Page 75 of The No Try Zone
I grunt. She’d never admit that it’s hard being away from her routine. That there’s only so much physical therapy she can do in the hotel room.
“And no way were we missing big brother’s first pro game as head coach,” Erin says, reaching up from the back seat to shake my shoulder. “We’re proud of you.”
I swallow back the emotion. “Thanks,” I say, my voice thick with emotion.
“Your grandpa would be proud of you, too,” Mom adds quietly.
Erin and I lock eyes in the rearview mirror as she says, “He would.”
No one mentions Dad.
Chapter28
Colin
SAM STEPS INTO my office on Monday and I look up quizzically. I didn’t see her yesterday, and her arrival is unexpected. But welcome. “What’s up?”
“We need to talk about Xavier.”
“He was great as openside flanker yesterday,” I say. And it’s true: the way he gave every bit of himself was fucking beautiful. It’s everything a coach wants to see: a player coming into his own.
“And I told you he was pushing too hard weeks ago,” she says, crossing her arms and scowling at me.
“He’s working with you, right?”
“He shouldn’t have to,” she shoots back.
“Sam, this is part of the game. He’s a professional athlete. You’re his physical therapist. Figure it out.”
Her lips twitch.
I study her. “Wait. Are you messing with me?”
She looks back toward the open door, shrugs, and steps closer. “Maybe.” Her hips swing as she comes around the desk.
I turn in my chair, heart racing at the possibility of getting caught but unable to tell her to stop.
She moves between my legs and rests her hands on the arms of the chair before leaning down. I catch the scent of her, clean and woodsy, before finally remembering myself.
“Sam, no,” I hiss.
Hurt flashes across her face for a millisecond before she recovers. “Of course.” She backs up. “Keeping this quiet is the only way.”
Guilt floods my system as I register the bitterness in her tone. “It’s better this way,” I remind her. “We talked about it.” Not that it makes this any easier.
“I know,” she says, crossing her arms. “Ollie.”
“Ollie,” I agree, wheeling the chair farther away from her and hating myself for it. It’s that or pull her onto my lap and kiss her. “And Scott. And the rest of the team.”
When she doesn’t respond, I try again. “Are you coming over tonight?”
She looks away, her ponytail swishing as she clenches her jaw. Light reflects off the tiny diamond studs in her ears, and it makes me remember the way the lights glinted off her ring the night I slid it onto her finger. Not that I can bring that up.
“Sam,” I cajole. “Come on. I’ll cook. I won’t even burn the chicken this time.”
That does it. She cracks a smile and gives the tiniest of laughs before saying, “Fine.” She won’t meet my gaze, though, and it hurts more than it should.
“Bring an overnight bag. Please?” I add, sensing she’s about to object and desperate for her not to.
