Page 47 of Let You Love Me

With any luck, he’s here for Teagan.

Maybe it’s something for the team, and he’ll get whatever he wants, then go.

Teagan leans back in the booth, stretching his arms above his head, limbs loose and relaxed, even when Chance’s eyes narrow to slits.

“Hey, man, what’s up?” Teagan drawls.

“Didn’t Coach warn us about fraternizing with his daughter?”

My head jerks to find Chance’s sneer as he glances over at me, but when his gaze flickers to Sophie, his pupils dilate, like he’s surprised she’s here.

My hackles rise as I draw her into my side, further from view.

“No,” Teagan drawls, then drops his arms back onto the table. “I believe Coach only warned us not to date her, hit on her, or harass her. This is none of those things because we’re friends.” He flashes me a dimpled smile. “Last I recall, he never said we couldn’t be friends with her.”

The muscle in Chance’s jaw flickers, his eyes turning to gunmetal as he stares him down. A minute of silence passes, the tension pulling like a tightrope between us before he turns back to me, his posture rigid as he asks, “Can I have a word with you?”

I swallow. Across the table, I feel Teagan’s gaze on me, and our eyes meet.

I wonder if he’s questioning the parameters of my relationship with Chance? Maybe even drawing his own conclusions.

“I can’t just leave Sophie . . .” I trail off, turning to where she’s eating her pizza, still tucked into my side, mostly ignoring us as she flips through the pages of her book.

“I think she’d be fine for two minutes.” He rolls his eyes, like anything otherwise would be ridiculous, and I want to deck him.

“No, Chance, she wouldn’t,” I grind out, “She’s four, not—”

“Have yourfriendwatch her, then.” He arches a brow in challenge.

My nostrils flare. Loathing spreads through my limbs like long, broad strokes of a paintbrush, until I want to scream. How did I ever see this man as anything more than he is: a complete narcissist whose only concern is for himself?

Teagan slides from the booth, rises to his feet, and when he squares his shoulders, straightening to full height, his presence dwarfs everything else in the room, including Chance. “Maybe you should leave,” he says, the playful edge in his voice gone.

Chance scoffs. “I don’t think so, buddy. Not until I speak with her.”

“Doesn’t look like she wants to talk to you.”

Chance’s eyes narrow. “I don’t take orders from freshmen,” he says, and when he tries to sidestep Teagan, the latter stops him with a hand to the chest.

My heart jumps in my throat. Though I’m grateful for how readily he’s come to my defense, I don’t want to be the source of tension between them. Teagan’s a good guy; I don’t need to spend any more time with him to know that. But Chance will choose himself every time, and if there’s any advantage to gain from tearing Teagan down, he’ll take it. Teagan has already been given a warning from my father, and I wouldn’t put itpast Chance to cause him more problems because of his own wounded pride.

Chance’s gaze darkens, his gaze homing in on Teagan’s hand. “Awful protective of her for just afriend,”he snarls.

His eyes lift at the same time I slide from the booth, coming between them. “We can talk,” I say before I turn to Teagan. “Do you mind?” I nod toward Sophie.

Teagan’s jaw clenches, but he offers me a curt nod and sits back down. “Not at all.”

Steering Chance away from the booth, I storm toward the back of the pizza parlor to the alcove by the bathrooms. From here, I can still see their booth, but we’re also far enough away that they can’t overhear us.

Anger spikes my veins as I cross my arms over my chest. First, the conversations on the field, and now this. He’s seriously stepping over some boundaries. I have no idea what’s gotten into him, but he’s about two seconds away from me releasing years of pent-up frustration.

“What are you even doing here?” I hiss.

Chance flinches. “What amIdoing here? That’s rich, considering I show up here to grab a takeout order, and I see you with my teammateandmy daughter.”

I jerk back as if I’ve been slapped.

Blinking up at him, I try and focus through the emotions ping-ponging inside my brain, but my pulse pounds so loudly in my ears, I can’t think straight. “Yourdaughter?” A bitter sound escapes my lip, part laugh, part huff of disbelief. “Suddenly, after four fucking years, she’syourdaughter now?”

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