Page 23 of Love at Second Down

“Then how do you know you can even get him there?” I ask, skeptical. “Maybe he’ll see right through this.”

A slow-spreading grin snakes onto Chris’s mouth. “Oh, ye of little faith. Don’t you worry, Daddy Collins is running the show.”

My brows rise to my hairline.

“Again, with thedaddyshit.” Jace groans while Brandon shakes his head and West sits by, looking quietly amused.

“What he means,” Brandon says, standing, “is you’ll get your chance to talk.”

My chest tightens. “And if talking to me makes things worse?”

Everyone glances at Chris as if the thought hasn’t crossed their mind.

Chris shrugs, then rises to his feet, taking his coffee cup with him. “It’ll work.”

“How do you know?” I ask while the vise on my chest ratchets down tighter, afraid to hope.

“Because . . .” Chris, pauses dramatically and waves a hand in the air like it should be obvious. “He’s not over you. He never was.”

Chapter 8

DAMON

If my fucking phone rings one more time . . .

As if on cue, the familiar trill of my ringtone slices through the air. With a growl, I pump out a dozen more push-ups, then roll onto my back and start in on sit-ups. As if practice and conditioning weren’t enough, I decided to punish my body a little more. Mostly because the burning in my muscles helps to distract me from things I don’t want to think about.

The call goes to voicemail, then quickly starts up again.

With a sigh, I pause and swipe it off the floor to see Chris’s name flash across the screen. Again.

What the hell does he want?

He’s been bugging me for the last hour. First, he asked me to come over for pizza, but when I said no to that, he asked if I’d help him with a lit paper. At my answeringhell no, he saidhe needed girl advice. When I told him to go fuck himself, he retorted with,“Been there, done that; Charlotte’s working on a paper.”After that, I stopped answering his texts.

Apparently, he’s resorted to phone calls now.

With a groan, I answer, knowing he won’t stop until I do, and press the phone to my ear, slightly out of breath. “What do you want?”

“Why are you out of breath?”

“Because I’m working out, asshole, and you’re interrupting. Now, what do you want?”

“You’re working out?” Chris scoffs. “We just got done with practice an hour ago.”

“So?”

“So, if you’re working out after Coach already kicked your ass, that means something must be wrong.”

“And why would it mean that?” I ask with a sigh.

“Because obviously you’re upset and trying to repress your emotions. It’s a classic avoidance tactic. Guys have been using it for centuries.”

I reach up and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Save me the psychoanalysis, Collins. Now if you’re done?” I pull the phone away from my ear with a roll of the eyes.

“Wait!” he screams. “I know you’re about to hang up, but you can’t because I need your help.”

I knead the crease in my brow. He’s wearing me down; I can feel it. “What could you possibly need my help with?” I ask, lifting the phone back to my ear.

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