, this team is the exception.
Thankfully, when I arrive in the locker room, everyone seems to be in good spirits, including the coaching staff.
“Hey, y’all.” My greeting gets a handful of replies, and before he can duck out, I pull my father aside. “Do you mind sticking around this morning? If you’re up for it, I’d like you to join us for this activity. I think it would be good for the team.”
His eyes widen just the tiniest bit, but he nods. “Sure. I’m here for whatever you need.”
“Perfect.” I hand him my cup of pens. “Can you pass these around while I explain today’s activity?”
“Alright, guys. Listen up!” I do a quick scan of the room as the noise level trails off. “It’s Friday, so we’re going to keep it light today.”
There’s a murmur of assent and a few cheers as McGinnis calls out, “Maybe you could convince Coach to do the same!”
My father snorts and hands him a pen. “In your dreams, kid.”
McGinnis shrugs, his trademark smirk fixed in place. “You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.”
“Shit, Ginny. That explains so much,” Graves says, giving the rookie a light shove.
Forey snickers. “Yeah, like the fact that he’d rather get boarded than pass.”
McGinnis gives them a double-fisted middle finger.
“Settle down,” Coach says, shooting them a warning look. “This isn’t the time for your romper-room nonsense. Show a little respect.”
Chastised, the guys fall silent, their heads ducking and shoulders curling in.
It’s not a great way to start a team building exercise. I want to point it out, but I doubt Coach would appreciate the feedback.
His heart is in the right place.
He’s trying to help—just like he thought he was doing the right thing when he grilled Arlo at dinner—but it’s had the opposite effect. The guys are more likely to shut down than open up.
“Why don’t you take a seat, Coach?” I gently take the pen cup from his hands. “Then we can get started.”
His brow furrows, but I pretend not to notice and turn back to the group, doing my best to radiate positive energy.
“I’m going to give each of you a sheet of paper and I want you to write three facts about yourself on it.
They can be anything from your favorite hobby to your favorite book.
” A few of the guys trade devious looks, and I add, “These will be read aloud, so don’t write anything you’d be uncomfortable sharing. ”
I quickly pass out the paper and guys start jotting down their facts.
When I get to Knox, our hands brush and a jolt of electricity shoots up my arm. Warmth floods my body, and oh, god, can everyone tell we had sex last night? I feel like it must be written all over my face.
It’s been hard enough keeping it from McGinnis.
I haven’t spent the night in Knox’s bed since that first time, and he never stays over at my place.
It’s too risky with McGinnis coming and going at all hours of the day and night.
The rookie doesn’t seem to have a routine, despite every serious athlete I’ve ever known—including Knox—having almost ritualistic habits that revolve around sleep, exercise, and fueling the body.
“Are you playing?” Dvorak asks, grinning up at me from the stall next to Knox.
“It’s really an activity for the team,” I say, hedging.
He looks around the room, the picture of innocence. “Ava’s part of the team, right guys?”
“Hell yes,” agrees Hardy. “Coach is playing, you should too.”
“What he said,” Smitty chimes in. “After all, you’re the one who said we need to build trust.”
They’re messing with me. They have to be. They don’t actually expect me to join in…do they?
I catch Knox’s eye and one of his brows wings up in silent challenge.
Fine. I’ll play. It can’t hurt, and if it helps me gain even a modicum of trust, I’ll take it.
I quickly jot down three facts about myself and when I’m done, I explain the next step.
“I’d like each of you to crumple your paper into a snowball.” I demonstrate, balling up my sheet of paper. “When I blow the whistle, you have sixty seconds for a locker room snowball fight.”
That gets their attention. The guys ball up their papers, trash-talking as they do so. I notice some are balled up far tighter than others. It’s just paper, but…should I make them put their helmets on? It would totally be my luck that someone would get a paper cut to the eye.
No, that’s ridiculous.
I shove the thought aside and blow my whistle.
All hell breaks loose.
Paper goes flying and there are whoops and shouts and McGinnis gets pummeled with an onslaught of white paper balls. He throws his arms up to shield his face, dropping his own snowball in the process, as a flurry of paper rains down.
There’s a brief pause—a moment of silence when all the snowballs have been thrown—and then McGinnis dives on the floor, scooping up as many as he can before he starts winging them back at his teammates.
I toss mine into the fray, not aiming for anyone in particular. It bounces off MacKenzie and lands on the floor.