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“You think I’m one of his best players?” I don’t know why I latch onto those words. I guess maybe after all this time I needed affirmation that I am a good player. After a while you begin to doubt yourself.
“You don’t need me to tell you that you’re a damn good player.” Coach picks up a pen and taps it against his desk. “Now, stop pussyfooting around and tell me what the hell is going on,” he demands. He narrows his eyes on me and gives me the look that he used to give me when I went to school here—the one that says he’ll keep me in this room until I spill the beans.
I told Grace—well, she figured it out—so I don’t see the point in not telling Coach Harrison. Keeping it a secret isn’t doing me any fucking good. Matthews is still coming after me.
“I caught Matthews giving Greg Paulson steroids. The fucking team captain.”
Coach says one word. “No.” He doesn’t say it like he doesn’t believe me but like he doesn’t want to believe it’s true.
I nod once. “He threatened to ruin my career if I told anyone and I know he could. I got injured just after it happened which I’m sure thrilled him. Even though I haven’t told a soul, except you now.” I leave Grace out of it, because even though I trust Coach, I don’t want there to be any chance of her getting dragged into this. “He’s doing everything he can to keep me off the team until my contract runs out at the end of the season and here’s the thing: if I don’t get to play soon, no other team will want to draft me.”
Coach nods, rubbing his hand over his jaw. “We’ll just go public with this then.”
“No,” I say quickly. Coach looks at me quizzically waiting for me to elaborate. “Do you really think anyone will believe me?” I ask. “You know what kind of reputation I have, and God knows what kind of lies Matthews is feeding the higher ups. I need proof. Right now, it’s my word against his.”
“Then we have to get you back with your team.” Coach nods at his words. “That’s the only way we can get proof. Unless you think the player you saw will talk?” He raises a brow and waits for me to answer.
“Why would he? If he admits to doing steroids, then he’s in a fuck ton of trouble.”
Coach makes a noise of agreement. “You’re right.” He rubs his fingers over his lips, a sign that he’s deep in thought. “Let me think on this. I’ll … I’ll come up with a plan.”
I nod and leave him. I didn’t want to get Coach Harrison involved in this but he’s one of the smartest men I know. If he can’t help me then no one can.
“My parents want you to come visit for Christmas and New Year’s.”
I choke on the pasta I was swallowing. “What?” I ask when I can breathe again.
Grace sighs. “My parents want to meet you over Christmas break. They asked me to invite you to Thanksgiving but I got you out of that. They won’t let it go, though.”
I wipe my mouth with a napkin and look around the restaurant. Someone snaps a photo of us on their phone and whispers to the people they’re with.
My gaze slides back to Grace and I can tell how nervous she is. She hates asking me to do this.
“All right, I’ll go.”
“Really?” She swirls spaghetti around her fork. “I mean, if you can come up with a good enough excuse for them I’m sure they’ll let it go.”
“Nah.” I shrug. “It won’t be so bad.”
Grace chuckles like she thinks it’s cute that I believe that. “Just remember that they think we’re really a couple so prepare for an intense inquisition.”
“I’ll live,” I tell her.
She takes a bite of her spaghetti, chews, and swallows before speaking again. “There’s also this huge party my family throws every year on New Year’s Eve in the mansion my dad grew up in. You’ll need to bring a tux.”
“I can do that.”
She breathes out a sigh of relief. “I really thought you were going to run screaming from the restaurant when I told you.”
“It’s your parents, Grace, not Kim Jong-un.”
She giggles. “I’m semi-impressed that you know who the president of North Korea is.”
“Oh, is that who that is?” I joke.
“Funny.” She shakes her head. “I’m going to head home after my finals next Thursday and you can come whenever.”
“Why don’t I go then?” I ask her. “I can drive you home.”
