Page 22 of Let You Love Me

I turn and head for the living room while any notion I had of texting Teagan back goes up in smoke.

I don’t date. But even if I did, no amount of charm would be enough for me to date a football player. Especially not one of my father’s players.

The one and only time I broke that rule, I wound up pregnant with a broken heart.

Chapter 5

TEAGAN

The late summer sunbeats down on my back while I finish stretching, and my teammates wait beside me for Coach to show. Word is he’s calling a team meeting, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly nervous at the prospect.

Showing up on his doorstep yesterday went about as good as expected; he gruffly accepted my apology, then told me we’d deal with it Monday on the field.

Well, it’s Monday, and I’m no less nervous to see what he has in store for me than I had been the moment I got caught.

A whistle blows on the sidelines and my attention shifts.

Coach walks toward us with an air of authority that comes with being a weathered veteran of the game. Two of his assistant coaches flank him, along with Mark Reid, the equipment manager for the team.

Behind them, I spot several of my teammates, including Chance Lockhart, rolling four massive tires onto the field, and my stomach sinks.

There are two men to a tire, and even then, they’re red-faced and sweating their asses off.

Another glance at Coach and the smug smile he wears like a badge of honor, and I know I’m fucked.

Something tells me this isn’t a part of our normal workout today.

His eyes scan the men around me, pausing a second to lock eyes with me before moving on. “It was brought to my attention on Saturday night, as I’m sure many of you are aware, that the Wildcats like to do a little freshman initiation, or hazing, if you will. And since it seems Teagan Nichols, one of our tight ends”—he sweeps an arm in my direction—“likes to move tires, I thought we’d give him an opportunity to showcase his skills.”

I groan as he turns a pointed stare at me, his closely trimmed beard twitching with his smile before he glances away again. “Now, I might be an old man, but I’m no fool. I know more than just one person is responsible for stealing and dumping the tires of those four cars, but only one was dumb enough to get caught.”

Gee, thanks.

“So, if any of you are man enough to admit your involvement, you can join your friend Teagan here, and help him out with one of these tires. Otherwise, he will be responsible for flippingallfour of them to the end zonehimself.”

My eyes widen, but I play it cool despite the string of curses I rattle off in my head. Those tires have to weigh four hundred pounds apiece easily, and from their position on the field, I’ll need to flip each of them one hundred yards.

Beside me, Tommy starts to step forward, but I block him with my arm, giving him a subtle shake of the head. I already took the fall for these guys, and I’m not going to fuck it up now because Coach is a masochist.

Besides, something tells me this is more than punishment. It’s a test. He wants to see how loyal I am, if I’m a team player or if I’ll squeal under pressure.

If there’s one thing you can count on from me, it’s my fucking loyalty.

Some of these guys will share the field with me for four years. Many of them will become my brothers, comrades in battle, and you don’t win by throwing each other into the gauntlet, even if it’s to fight alongside you.

Or maybe he’s testing everyone else.

Maybe he wants to see all of them step forward and take the heat as a team. But I know some of these guys and they’re scared shitless of getting the boot and having their scholarships revoked. Not that I blame them. My love of the game aside, without my scholarship, I’d have to take out a shit ton of loans to get my degree.

Several other freshmen glance my way, a question in their eyes I try my best to answer as I step forward, chin held high.

I can feel Chance Lockhart burning a hole through the side of my face but ignore him. Something tells me he’s loving every second of this, and I won’t give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of me.

“It was just me, sir,” I say before anyone else can take the heat.

It needs to be one of us or all of us; there is no in-between.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Chance smirk, and let it boil my blood. I’ll need the anger to motivate me if I’m to move these tires.

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