Page 80 of Her Coach

It made me think.

It made me think about what she said about my drinking. It made me think about what she said about my scandal, and the shit the news dredged up about me just to get some fucking primetime views. During that time in my life where those fucking news cameras were shoved so far up my ass that they could’ve tested my gut health, the PHL did everything to try and get me to understand that I fucked up. That I wasn’t actually part of the team, and that I couldn’t risk fucking up like this because I was more than the team. Above them. Beyond them. And because of that, I wasn’t allowed the same graces the team would have gotten in moments like that.

But maybe, Brynn was right.

Maybe I was more part of this team than I’d been made to believe.

“I’m telling you, that’s what he did!” Jett exclaimed before he took a mouthful of noodles and slurped them up. “He marched right in there, ripped his coat off his damn shoulders, wrapped that shit around the man’s neck, and practically threw him across the locker room without so much as a word!”

Brynn’s eyes bulged as she looked over a Moose. “You did not.”

Moose shrugged. “Don’t talk about my mama.”

Rhett barked with laughter. “I’ll say. You’ll get your neck broken if you talk about his mama.”

“I didn’t break his neck, okay?” Moose asked.

“Nope,” Frank said with a beaming smile on his face, “just gave him a concussion.”

Even I gave a chuckle just as Moose shrugged. “Like I said, don’t talk about my mama, and we won’t have problems.”

“I hear that,” Brynn said as he reached her balled up fist out for a fist bump.

The plan had always been four years, prove the point, move on. That was still the plan.

Wasn’t it.

It reminded me of just how precarious my situation with Brynn was. She was the owner’s daughter. The press would eat me alive for this, especially after the scandal before. And yet, it felt so fucking good. She felt so fucking good. Brynn. The curvy, delectable goddess that had dropped out of thin air and onto a silver platter, just for me. I didn’t care that she originally attempted to hook me up with her mother. I didn’t care that she fought her own demons on whether or not this was something we needed to be pursuing. Being with her was better than my marriage. Better than my divorce. Better than the bitterness. Better than that useless fuck that blew up everything I’d spent two decades building. Better than all of the top-shelf bourbon the desert heat of this city had to offer.

But until I went back to my life, I’d spend every second she allowed making sure she understood that. And maybe, just maybe, if I played my cards right, I’d convince her to come with me.

The plan made less sense the longer I sat here watching her laugh.

32

BRYNN

I heard my cell phone buzzing and I dashed through the house. “I’m coming, Dani! Give me a second!”

Even though I knew my best friend was states away and couldn’t hear me, every time she rang my phone on Friday afternoons at four, it felt like she just walked into the house. I rushed around, grabbing my favorite blanket from the back of the couch as I steadied my Dr. Pepper in my hand.

I flounced to my bedroom, picking up the phone call from my bestie, and put her on speakerphone.

“Tell me you didn’t spill your Dr. Pepper this time,” Dani’s voice said, echoing across my room.

I placed my glass down and leapt into bed. “Didn’t spill a drop this time.”

“Oh, good, good. Because I got us in the spill department today.”

I barked as I reached for my drink. “Oh, nooooo! What happened?!”

“I swear to hell on high, that damned coffee shop up the road needs hand grippers for their to-go cups. What do they do, put fucking Vaseline on them sons of bitches or something?”

I cackled as I reached for my drink. “What did you get?”

“A fucking dirty iced chai.”

“Missing Christmas already?”