Page 48 of The Groupie

Zak

Chuck and I are the only two left in the waiting room when Rylee finally comes through the door. On fucking crutches.

“Are you all right?” I get to her side first, but just barely. The asshole coach is quick. He’s a former pro athlete. Of course, he is.

“What did the doctor say?” Chuck grips her arm, and I want to rip his arm off.

“What are you two still doing here?” She looks from me to Chuck and back again. “Where’s Suzie?”

“She left,” I say. “Sheila had work, and Suzie had practice, so I told her to go, that I would stay because I have the morning off.” It’s not a lie. I didn’t mention that I had to ask for the time off, claiming I had pressing personal business. The only reason coach went along with it was my performance last night. He warned me not to slip and make him regret it.

“I told him he shouldn’t stay,” Chuck says, still gripping her arm. “We have official Olympic business to discuss.”

She rips her arm away from him, and the only thing more satisfying would have been if she’d hit him with the crutch. She glares at him. “I came with Zak.”

“I’ll drive you home.” It’s my knee-jerk response, and as I think it over, I wouldn’t change it based on the look on Chuck’s face alone.

“We have to talk, Rylee.”

“Not here. Not now.” She heads for the door.

“Not at your house,” he says, following her out of the office and to the garage. “Let’s get lunch at my hotel.” He juts his chin in my direction. “He can drop you off. I’ll take care of you from there.”

Something about Chuck hits me the wrong fucking way. Who am I kidding? Everything about him hits me the wrong way. His very presence makes me want to punch someone. Plus, the way he treats Rylee like he owns her, doesn’t sit right. Okay, it’s the main fucking thing and more than enough to boil my blood. Because even though we’re only having a temporary fling, she’s mine for the moment, and it doesn’t sit well when some asshole moves in.

“I’m staying with her,” I say. “Especially if she’s going to your hotel.” I grit my teeth in a hostile smile.

He ignores me. “Let’s go, Rylee. We’ll talk over lunch, and you can catch the next flight back to Park City with me. You can take advantage of the state-of-the-art medical and training facilities and—”

“No,” I say at the same time as Rylee. My heart bumps hard into my chest wall at that. I thought I might have to fight her.

She looks at me, surprise registering before she frowns. “That’s asking for trouble with all the media there constantly asking questions. Tell the Olympic officials I’m away on personal leave, taking care of my mother because it’s true. I’m not leaving Mamma right now. She’s going to have surgery.”

“She’s your foster mother,” Chuck says. Is that a hint of disdain in the asshole’s voice?

Rylee stiffens and drifts in my direction, and I’m not even sure she realizes it, but I put an arm around her, crutches and all.

“Rylee will be fine here,” I add. “I’ll see to it.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“It doesn’t matter who he is,” Rylee says, and I’m not sure if she’s coming to my defense or sweeping me under the rug.

“I’m the guy who knows all the best doctors, PTs, and trainers in Boston, and I can get her access to state-of-the-art facilities like ice baths and whatever the hell else she needs.”

Chuck snorts and raises one brow in serious skepticism.

“I’m staying,” she says. “Tell the officials I’m caring for my mother for the next ten to fourteen days.” She nearly spits the words at Chuck. He stares at her, his mouth in a grim line, ignoring me.

“I am an Olympic official, Rylee.”

Her chin goes up, and everything on her face screams defiance.

I hold her closer, tighter.

“And?”

He stares at her, his face turning red in frustration and anger. I want to sweep her away, but he is an Olympic official as a coach, and we have to deal with him. So, I wait him out until he heaves out a long breath.