Page 135 of The Coach

Because if some dumbass wide receiver making a baby with a one-night stand is a PR disaster, then what the hell is my situation?

And how long before the world finds out?

I stride into the facility, my mind still back in the penthouse with Ivy, wrapped in the warmth of her sleepy voice telling me she’d find ways to stay busy while I was at the press conference.

And I was good until I step into the film room and see Drew standing there, arms crossed, smirking like an asshole.

“So Reagan’s on the warpath. Wants you to talk to Travis.”

“Oh, really.”

“That’s right.” Drew grins. "Because you’re the boss, Coach. The pinnacle of moral character on this team.”

I shoot him a look. "Don’t start."

Drew raises his hands in surrender, but the smirk stays. "Hey, I’m just saying. You’re the one who has to set a pristine example for everyone.”

I glare at him, but before I can respond, my phone buzzes.

Reagan’s calling.

Perfect.

I answer, putting her on speaker on my office phone, already bracing myself. "Yeah?"

"Where the hell are you?" she snaps.

"Just got here."

"Good. Because Travis is about to be the biggest distraction of the season, and we need you to handle it. Get his head in the game, and for the love of God, keepyourown personal life out of the headlines, Jackson."

My jaw ticks. "It’s not in the headlines."

"Yet. What’s with you asking Gabi about flights to Davenport?”

Jesus.Drew gives me a smug look.

I run a hand through my hair. "I’ll talk to him."

"See that you do," she says, then hangs up.

I exhale hard, then turn back to Drew, who’s watching me like I’m the most entertaining thing he’s ever seen.

"Don’t say it," I warn.

He grins. "Oh, I wasn’t gonna say anything. Davenport, eh? What’s going on out there? That’s…random.”

Shit. Rookie move. Never put anyone on speakerphone when Drew is around. I just didn’t think my own team was supposed to be my enemy. I grab my coffee and head for the door.

“Drew, you’re supposed to be fucking helpful. Not whatever this is.”

“Whatever, dude. Press conference is in five. What kind of coach jiu-jitsu are you going to pull to get out of this one?”

“You just let me handle that. And maybe spend more time watching film next weekend.” I walk down the hall, my grip tightening around my coffee cup.

What kind of ‘Coach jiu-jitsu’ am I going to pull?

Fuck if I know.

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