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“What’s going on, Cam?” He leans forward, elbows resting on the desk, fingers steepled, hazel eyes boring into me.
I do my best not to squirm.
No, I’m going to be a man about this.
I shuffle my feet and gesture at the empty chair in front of his desk. “May I?”
“Of course.”
Sliding into the seat, I swallow hard over the gigantic rock in my throat. I take a deep breath and try to figure out the best way to say I want to date his one and only daughter.
Coach waits while I debate with myself, blood roaring loud in my ears.
“I want to date your daughter, sir.”
Wow. Okay.That was really fucking direct.
Coach blinks, once, twice, but says nothing. His lips thin, he’s pressing them together so tight. Probably to keep from saying whatever it is he’s thinking. Which may very well be something along the lines ofGo fuck yourself.
After a long, long moment, he breaks. “You sure about that, son?”
Not one-hundred percent certain what he means by that comment, I nod. “Yes.”
“Because I know you’re trying to get back to the pros. And that takes time. And focus. And commitment. Sloanecould be—will be—a distraction.” He cracks his knuckles and the crunching sound bounces off the cinder block walls, echoing around the small room.
“She’s worth it, sir.”
Coach leans back in his creaky chair and contemplates me. Like he’s seeing me for the first time. Maybe not as a player, but as a man.
Possibly a threat, and that thought’s less than comforting.
“I don’t want to see you mess up your career, son. Or break Sloane’s heart. One asshole’s already done that. And she’s tough, but twice in a row is kinda hard to deal with. Even for someone as strong as my daughter.”
My chest tightens as I absorb his words, his fears. Worry’s etched on his face, tension thick between us.
“I understand, sir.”
And I do.
I hear what he’s saying, feel his anxiety with every palpitation of my own heart.
But none of it surpasses my love for his daughter.
Shit.
I love Sloane Carter.
The thought hits me harder than Dalton’s football to the chest. I’ve probably always loved her, I was just too caught up in my own life and football to see it.
“I’ll do right by your daughter, sir, I swear. I’m going to get back to the pros. And I’ll take care of her. She means the world to me. That’s why I’m talking to you about it. I appreciate your hospitality, more than you’ll ever know. But I found my own place and I’m moving out. And if you’d prefer me to not practice with the team, I understand.” I swallow and hold my breath, waiting for him to explode. Or worse, agree with the last stupid-assthing I said. Because I kind of still need his coaching advice.
“Sounds like you’ve made up your mind then. I appreciate you being forthright with me, Cam. And you know I’ve always treated you like a son.” He leans forward again, pausing, steepling and resteepling his fingers. “But hear me when I say this—if you hurt my daughter, you’ll be answering to me. Everything I’ve ever done has been for her. She’s my entire world. And no man—even someone I like as much as you—is going to hurt her without answering to me. Are we clear?”
I straighten my shoulders, sitting up as tall as possible. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. See you tomorrow.”
He shoots me a salute and I take the hint, slipping out of his office and leaving him alone before he can grill me on any of the details.
