Page 157 of Let You Love Me

The realization is a bucket of cold water to the face.

Ice chinks in my veins, a glacier in my chest.

“What the actual fuck?” My mouth hangs open as Chance’s head whips in my direction. Surprise flickers in his eyes as he straightens. The hand holding the playbook lowers.

I can see the panic in his stony gaze moments before he holds the playbook out, waving it in front of me like evidence. “It was you!” he exclaims.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I scoff, motioning to my locker. “I just fucking watched you open my locker and remove it from your bag, ready to stash it there.”

“No.” He shakes his head and turns fully toward me, squaring his shoulders. “I had a feeling you were the rat, so I figured I’d check it out. Sure enough, I was right.”

“Like hell you did.” My hands fist as I step forward, muscles coiled, ready for a fight.

The fucking audacity of this guy is mind boggling.

“If you saw anything different,” he says with a smirk, “you need to get your fucking eyes checked.”

I take another step closer, my mouth a tight line as I try and determine his angle. To get me off the team? To fuck with me because of Lane?

It’s hard to be one step ahead of your enemies when you don’t know they’re fucking motives.

Fury blazes through my veins. “What’s your endgame, Lockhart? What are you trying to pull?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He scoffs.

“Ever since you saw me with Lane that first night, I’ve had a target on my back. The liquor bottle in my locker. Then showing up at her place and bad-mouthing me. The impromptu mandatory Sunday meetings when you knew damn well we were together. Your threats when I saw you the other day with Sophie, and now this?”

He huffs out a laugh. “You’re fucking paranoid, Nichols.”

My gaze sharpens on his face. “Am I?”

I’d love nothing more than to punch his fucking lights out, imprint my knuckles on his face, but something tells me that’s what he wants. One more reason for Coach to kick me off his team.

Another step closer, and Chance slaps the playbook into my chest, leaning in so I can smell the cloying scent of his cologne. “Good luck explaining to Coach why you have the playbook,” he says. Then he removes his hand as he backs up, and the playbook nearly falls to the ground before I fumble for it, catching it before it has the chance. And by the time I lift my gaze, he’s gone.

Chapter 42

TEAGAN

Ispend the restof the day with an anvil in my chest.

After spending a disgusting amount of time debating on what to do with the playbook, I took it with me.

When it comes down to it, my integrity is what matters to me the most. Even if I left in the locker room for someone to find, Chance will pin it on me. Clearly, it’s what he wants, and nothing is going to stop him. Instead, I’m better off taking it to Coach myself, explaining to him what happened, and hoping like hell he’ll believe me.

By morning, nerves coil in my stomach like a bed of snakes.

After tossing and turning all night, I’m exhausted and feeling pretty shitty about how my showdown against Chance will go. Having the truth on my side is all I’ve got while he and Turner have history.

I sling my gym bag over my shoulder and tell Tommy I’m heading to the field early to take care of something, then set off across campus. It’s a cool morning, cloudy with a chance of rain,which suits me just fine considering the ominous gray clouds match my mood.

When I finally reach Coach’s office, I want to puke. Any confidence I had before is long gone, replaced with the certainty that he’ll take one look at the book in my hands, condemn first and ask questions later.

If I’m lucky, he’ll give me a chance to explain, but in the end, he still might not believe me.

I take a deep breath and draw closer, hovering just outside his office door. It’s cracked open, but I assume he’s alone since it’s so early. That is, until I raise my hand to knock and hear a familiar voice from inside and my stomach drops.

Chance.

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