Page 63 of The Comeback

“You’re welcome. That’s what friends are for.”

“I’ve got class in seven minutes.”

“That’s a good girl.” She coos like she’s patting her dog on the head. Roger is a big brown dog that drools on everything and knocks stuff over with his tail. That’s about as good as I can get at this point. “Give him time. He’ll come around.”

I straighten and toss my head back. “No. I’m over him. I’m not dating a football player. That’s the end of the story.”

“Charlotte.”

“I’ve got to go,” I say in a sing-song voice and snap off the call. That’s my promise, and I’m sticking to it.

Chapter Thirty-Three

One Week Later

Weston

The oppressive heat of the July sun beats down on my head as I jog down the hill at training camp. Most of the other players are already on the practice fields, but it’s like dragging a one-hundred-pound weight behind me to get up in the mornings.

Sweat beads on my forehead. It’s so humid. Why do we have to have outdoor practice?

I swipe my brow and scan the area. Gunner is wearing a yellow jersey to alert everyone else to steer clear of him. The last thing the team wants is an injury to their star player. He slings the ball twenty yards down the field to a jumping Tony, who catches it in one hand. From my viewpoint, I can’t hear their laughter, but I see it on their faces.

The crowd of onlookers gathers around the fence that divides them from us. Later, they’ll shove sports memorabilia and pens over the barrier at whoever is willing to provide an autograph.

Another line of fans files into the stands area as the bright sun beams off the silver bleachers. The crowd is in a frenzy today.

“Hey, Weston.” Knox heads in my direction. I don’t want to talk to him. But it looks like I don’t have a choice. He stops in front of me. “What happened between you and my sister?”

I stumble over the toe of my shoe and barely save myself from faceplanting on the close-cut green grass. “It wasn’t the right time.”

His eyes narrow into tiny slits. “When is the right time?”

“Listen, we’re at training camp, and my focus needs to be on that. I don’t have time for distractions.” The last thing I want to do is fight with her brother when I can’t talk to her. She needs to hear what I have to say before anyone else.

Across the field, Coach Tillman addresses the defense. No. The last thing I want to do is to be stuck in a room with her dad. Why in the fuck did I decide to date a coach’s daughter?

Like there was a choice. The second I saw her; I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. And I haven’t gotten her out of my head since then.

A stabbing pain shoots through my chest. Fuck. I clutch my chest. Is this the big one? If it is, take me now. I groan and shake my head.

“I don’t take kindly to pricks fucking over my sister.” He slams his hands on his hips. “But you look like shit. I think you’re taking this worse than she is.” He chuckles.

“What does that mean?” Is she seeing someone else already? Panic eats at my gut.

“Nothing, man.” He continues to laugh and shoves my shoulder. “My sister is tough. You might think you’ve got the upper hand, but you’re underestimating the situation.” He runs off to join his crew, leaving me alone on the sidelines, itching to call her. To hop in my car, drive back to the city, and demand she explain herself. Hell. It’s none of your business. She’s free to date someone else. It was my choice to dump her.

When I stop at the edge of the field, Coach Tillman eyes me up and down. “So glad you could finally join us.”

“Yes, sir.”

I go through the drills with the first string for the next hour as sweat pours down my back, draining along my ass crack like a river flowing out into the ocean. I lean over, gasping while trying to catch my breath.

“You’re slow,” Coach Tillman growls.

“What?” I heave in a deep, ragged breath and stand.

“You’re a second slower.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “What’s up with you?”

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