Page 41 of The Silent Count
Abel wasn’t planning to drive me, but he owes me a favor for helping him win back Scarlett and now I have something to cash in on.
I glance over at the clock.
Shit.
I need to hurry with these emails so I can catch him before he makes it to the parking lot.
* * *
Half an hour later,I’m sitting in the passenger seat of his blacked-out SUV. A line of high-end cars winds through the side streets of Miami as the team drives to the private airport that houses the team’s jet.
“Can’t say I’m surprised about you and Fortune.” Abel looks over at me with a half-smile. “I knew he was a goner once I caught him staring at you during that pre-season charity gala.”
“Did you know that he and I have been friends for years?”
“He mentioned it to me last night while we were talking. Funny how that worked out, isn’t it?”
Funny isn’t exactly the word I would use to describe the whole pen pal situationship Fortune, and I had going on, but I find it quite comical that both of us were oblivious to the fact that the other person knew about the relationship. I couldn’t have dreamed up a sillier scenario if I tried.
“Your dad’s going to be fucking pissed when you tell him, though.”
“I know…” I sigh at the reminder.
“How are the two of you planning on breaking the news to him?”
“We’re waiting until the end of the season.”
“Smart fucking choice,” he laughs as we approach a red light. I shoot him a scowl, but all he does is give me a knowing smile. “I don’t know… call me fucking crazy, but I think Coach will be a lot more accepting than you’re giving him credit for.”
“What makes you think that?”
“It’s just who he is, Lea.” His voice is soft, and the look he’s giving me has tears pricking the back of my throat. “Coach will tell you he’s pissed at you one second and then twenty minutes later he’ll be chatting it up like he didn’t just rip you a new asshole.”
I throw my head back and laugh.
He’s right. That’s exactly how my dad is.
“I also get the feeling that he’s a bit of a sucker for love. If the two of you are honest with him—tell him the entire story from the beginning the way Fortune told me last night—there’s no way he’s going to be upset about two people finding their person.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
SEVENTEEN
FORTUNE
“I don’t knowhow to say this, son…” Coach trails off while looking ominously out his window. “But I’m disappointed in you.”
Fuck me.
Never once in my career have I been called in for a meeting with one of the coaches for something other than to sing my praises like a hymnal in church on Sunday. It’s never a good sign when you get called into the office the day after a game. I’m not naïve. I’m fully aware that I didn’t play as well yesterday as I could have. And this part of the season is always the hardest for me. There’s only a few more games left of the regular season and right now every game—every play—is a make-or-break moment that can determine a team’s chance of getting to the playoffs.
There’s also the underlying understanding that my father will show up at a game soon. We only have three more home games, and the weight of knowing that he’s coming… but notwhenhe’s coming rests heavy on my shoulders.
I don’t respond to Coach Sterling’s statement, but he doesn’t follow up with any insight, either.
He’s a lot like Lea in the sense that he likes to watch his players squirm. I can’t recall how many team meetings we’ve had where he’ll pace the front of the film room auditorium, hands on his hips while shaking his head. He tries to let you figure out why he’s mad before he actually tells you, letting your mind reel. Causing you to doubt yourself even when you’re certain you knew the reason for his agitation the entire time.
