Page 34 of Worth the Scandal
The dressing shed door creaks open.
Coach.
He walks in like he owns the oxygen in the building. Which he probably does. Especially preseason, we run on coach’s time, rules, and regulations.
“Kingston.”
“Sir.”
He motions me into his office without another word.
We sit. The silence is loaded.
“You’ve been off.”
I nod. “I know.”
“You’ve also been working your ass off. I see it. Every session. Every play. Every goddamn sprint.”
I stare at the floor.
“I know what you’ve been through, Asher. With the time off and the injury.”
I flinch. The “injury” is what anyone outside of my lawyer and the parties involved in the accident, thinks kept me off the field the last year or two.
“Don’t worry,” he adds. “I’m not here to ask for confessions or blood samples. I’m here to tell you this… you’ve got a spot this season. You’re not just playing. You’re leading. I’m putting my faith in you. And I don’t do that lightly. First trial match is a big one and you’re going in.”
My throat tightens. This will be my chance to show coach why I’m the better pick over Caleb.
“Don’t make me regret it,” he says. “And don’t let anyone—not the media, not Caleb, not yourinjury—make you think you don’t deserve it.”
I nod once, jaw locked tight.
He stands. “Go do what you need to do. Get your head right.”
I leave the office numb. The guilt crawling up my spine like a thousand tiny spiders.
He trusts me.
He’s giving me the chance of a lifetime.
And all I can think about is the way Scarlett tasted on my lips. The way she turned to me like her body remembered mine. The way I wanted to push her against the café wall and do unspeakable things.
Coach’s daughter.
My maybe-soon-to-be agent.
And all I want to do is break every rule I’ve ever been handed just to have her again.
I grab the football off the bench, throw it hard against the padded wall.
Over and over.
Until I’m breathless.
Until I forget her name.
For all of five seconds, that is.
