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“That’s a lot of ifs.”
Her face lit with determination. “But we’re not out yet. We can still do this. It’s not over until it’s over.”
No, but it just got a hell of a lot harder.
I splashed cold water on my puffy eyes. Claire flashed me a tight smile and offered me a paper towel. I drew a breath. She was right. A small flicker of relief warmed my chest. We still had a chance. The odds were slim, but while breath moved in my body, I wouldn’t stop fighting for this. I’d made a promise to take this team to the top, and I’d do my best to keep that promise, even if I was falling apart.
Claire’s gaze dropped to my fingers, which were wrapped so tightly around the basin my knuckles were white. I clasped my hands behind my back. A couple of purple strands had escaped my ponytail and I scraped them back. Sean’s voice rang in my head.
Do better with your roots. You can tell everything you need to know about a person from the state of their hair.
Staring at myself then in the mirror, it hit me. All I could see was the things Sean thought were wrong with me: the kink in my hair that would never lie flat, my pale skin, and the patch on my cheek that had scarred after my teenage bouts of acne. It didn’t matter how much powder I put on, I knew the imperfections were there.
Heat pressed behind my eyes again and I turned my face away. I couldn’t risk Claire revealing to Gabe Rivers that she’d found me weeping in the toilets. It was bad enough that she’d found me like this. What if they put someone else in charge? Lana was always there, waiting in the wings. What if they took me off the team entirely? Oh God. Is that why they’d brought a psychologist in? Were Claire and Gabe worried I was losing it?
Claire shot me a glance. “Has Evan Lewis spoken to you yet?”
“Evan Lewis?”
“He’s a friend of Gabe’s. He owns the LA Halos.”
The memory drifted back. He’d tried to talk to me at Gabe’s party before I’d run away.
Claire smoothed a perfect brow in the mirror. “Just a heads up, but there might be a transfer deal in the pipeline if you’re interested. He’s been asking a lot of questions. We’re thinking of a swap. A temporary thing. We take one of theirs for a year.”
“You want to transfer me?”
Claire watched me with a solemn expression before she nodded. “If it’s what you want.”
“No way.” I gave a snort of derision. “No way would I leave this team. I’m the captain.”
“I thought you’d say that, but don’t write it off too quickly. This is an amazing development opportunity.”
My heart hammered. Why was she telling me this now? “Are you trying to get rid of me? I don’t know what happened out there, but it was a one-off. It won’t happen again, I swear—”
“Of course not.” Her brows drew together in an affronted frown. “It would benefit us all in the long run. You’d come back an even stronger leader. Imagine what you could learn from them. We’re talking about one of the best teams in the world.”
“It’s not up for debate. I would never leave this team.”
“Fine, but think about it at least.” She watched me for a minute before she flashed me another tight smile. “You know I’m here. If you ever want to talk about anything… anything at all.”
“I’m fine,” I lied. My chest tightened. “Absolutely fine.”
Chapter 9
Reece
Skylar fiddled with the silver bar in her eyebrow. I tried to force my gaze to her eyes, but I couldn’t stop myself from drinking her in. Purple leggings clung to her strong, toned legs and perfect backside. Her cheeks were pink and her purple hair loose and damp as though she’d just stepped out of the shower. Thoughts of her naked, lathering herself with soap, scrubbing the mud from her beautiful, toned body forced themselves into my mind.
My stomach knotted with guilt. I had no business thinking about her undressed or noticing the color of her leggings or the perfection inherent in every delicious inch of her body. This was a client. It had to be a professional therapeutic relationship, even if my brain still wanted to act like a horny fourteen-year-old.
She peered over my shoulder into my office. “Are you busy?”
I dragged my attention back to her face. “Not busy. Come in. How are you feeling?”
“I don’t even know where to start.” She dropped into a chair and held her head in hands. “I might have just lost us the chance of promotion. We’ve worked so hard all season, and I fucked it up.”
I closed the door and settled in the chair across from her. “I saw you doing your best under enormous pressure. You didn’t fuck anything up.”
