Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
I blinked.
Baker tensed.
“But it appears my day is drama and bullshit-free with the exception of you two.” Coach leveled us both with a glare. “Look, I could give a shit about your love lives. I just need to know if you can keep it professional on the field…and in my damned weight room.” He crossed one ankle over his knee, cool as a cucumber.
Because he didn’t know the real reason Teagan had fled to my house that night. Coach Goodman was a solid guy. He was ridiculously protective over his daughter, Savannah, too. There was no way he’d look the other way if he knew what Baker had done, right?
But it wasn’t like Teagan had allowed me to take pictures of those bruises, which meant it would be Rick’s word against mine…especially if Teagan wasn’t willing to come forward.
“No problem, Coach. I’m sorry I let my temper get the best of me. I just really love her, you know?” Baker’s face fell.
I blatantly shook my head at his whole forsaken-lover routine before catching the arched eyebrow Coach threw my way. “I’ll be fine.”
Coach glanced between us for a few seconds, as if weighing our responses before nodding. “Good. Now get the hell out of my office. I don’t want to see that shit in there again.” He pointed toward the weight room.
“Yes, sir,” we both answered in tandem as we rose from our chairs.
“You are a piece of work,” I said under my breath as Baker and I walked out into the hallway. Both Nixon and Hendrix stood against the wall, hydrating and doing a piss-poor job at pretending nonchalance.
“I’m not fucking kidding, Padilla,” he hissed as the door shut behind us. “I don’t lose what’s mine.”
“I’ll be certain to let her know that you asked after her well-being.” I gave him a mock salute and headed toward my friends.
Nixon’s eyes followed Baker until he cleared the doors back to the weight room. “Everything okay?”
“Fine.” I took the drink Hendrix offered and chugged half of it to wash the tension out of my throat.
“Looks really fine to me,” Hendrix rolled his eyes.
“You going to be able to deal with his shit all season long?” Nixon asked in that serious tone of his.
I took a deep breath and stared at the weight room door, imagining closing Rick’s head in it a few dozen times. “I don’t really have a choice.”
“If you want to throw him in front of the bus before we leave for the first away game, I’m here for that.” Hendrix shrugged. Guy didn’t even know the full history behind why T was living with me, but he still had my back. He was like that.
“I’ll help,” Nixon added, straight-faced.
A smile cracked across my features. “I might just take you up on that.”
We headed back into the weight room to finish our work out. Sure, I had about five million reasons a year not to start shit with Rick, but the money didn’t matter when it came to Teagan. I’d toss my NFL career in a heartbeat if it kept her safe.
I settled in on another machine and blatantly ignored the glare Rick shot my way. Until Teagan was ready to deal with what he’d done to her, the least I could do was ignore his shitty disposition…if she was ever ready.
* * *
“I’m just saying that I could get used to seeing you around here,” Mom said with a sly smile, twisting her glass of wine between her fingers as the four of us sat at my dining room table.
I groaned and wished for the thousandth time that our dads had come to dinner instead of our moms. But no, the two of them were off at a classic car convention on a boys’ weekend, leaving me to fend for myself.
“Oh, well—” Teagan started, blushing deep pink.
“Here, here,” T’s mom agreed, lifting her wine glass and grinning back at my mom. The two women couldn’t be any more different in looks—just like T and me, but they’d been close friends just as long as Teagan and me, too.
Teagan shot me a pleading look across the table, but I just shrugged and leaned back in my chair. Trying to detour our mothers from a topic of conversation was about as easy as rerouting a hurricane. It didn’t happen.
“Not that I didn’t like Rick, honey,” Mrs. Hall said with a faltering smile. “He just always seemed so…”
Abusive? Manipulative?
“Well, he liked to hover,” she finished quickly, setting her glass down on the table.
“He did,” Teagan agreed, tucking her hair behind her ears and shifting in her seat.
As awkward as this conversation was, damn did she look edible tonight. She had on her new, form-fitting jeans that hugged her ass like the work of art it was, and a blue, v-neck blouse that not only dipped to the curve of her breasts but made those eyes of hers stand out even brighter.