All It Took

10.Jeff

Waiting For A Girl Like You // Foreigner

I'm at the athletic building early. Way fucking early. But when Coach leaves you a message that he needs to 'talk,' you fucking go. My nerves are off the charts. I keep wiping the sweat from my palms on my jeans, trying not to look like a guilty party. I feel like a jerk. But damn, he's not just my coach, he's my ex's father.

My ex. No one could have convinced me that Alison would ever be in that category. I thought she was the one from the first night we met. Was, ha. She is. That hasn't changed even though our status has. It had to. I needed distance to keep her safe. Declan can't know how I really feel about her. He's fucking unhinged and I wouldn't put it past him to mess with her just to fuck with me. He's already hinted at it, multiple times.

I want to punch Reign in the face so freaking hard. I'm livid that he's put me in this situation. What the hell was he thinking? About his own skin, that's what. Asshole. I keep my distance, but he keeps trying to get in my space, in my head.

I can't think about this shit anymore. I push these thoughts away as I knock on Coach's door.

"Come in," he says.

I turn the knob, my sweaty hands slipping as I do, and enter his domain. The air is already thick with accusation. He fucking hates me now. I broke his daughter's heart.

At least, I think I did. I haven't talked to her since I ended things so I'm not aware how she handled it. I'm a mess. If she felt for me even the fraction of what I felt for her, she's not going to be doing well.

"Sit." He's not looking at me as he issues his command.

I obey without a word. I never would have created this situation unless I had to. But I can't even tell him why I had to do it. So I'll end up looking like a piece of shit, instead. Fuck.

"I think we both know why I called you in here so early. I didn't want anyone overhearing our conversation."

I nod. Still silent.

"Would you like to start, or shall I?"

"Whatever you'd like, Coach."

Coach doesn't say anything right away. He steeples his fingers at his mouth, lips spread flat. His eyes are hard, locked on me as though he's trying to get in my head. I should warn him it's not a good place to be. Not right now.

"We've got a big problem," he finally says. "And I think you know more than you're saying."

"Um, I haven't said anything yet, Coach." I lean forward, wanting him to read my body language because I can't say with words how terrible I feel. "I don't think there's anything more to say."

"That's where you're wrong." He stands, turning to look out his office window. "I think a little history lesson would be helpful."

I cough. "History, Coach?"

"Hmm." He turns back to face me. "A few years ago, I had a freshman on the team. Thirsty, hard-working, but lacked the strength he needed to compete at the college level. He was also full of himself. Thought he could do no wrong and used any means necessary to work the system."

Coach sits back down before he continues.

"He was good friends with Reign for a while."

I gulp. I think I know who he's talking about now, but I stay silent rather than make a confession.

"The thing was, this kid was into some bad stuff. I should have seen the signs earlier but he was smart. The changes were gradual so nothing too noticeable was going on. At least, not until the end of the season. He'd bulked up a bit, but often times freshman will hit a growth spurt after months of regular workouts and following the nutrition plan. This was different. That last game he got into it with another player, someone on our team. Near broke the kid's arm out of rage over a failed block."