Page 49 of Forever Offsides

That said, she didn’t like it when I ended things with her. She hated it when I didn’t give her secrets in the form of pillow talk. Honestly, she was boring, and after what I’d already been through with Russel’s mother, I’d had enough of opportunistic women trying to use me.

Except her question is kindling a forest fire, and every reporter in this room starts shouting questions about Russel at me. I hope he’s happy because his showing up here unannounced was quite the move. One that can’t be glossed over now.

Dallas will react.

The Rebels will too, and they don’t have to make a deal.

Russel took a hell of a chance, and I don’t understand his motives behind it.

He was supposed to meet me at my new place tonight. So what the fuck was he doing here this afternoon? In public, no less. Did he know he’d be seen? Or did he not care? He said he was here for Quinn. That he went to her hospital to see her, and they told him she was here.

He’s also been calling her.

“Coach?!”

The hits keep coming, and I let them, answering what I want and ignoring the others with artful brush-offs. By the time I’m done, it’s late into the afternoon. I’m sweaty, exhausted, and frustrated.

Asher sent me a message for a chat tomorrow morning. My players almost got into a brawl. The girl I’m more than a little into was at the center of it. It hasn’t even been a week, and already my job and career are on the line.

I grunt out a curse as I climb into the shower. Hot water cascades over me, and my head bows while my outstretched hands plant into the tiled wall. I have to decide what I’m going to do about Crew and Mason, and my instinct is nothing. If it were my sister, I’d have done the same. Asher said it was my call as the coach, but I’m not out to make an example of them for that.

As much as it makes me feel like an ass to say, Russel had it coming.

But it’s not Mason or Crew or even Russel who are occupying my thoughts at the moment. As per usual, it’s Quinn.

I’m positive she heard I’m Russel’s father by this point. It’s all over the internet, blasted across every news outlet and public forum. I’m also sure she hates me for it, along with everything else. I couldn’t help the note of pride when she nailed him in the balls. Again, he had it coming.

But she also stopped her brothers from going after him. Was that for Russel or for them? Does she miss him? And how do I make myself not care? How do I make it so that I’m not jealous of my fucking son?

He wants her back. I know he does. There’s no other reason he’d seek her out the way he did. No other reason—other than wanting a championship ring—that he’d make this kind of play to return to the Rebels. He’s not here for bonding time with me as much as I wish he were.

Then there’s what he said. How he fucked up with her. How Quinn isn’t the type of woman who men get second chances with. Not that I’d ever have the option. What we had is over. Even if every time I think that my stomach twists painfully.

A bang, bang, bang startles me out of my thoughts. Shit. Who the hell is pounding on my office door like that? Russel went to his hotel, so I know it’s not him. Is it Asher or the owner, Randolph here to fire me?

More banging.

“Just a second!” I shut off the water and climb out of the shower, hastily throwing a towel around my waist. If they’re going to fire me, I’d much prefer them to do it when I’m dressed, but it seems I don’t have that option.

I open the bathroom door and step out to find Quinn standing in the middle of my office, looking beautiful and furious. Air seizes in my chest.

Too young for you. Your son’s ex-girlfriend, whom he may still want. Your boss’s daughter. Your players’ sister. Forever offsides to you! She’s the ultimate penalty I’d take all the punishments for. Except that’s not an option.

Yet somehow I still take a step in her direction as if magnetized. Her eyes rake over my wet, naked chest. My cock stiffens beneath my towel, and there isn’t dick all—pun intended—I can do to stop or hide it.

“I have so many things to yell at you about, I hardly know where to begin.”

“That’s fair.” I clear my throat.

“He’s your son?”

I swallow thickly. “Yes.”

Her green eyes burn at me, and I can tell she’s hurt, which I hate. I don’t like hurting her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I sigh and brush back my wet hair from my forehead. “Do you want the truth or a bullshit excuse that’ll be easier for you to hear?”

She gives me an impatient look.