Page 60 of The Coach

I fake a casual laugh. “Oh, you know. Just confirming details for myexclusivebehind-the-scenes coaching interview.”

Drew squints at me. “Exclusive, huh?”

“Super exclusive,” I say, nodding way too fast.

Jackson doesn’t even blink. “She’s got a big following.”

Drew raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? Where?”

Shit.

I fumble for an answer. “Uh—sports. Football. Coaching. Leadership.”

Drew just stares.

Jackson, still watching me like he knows something’s up, grabs a pen from his desk and slides it toward me. “You were giving me your number again, right?”

I freeze.

For a moment, I just stare at the pen, my heartbeat slamming in my ears.

Then, I nod quickly, forcing a tight smile. “Right! Of course. My number.”

I take the pen, my hands shaking.

But instead of writing just my number, I scrawl out four words in clear, bold, life-altering letters:

I'M CARRYING YOUR BABY.

My pulse pounds as I add my number beneath it—again—fold the paper in half, and slide it toward him.

Jackson takes it, gripping it tight.

For a second, he doesn’t move.

Doesn’t breathe.

Then, he flips it open.

His entire body locks up.

His grip on the paper tightens. His jaw clenches so hard I hear it. His breath comes in sharp, uneven bursts.

Drew leans in. “What’s it say?”

Jackson snaps the paper shut in his fist, his knuckles turning white. “Nothing.”

Drew narrows his eyes. “It sure as hell looked like something, judging from the reaction you just had.”

Jackson doesn’t answer. He doesn’t blink.

He just stares at me.

And I swear, I can feel the weight of his stare in my bones.

Like he’s trying to read my mind.

Like he’s trying to figure out if this is a joke.

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