Page 65 of Forever Offsides

He has, and I’ve seen plenty of posts and things on Instagram that he’s already hit the ground running here in Boston with dating every female who is even slightly considered famous or a socialite. It hasn’t been so good for his image. The press is already calling him the bad boy of Boston.

“And?”

“And how about we try being friends?”

I squint at him. “Just friends?”

“Just friends,” he promises. “But you used to hug me before my games. Even when you couldn’t come to one, you’d give me a hug before I left for it—and a kiss too, but I won’t press it—and you’d tell me good luck. As my new friend, can I have a hug? What do you say?”

“That I didn’t agree to be your friend.”

He huffs. “Come on, Quinn. It’s my first game here. I’m nervous.”

He is. I can see it in his eyes. “Fine. Friends, and this is only a friendly hug and nothing more.”

A smile lights up his face. “Understood.”

He rewraps his arms around me and pulls me in so he can tuck me against his chest. It’s like déjà vu, and he must feel it too because he emits a mournful sigh and drops his face to my neck.

“I’ve missed this.” I start to push away when he holds me tighter. “I’m not saying that to cross lines. I’m saying it because it’s a simple truth.” His hand cups my jaw, and he stares intently into my eyes just as the crowd roars with the kickoff. “I should never have let you go.”

He leans in and kisses my cheek, then jogs off before I can say anything back. I bluster out a breath and twist to find Rhett standing there as if he’d been watching the entire time. His expression is stoic, but there’s something else teetering on the edge of his thoughts that his eyes can’t hide.

Nothing is happening between us, and I don’t owe him any explanations. But I want to give him one. I want him to know that I don’t have feelings for his son, but I do for him, and it sucks. It just sucks.

The kickoff is over, and I’m jostled by defensive players taking the field. It breaks whatever this moment is. Rhett returns his focus to the field, and I move to the back where the training and medical staff camp out.

My phone vibrates against my ass, where I have it tucked into the back of my pants. We’re not supposed to use our phones unless necessary, and the players aren’t allowed them at all, but I pull mine out and tuck my body away from the field.

Skylar: Are you trying to send me into early labor? What are you doing, hugging and kissing your piece of shit ex on the field?! I shouldn’t have to see that.

Shit. My gaze shoots up to the skybox everyone is in, but there’s no way they could have seen that. Could they?

Me: How could you have seen that?

Braelyn: It was on the TV. The broadcasters were talking about how Rhett Jones is the new coach, taking over for your father, and how the tradition of coaches having their sons play for them continues. They freaking panned to Russel, but you were in his arms! Everyone is going nuts up here in the booth. It’s a full Fritz picnic, and everyone is asking what’s going on.

Forest: Quinn, it’s already being posted around. *Attached picture with caption that says, ‘Ex-lovers reunite, are they or aren’t they?’

Double shit. An all-too-familiar unease prickles my skin with the thought that there are pictures and videos out there circulating gossip about me.

Me: We’re not!

Me: He asked if we could be friends and for a pre-game hug because he was nervous. It’s not how it looked. I swear.

Hayes: Better not be. That piece of shit doesn’t deserve you.

Me: Nothing is happening there. I swear. Tell everyone there it was a simple hug and nothing more.

Forest: Do you want me to do anything?

Forest is a cleaner of sorts. He’s an attorney but works differently than one you’d typically think of. He manages messes I don’t want to know about. Publicly, he runs the Abbott Foundation that his grandmother’s family started, but that’s far from his main gig.

Me: If it gets out of hand beyond this one picture I will.

Skylar: Girl, all I’m saying is that didn’t look friendly to the cameras, and after the fight earlier this summer and the press already knowing about your previous relationship, I just hope this doesn’t turn into a thing.

I sigh and tuck my phone back into my pocket. Just great. I don’t think he did it on purpose. There’s no way he could have known they were recording us. Right?