Chapter Seven
False Start
Why did my father call my ex-girlfriend?
I kicked Chandra out of my apartment ten minutes after I found her there.
Maybe I'm a sap, but I couldn't make myself chuck her out the door immediately.
I absolutely did not ever intend to have sex with her, though that was clearly her aim.
Yeah, Chandra's hot. Smokin' hot. But she had no idea I'd fucked Regan in my car earlier.
So yeah, I feel like a sleaze though I haven't done anything wrong.
Sure, then why do I feel like such an asshole today?
Before I step out the door, I make a quick call to my dad. "What did you tell Chandra?"
"Nothing much. She wanted the poop on your new steady, that's all."
"Did you give her any information about Regan?"
He clucks his tongue. "What kind of dad would rat on his son?"
Not Frank Hannigan, that's for sure. "Gotta go, Dad. Love to Mom."
I drive to practice with a weird knot in my stomach, like I swallowed a football and it's lodged somewhere between my ribs.
The Bigfoots' training facility looms ahead, its massive structure a reminder that I should stay focused on my career, not relationship drama.
But my brain keeps showing me replays of Regan, her incredible skating skills and how amazing it felt to be inside her.
I grab my gear bag from the passenger seat and head into the gym.
Inside, I hear the familiar sounds of weight machines and shouted instructions.
That should be comforting, but today, everything feels off.
Like I'm walking through my normal life but slightly out of sync with it.
I spot Regan across the gym, and she waves to me while smiling in the cutest way.
Her golden-brown hair is secured in a tight bun.
She's wearing tight leggings and a pink hoodie, presumably with a sports bra or T-shirt underneath.
I gawk at her without meaning to do it. Even when I'm feeling like crap, Regan Banks makes my heart rate spike as if I'm running wind sprints.
She jogs up to me, and I swear she's got some kind of radar for my presence. Our eyes lock across the gym, and for a second, a smile begins to form on her face. But then she freezes. Something in my expression must give me away because her eyebrows pull together in a little crease.
Great. I'm a problem now.
"Morning," I say, trying to sound normal and friendly, but I doubt my strategy is working. "Did you come here to see me?"
"Duh, Hannigan."
Regan could've texted me last night. That's what normal people do after hooking up with someone they sorta-kinda care about.
Jeez, it was a quickie in my car. I shouldn't feel obligated to talk to her, though do feel like a sleaze for not calling her in the morning.
Why? Shit, she's the one who kicked me to the curb.
I fold my arms over my chest. "What do you want, Banks?"
"To talk. Without spectators."
"Uh-huh. I'm on the job, you know."
She moves a little closer and whispers, "Please, Mike. Can we have a real conversation? Soon?"
Christ. Her blue eyes mesmerize me, and the way she bites her lip is completely adorable. "Okay, meet me at my place at eight. I'll text you the address."
Regan's cheeks dimple, and she sashays out of the gym.
I head to the locker room, change quickly, and try to focus on the workout plan my trainer left for me.
"Earth to Hannigan."
That voice snaps me out of my Regan-induced trance. It's Devin Carstairs, one of my teammates, grinning at me. "Are you planning to lift those weights or just stare at them all day? Or maybe you psychically lifted them---invisibly."
I grab the dumbbells and start my reps. "Shut up, dumbass."
"You look like crap, by the way." Devin grins and winks, dropping onto the bench next to me. "Rough night, huh?"
"How about you focus on your own workout?" I push through my first set, muscles burning as I try to focus on the physical sensation instead of the emotional clusterfuck I've created.
"Let me guess---Chandra drama?"
I snap my head up. "How'd you know?"
Devin rolls his eyes. "Dude, she tagged you in like fifteen throwback photos last night. 'Missing my favorite quarterback' and shit like that."
"You've gotta be kidding me." I set the weights down with more force than necessary. "That woman is psychotic."
"So, what happened? You two back together or what?"
"No way." I snarled those two words, though I didn't mean to. "Stop yammering about Chandra. She showed up at my apartment unannounced."
And virtually buck naked. But I won't tell Devin about that.
The asshat himself whistles low and long. "Chandra's like a heat-seeking missile when she wants something. And she still wants you." He jerks his chin toward the other side of the gym. "But it looks like you might have other interests now."
"Get your head out of the gutter, Carstairs." My brain forces me to watch a replay of Regan a few minutes ago. "But yeah, I'm into the skater. Happy now?"
He grabs his water bottle. "That's why you're staring at her like she's the last bottle of Gatorade on earth."
I grab a heavier set of dumbbells, hoping the strain will distract me. "Don't you have somewhere else to be annoying?"
"Nope. Coach scheduled me with you today. Lucky dog."
I like Devin, though he can be annoying. But he's one of the few guys on the team who doesn't kiss my ass because I'm the starting quarterback.
He leans in closer and whisper, "What's the deal with you and that Regan chick? Is she your girl? If not, I'd love to tap some of that action."
I nearly drop the dumbbell on my foot. "Jesus, Devin. Can't you think of anything other than sex?"
Devin smirks. "That means yes, she is your girl."
"She's a friend."
"Uh-uh. And I'm the Pope."
I finish my set and grab my towel, wiping sweat from my face. "I don't kiss and tell."
"Well, if you won't dive into those creamy waters, maybe I will."
Dirty language never bothers me. But ever since I met Regan, I get kind of...possessive about her. She essentially me tossed out in the trash bin, but I still can't get her out of my head. That's unbelievably pathetic.
Once I've finished my workout, I avail myself of the sauna for a few minutes.
Then I head out. My body and mind agree for once, telling me I should find Regan and do.
..something. Apologize? No, the problem isn't me.
The figure skater who screwed me in my car is the one who keeps popping up in my thoughts.
Then my phone screen lights up with Ernie's name. I swipe to read it. Need to talk. My office. Now.
Oh, great. A lecture from my coach about something I probably screwed up is exactly what I needed.
Pocketing my phone, I head toward the administrative wing.
Ernie's office door is half open when I arrive.
I knock anyway, because my mama raised me right, even if I am a complete disaster when it comes to women.
"Hey, Mike, come on in. Have a seat." Ernie gestures to the chair across from his desk without looking up from the papers he's reviewing.
I drop into the chair, trying to keep my leg from bouncing. Nothing gives away anxiety like a twitchy leg. "What's up, Coach?"
When Ernie finally looks at me, his expression isn't what I expected. There's no disappointment or frustration, only concern. That's almost worse.
"How are you feeling about your performance lately?" He leans back, folding his hands over his stomach.
Yeah, he loves a good trick question. "I'm working hard. Putting in the hours."
"That's not what I asked." Ernie's voice is gentle but firm. "Your completion percentage is down. Your decision-making in the pocket has been erratic, and you're hesitating on throws you used to make in your sleep."
I wince, knowing he's right. "Yeah, I've been a little off my game."
"A little?" Ernie raises an eyebrow. "Mike, you're one of the most talented quarterbacks I've ever coached, but talent only gets you so far. Something's distracting you, and it's affecting your performance. Is it that figure skater?"
I consider lying, brushing it off as fatigue or a minor injury I've been hiding. But this is Ernie. Lying to him feels wrong. "I've got some personal stuff going on. Nothing I can't handle. It's just...complicated."
"Would this 'complicated' situation have anything to do with Chandra Sherazi's Instagram activity last night? Or maybe pretty figure skater who's been training here recently?"
How did Ernie know? He must be psychic. But I won't lie to him. "Yeah, the problem is Chandra---and Regan."