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Our coach walks in, a grim look on his face. He nods in Declan’s direction, then turns to us. "Gentlemen, now that the day’s practice has been so soundly shorn to pieces, I’m going to have to extend our training sessions by an hour every day for the next month."
"No fucking way." I turn on him.
"Uh, guess I should leave you guys to it," Declan pushes away from the wall, but Coach raises his hand. "This won’t take long, and since we’re not in official training season, you’re welcome to stay."
"If you’re sure." Declan relaxes.
I tip up my chin at Coach. "As you said, we’re not yet in the official training season. So, I don’t have to agree to the extra hour… In fact, I’d say it’s bloody unfair of you to tack on the extra time. But I know I’m in the wrong…" I shuffle my feet. "I won’t apologize for what happened—"
"Of course, not," Coach growls.
"—but I accept the punishment."
"Why do the rest of us have to pay the price with him?" Ray protests.
"One for all, all for one, remember?" Coach’s grin widens.
Ray groans.
"Only silver lining is that I had Abby on hand to talk the journalist down from his high horse.” Coach runs his fingers through his hair. “You’re lucky to have her on your side, else there’s no telling what kind of crap he’d have written about the incident."
I frown. "Abby spoke to the journalist?"
Coach’s grin fades. "She’s outside with him right now."
"Is she now?" I say in a low voice.
Ray and Declan exchange glances.
"Take it easy, man," Declan murmurs.
Coach narrows his gaze. "Am I missing something?"
Only that she went against my explicit instruction not to speak to that journalist. Interesting.
"Assume we’re done here?"
Coach’s frown deepens. "We’re done when I say we’re done."
I hesitate. No one speaks to me like that and gets away with it… Except for Coach Dinesh Droga. He took me under his wing and spent time working with me on my form. He picked me for captain of the team when I was only a few years into the game. He was the first to believe in me, and it’s thanks to him that the sponsorship money began rolling in and I became a billionaire almost overnight. So, when Coach says something, I listen.
"Okay." I nod.
Our medic walks in. "Sorry I’m late. Had to attend to Derek first. He’s fine, but I’ve sent him to the hospital for an X-ray, just to be sure."
The Coach glares at me. "I’m going to have to take disciplinary action against you, you realize?”
But it was so fucking worth it.I tip up my chin.
The medic heads toward me and reaches for my injured hand, but I pull it out of reach. "I’m good."
"Uh, that dressing isn’t the most professional one." He nods toward my hand.
This time I shove it behind my back. "Told you, I’m good. Thanks."
He stares at me, then turns to Coach. "Am I missing something? Is the captain of the English Cricket team going to risk his wound getting infected?"
Coach’s lips quirk, and I suspect he’s hiding a smile. "I’m with our medic in this."
