Page 87 of Let You Love Me

I ignore him, instead focusing to my right as I watch Coach exit his vehicle with none other than Chance fucking Lockhart in the passenger seat.

I clench my jaw, hating how close he is to Lane’s father.

My gaze shifts to where Lane stands by her car, turned toward them as they approach, and a ball of nerves fist in my gut. I know she’s probably playing it off like she came to see her father—it’s less suspicious that way—but the jealous asshole in me doesn’t want Chance talking to her.

I can’t read her lips from this angle, but whatever she tells Coach must do the trick. Only a moment passes before he draws her into a hug, then peers inside at Sophie before he turns for the bus.

Behind him, Chance follows, his gaze flickering over Lane in a way that makes my skin crawl. But he says nothing to her. Instead, he makes a beeline for the bus, and I exhale.

Mandretti, one of our defensive linemen, swivels in the seat in front of me and grins. “Cute bracelet.” Not a second passes before Coach boards and his grin deepens. “You know you’re gonna be fucked, right?”

I ignore him, my face a mask of cool indifference as I stare straight ahead while Coach addresses the driver and Chance continues down the aisle.

Across from us Bryce chortles. “The pink hearts are a nice touch,” he says. “I suspected you might like ‘em young, but damn, bro, this takes it to a whole new level.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I snap. I know they’re just razzing me. Being a dick to your teammates and roasting their ass is par for the course, but I don’t like him saying anything about Sophie.

“Ooh, touchy.”

“You sure you want Coach to see you wearing that?” Greene from behind me.

“His daughter has a kid?” Tommy whispers.

Chance freezes, his gaze jerking to Tommy as he passes, then to mine where it homes in on the colorful bracelet on my wrist. Anger sparks in his eyes, a subtle change most might not notice, but it’s a look I recognize from that evening in Slice.

Completely oblivious to the exchange, Mandretti asks, “Hey, Lockhart, you see this shit? Nichols’s new girlfriend, here, made it a point to bring him a good luck charm.”

“Probably so Coach doesn’t beat his ass,” Bryce says under his breath.

“Shut it down.Now,” I grind out, and Mandretti raises his hands, palms out in surrender.

Chance brushes past me, glaring at me with malice in his eyes as he bumps into my shoulder,hard.

It’s a warning; I have no doubt he knows exactly who the bracelet is from, especially after passing Lane in the parking lot.

Too bad I don’t give a fuck.

#

The stadium buzzes with excitement, kicking the adrenaline in my veins into overdrive. The crowd roars as the line scrambles into formation. Only one and a half minutes is left on the timer until the end of the game, and we’re three points away from winning.

The pressure is on.

Underneath the glare of stadium lights, I take my position, heart pounding with anticipation. The play we’re about to run means the ball will go to me, and I’m ready. More than ready. Hell, I’ve been waiting for the opportunity all night.

My muscles coil as I bend down. My fingers sink into the sod as I ready for the snap of the ball.

“Set, hut!” Chance’s command echoes across the field, and the play unfolds like well-rehearsed choreography. Receivers dash downfield skirting defenseman, while the offensive line forms aprotective wall. I break free from my defender, exactly how I’m supposed to, my eyes fixating on the end zone.

I turn, arms outstretched and ready for the pass, when the ball sails over my head and to the left.

Shit.

This is no mistake. Clearly, it’s not meant for me. Chance Lockhart is too good of a quarterback to miscalculate so poorly, and when the ball finds its mark in the waiting arms of our wide receiver, the crowd erupts in cheers.

He’s taken down only ten yards from the end zone, which means we still have a chance.

My heart sinks, though I shouldn’t be surprised by the turn of events. This isn’t the first time today I’ve been overlooked. Chance is cockblocking me; that’s all there is to it.

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