Page 136 of The Coach

I push open the door to the locker room, where Travis Carter is slumped on a bench, staring at his phone like it personally betrayed him. He looks up when I step in, his jaw tightening.

"Coach," he mutters.

I shut the door behind me. "Alright, kid. You wanna tell me what the fuck is going on?"

He exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. "It’s bullshit, man. I don’t even know if the kid’s mine. She just went to the press first. Didn’t even come to me."

I cross my arms. "And yet, you’re sitting here acting like a deer in headlights instead of getting ahead of this. Why haven’t you put out a statement?"

His shoulders tense. "Because I don’t know what to say. I don’t wanna be out there saying ‘I didn’t do it’ just to look like an asshole if it turns out I did. Yes, we had a…a thing. It was months ago! When I thought I was going to be playing for Miami! I mean, Coach, I used a condom and everything. I was responsible.”

“Birth control is never 100%, buddy.”Don’t I know it?

“Well yeah. I know thatnow. But still…how do Iknowwhat to say?”

I study him for a second. "So what do you want to do?"

He hesitates. "I don’t know."

I exhale, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Look, I don’t give a shit about the media circus. What I care about is your head being in the fucking game. You’re a distraction right now, and we’ve got a tough matchup this week. If you can’t focus, I need to know."

He stiffens. "I’m focused."

"Then act like it." My voice sharpens. "Step up. Handle your shit like a man. Get the test done. Put out a statement saying you’ll take responsibility if it’s yours. And for the love of God, stop looking at your phone like it’s gonna solve this for you. Maybe stay off social media for a while.”

Travis exhales, looking away. "Yeah. Alright. That’s actually a good idea.”

"Good." I clap a hand on his shoulder. "Now get your ass ready for practice."

I turn to leave, but before I step out, he speaks up.

"Coach?"

I glance back.

His brow furrows. "You ever been in this kind of mess?"

A strange, knowing feeling settles in my chest.

I don’t hesitate. “This isn’t about me, buddy. I’m the coach.”

Then I walk out, already bracing myself for whatever PR hell awaits in the press room.

The press room is already buzzing when I step inside. Cameras flashing, reporters talking, everyone smelling blood in the water.

Drew slides up beside me, his smirk barely contained. “Ready to tap dance?”

“Fuck off.” I grab the mic, adjusting it as I settle into my seat. “Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

Kara—the same reporter who was prying into my personal life last time—leans forward, ready to pounce. “Coach Knox, what’s your response to the breaking news about Travis Carter?”

I keep my face unreadable. “Travis is handling the situation privately. We’re focused on football.”

“Come on, Coach,” another reporter presses. “This isn’t just a minor distraction. This is a paternity scandal, and it’s taking over sports media. Are you worried about how it’ll affect the team?”

I level him with a look. “You think one player’s personal life is going to derail this team? We’re professionals. We do our jobs. Buddy, how would you feel if every situation inyourearly twenties was put through a microscope. Ey?”

That makes him shut up, but Kara doesn’t let up. “What about team culture? Travis is young, impressionable. Are you concerned about the example being set for the future rookies on the Stallions?”

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