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This is the worst possible scenario when it comes to Coach finding out. Publicly and blown up in our faces.
My phone rings again, vibrating against the counter, and his name flashes across the screen. Time to face him. I sigh as I swipe across the screen, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Hey, Coach…”
“You have thirty goddamn minutes to get into this office, or you are done, Rome.” He says it so calmly, so fucking deadly, that I’m actually a little fucking scared.
“Yes, sir.” He disconnects the call without saying anything further.
That means I’ve got twenty minutes to get to his office.
He didn’t even give me a choice to check on Caroline first, and that makes my stomach twist with anxiousness. I want to make sure she’s okay.
Sixteen minutes later, I walk through the hallway of the practice facility with every eye in the building on me. Some look sympathetic, others simply curious, wondering if I’m actually guilty of what the media is accusing me of, and some avoid eye contact altogether.
Coach’s office is toward the end of the hall, so it takes me a minute to get there, and when I do, I knock only once before it swings open, revealing the man who holds my future in his hands in more ways than one.
His face is beet red, his jaw firmly set, his eyes revealing every bit of his anger.
“In. Now.”
I immediately step through the door, and before my ass even hits the seat, he’s on me.
“You wanna tell me what the fuck this is?” He throws down a printout of the TMZ article with that horrid fucking headline, spittle flying, his face turning even more red. “I thought we were done with this bullshit. You told me you were serious and you had your shit right. Clearly, you’re still that irresponsible kid that I first met. Did you even think about your team? You wanna tell me what in the absolute goddamn hell you were thinking, Rome? Huh?”
I swallow, my knuckles turning white with how hard I’m gripping the armrests of the chair, trying to keep in mind that he has no idea what actually happened, and all he is seeing are these false narratives. Even though it stings that he immediately assumed the worst in me.
But I have a feeling his blood pressure is about to skyrocket when he actually hears the truth.
“I want to start by saying that… that—” I gesture to the paper on his desk. “—is a completely false narrative, and I would never put myself in a compromising position like they’re insinuating. I have too much respect for women to do that. That’s not who I am, andnothingabout that is true.”
He scoffs, pacing behind his desk as he tugs at the gray strands of his hair. “Well, I suggest you get to explaining, Rome. Because the circumstances and pictures are pretty damn incriminating. What were you even doing there? Do you know what a goddamn circus this is? Do you even know how many phone calls, emails, text messages I have gotten this morning about this? It’s a literal goddamn nightmare.”
“I understand that we have had a rocky history, Coach. It’s no secret, and I think this conversation should be one of honesty, not beating around the bush. You’ve disliked me from the very first day you became the coach of this team, and I don’t blame you.”
His gaze narrows as he leans over the desk.
I clear my throat, continuing. “I don’t blame you for feeling that way because if I was in your position, walking on to a new team with a player who was constantly in the headlines for shit, then I would have felt the same way. But I also am nothing like the man you met all those years ago. I’m nothing like the man that you knew a year ago, and while I don’t need recognition for my growth, what I do need is respect.” I pause as I gauge his reaction, but his face remains blank, and fuck if that isn’t what makes me slightly more on edge. “I have worked hard as fuck to prove myself to you, not only as a player but as a man, and you’ve never changed your opinion of me no matter how hard I’ve tried. I know this situation sets us back, but I hope that you’ll give me a real chance to explain everything. It is not what it seems.”
“I’m still sitting here, Rome,” he grumbles.
“I hate being called the Playboy Playmaker, more than you know, and I’ve been trying to free myself of that shit for so long. It was cool when I was a rookie, but I’m not that guy anymore, and I haven’t been for a long time. The girl in that photo is someone I love. Very fucking much. Someone who I was trying to protect from a scary situation she found herself in.”
His expression changes to one of surprise, his brow furrowing. “You’re dating this girl?”
I hesitate before responding, shifting in my chair as I try to find out the exact way that I need to phrase this. “Notexactly. Coach, the girl in that photo is Caroline. I am in love with your daughter.”
He laughs humorously. “Is this a joke? Are you fuckers playing a prank on me and this is your version of funny? This is serious, Rome. Quit fucking around.”
I shake my head, my jaw tightening along with my hands as they grip the chair. “Caroline and I met at the Stanley Cup party, and neither of us had any clue as to who the other was. We never expected to see each other again after that night, so the day that we met again in your office, we were both completely… knocked off-kilter. I want you to know that I did not know she was your daughter, and when I found out, I did not pursue her… well… at first.”
“Rome, I’m going to fucking kill you.” He seethes. “You’ve been sleeping with my fucking daughter? She’s in goddamncollege! She’s mydaughter!” He comes around the desk, and for a second, I think he might actually hit me, which I would take, but he just shakes his head, his fists clenching at his side. “Tell me why the fuck does she look like she’s unconscious?”
“I’m not sorry for falling in love with her. I never will be. I won’t apologize for the way that I feel about her because it is so pure, the best thing I’ve ever known. I’m sorry that we had a relationship behind your back, behind everyone’s back. I am. But I would do it again and again for her. I’m sorry you had to find out this way—it’s not how I wanted to tell you. But when I realized I was in love with her, I knew I had to tell you… I was going to tell you.”
“What the fuck happened to my daughter? Tell me why she looks like that in this picture,” Coach interrupts, frantically running his hands through his hair.
“First, you need to know that she’s okay. She’s safely sleeping in her bed at the sorority house. I made sure of it.” I pause, dragging my hand down my face. “Last night, she was out with her roommate at a party, drinking. Her roommate called me to come pick her up from the party because Caroline seemed really drunk and out of it.”
