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“So, is Benham out?”
“He’s driving into Vegas as we speak for the mid-American clinic and showcase.”
I hear something clunk, almost like Freddy threw his phone at something hard. It’s followed by a string of curse words and then a rustling sound.
“Sorry about that. What a bummer.”
I snort and squeeze the back of my neck.
“God knows what he’s got up his sleeve.”
“He didn’t know you were flying to Vegas this week.”
“I know,” I say, letting out a heavy sigh. “Just a shitty coincidence. Better to know now though.”
“Yeah. Should I send a follow-up email to Benham anyway?”
“Yeah,” I say, signaling for the highway exit, hitting a small tumbleweed as I take the ramp. I don’t even flinch. Instead I relish the feel of the tires crushing the dried branches.
“Get a drink. Snuggle your baby mama.”
“Stop calling her that,” I say, a little too sharply.
He’s quiet for a long minute. “You two gonna be okay?” he asks.
“Have we transitioned into the personal portion of the conversation?”
“I’m just asking. Not sure if anyone else has.”
“Don’t worry. Deanna’s on my case too.” I turn left toward the treatment center where I dropped off Megan just a little over an hour ago. That’s all the longer the Benhams had for me. What a fucking joke.
I realize Freddy hasn’t said anything.
“Sorry, man. It’s just… it’s been a lot today.”
“I get it. Just…” He stalls as if debating what to say next.
“I’ll let you know if I need to talk?” I say, not because I think I’ll need his shoulder to cry on, but because I think he needs me to say it.
“‘Course, brah.”
“Stop calling me ‘brah.’”
“Right, Coach.”
We disconnect as I pull up to the center, and as soon as I put the car in park, I check my notifications. Honestly, it’s the last thing I want to do. I want to find my girl.
The thought stuns me. I squeeze the back of my neck as I realize I want her to bemine. But she’s not. Because we’re taking it so fucking slow. My dick was so hard this morning in bed with her I thought I’d pass out from the ache. And then, I know she was asleep, but she kept readjusting to get comfortable and it was almost like she was thrusting her soft, round ass at me. I need to be able to put my hands on her. But I need to follow her lead, and it’s driving me crazy. But also, I realize I need more than just touching her, tasting her, being inside her. I don’t know how to put words to it, but I needmore.I need to make hermine.
My phone buzzes with an email notification. It’s from the University Compliance Officer. Something about increased scrutiny on university-issued technology. I’ll have to tease the guys about watching their browser tabs. Then I check my text notifications. A few are from Freddy, and a couple from my other coaches, but a different one catches my eye. I open the one from Hirschfeld.
SAM HIRSCHFELD:See, now if you’d told me you were driving all the way out to the desert for one kid, I could’ve saved you time.
SAM HIRSCHFELD:Let me know if you want to stop by. Suite at the MGM is open tonight. Fully funded by the booster bank if you catch my drift.
“Cocksucker,” I grumble as I delete the entire text thread. Then I look up, and I see her.
Megan is sitting on the edge of a concrete planter outside the rehab center, in full sun. She’s holding herself around the middle, rocking.
