Page 46 of The Americana Playbook

“I mean, to hurt you.”

He snorts. “Why would you hooking up with that Montgomery girl hurt me? I think you’re the one who might be hurt by it.”

I expect him to make this about football first, because, with Coach, it’salwaysabout football. But he doesn’t continue.

“Why would I be hurt by Parker?” I press.

Coach lifts one shoulder in a shrug, before leaning back against his chair. “Fitz, I’ve been around enough characters in my career to know when some people don’t change.”

Now it’s my turn to raise my eyebrows. “You’re talking about when she was inhigh school?That doesn’t seem all that fair.”

“Who said anything about fair? I’m just saying the truth. That pretty, wild thing”—Coach pauses—“well, girls like that never really change. They act out for attention, make everything dramatic. I mean, I bet you she talked you into announcing your engagement that way, didn’t she?”

Swallowing, I clench my teeth together.

Coach waves me off and laughs. “Here’s the thing, Fitzy. I’m worried about you, because I’m worriedyouhaven’t changed all that much even though I thought you have.”

“What? How?”

“You’re weak,” he answers immediately.

“Weak?” I repeat. “I can’t be all that weak winning a Super Bowl. And this thing with Parker has been going on long before that.”

That’s the story we’ve decided to go with—our relationship is a little more than a year old.

Coach’s eyes slide to the side. “Youbarelywon it.”

That comment feels like a punch to the gut, but I don’t want him to see me sweat it. “And that was somehowParker’sfault?”

I wish I could spit out the truth to make Coach’s point null and void.

“I guess we have to see how you show up in the off-season. I’m sure after that stunt you two pulled at the White House, you’ll be awfully busy.”

“Actually,” I begin. “I’m not involved with the campaign.”

“Oh?”

I nod. “Not my circus, not my monkeys. I’m here to play football. And if you think I’ve got my head wrapped up in anything other than that, you don’t know me at all.”

The words flee from my mouth with a ring of truth. That’s because my head isn’t wrapped up in Parker. My heart is.

The phone vibrates again. Coach stares, challenging me. I reach for my iced tea instead.

“I actually should get going,” I say. “We’ve got that gala tonight.”

A rip-roaring laugh pummels out of Coach’s chest. “When have youevergone to a gala?”

He’s right. I never went to anything like this when I was out in LA playing for the Bulls. But what Coach doesn’t know is that Nick originally axed my idea of just donating and insisted I buy a table and show myself in good light.

“First time for everything.” I put down my glass.

Coach hums. “Well, while you’re busy in your tux, I’ll head to the facility and get a look at some film before draft day. Need a high pick cornerback.”

I scoff. “Come on. You can’t be serious about not picking Todd back up.”

Coach doesn’t say anything.

“He’s a top player in the League. You can’t just replace him because you guys butt heads.”

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