Page 80 of Beautifully Devoted

“Because you said intimate video,” I hiss at him.

“Kissing is intimate.” Jagger shrugs, but since his leg is moving even faster now, I know he’s about at his breaking point.

“Anyhow.” I turn back to Coach. “He wanted to out us, but we’re not trying to stay in the closet, so we ignored it. This must be his next move.”

Coach’s face is completely blank, like there’s zero going through his head. I don’t know if it’s the photo threat, the fact Jagger and I are dating, or mention of sex tapes that has him speechless, so I just keep going.

“We were thinking about getting a restraining order, but that was before he sent this. Maybe they can arrest him for making threats or something?”

Coach looks at the picture and the note again before speaking. “There’s nothing here that proves who made the threat.” He holds up a hand to stop the objections he must sense coming. “I’m not saying it wasn’t Jagger’s dad, just that we can’t prove it. Not unless we can tie him to the courier, and even then, I’m not sure the police can do anything about it.”

“That’s bullshit,” Jagger pops up from his chair and starts pacing back and forth. “We can’t just wait around for my dad to come after Cam.”

“Do you think he would, or is he just trying to scare you?” Coach asks Jagger.

“Hell if I know.” Jagger throws his arms up. “Until yesterday I hadn’t seen him in ten years. Also until yesterday, I didn’t know he’s not just a deadbeat but a criminal. I don’t know the man anymore. I have no idea what he’ll do.” He stops his pacing and looks at me, green eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I can’t risk anything happening to you, Camelot. I’ll just give him what he wants.”

Jagger never lets anyone but me see this vulnerable side of him, so if it’s making an appearance in front of Coach, he’s obviously terrified. For me. And while I’m a little uneasy about the prospect of being threatened, for Jagger’s sake I’ll pretend it doesn’t bother me.

“He’s not going to hurt me, Kitcat. And you’re not going to pay him either, otherwise he’ll never stop coming after you with these demands.”

Jagger opens his mouth to protest, but nothing comes out, like his voice is frozen. Actually, his whole body looks frozen as he stands there gaping at me, so I jump up and wrap my arms around him, holding him to me as his breath comes in ragged spurts. I’m pretty sure he mumbles can’t lose you over and over again against my chest, but it’s so muffled I’m not positive that’s what he’s saying. I’m even less positive he realizes he saying anything at all.

I’ve seen Jagger wrestle with the emotions of being abandoned, but that usually manifests in feelings of inadequacy. Sometimes even worry or guilt that he’s repeating his dad’s mistakes. This is different. This is genuine fear, and I don’t know how to fix it.

“It’s okay,” I whisper as I tighten my hold. “It’s okay.”

I’m not sure how long we stay like that, wrapped in each other’s arms in the middle of Coach’s office, before I realize Coach isn’t there anymore. It can’t have been too long, since the clock shows that practice just started, but the fact he slipped out without either of us noticing has me a little concerned. That couldn’t have happened unless I was fully consumed with Jagger, and I wouldn’t have been fully consumed with Jagger unless he was in a really bad state.

I rub my hand up and down his back, noting that his breathing seems to have leveled out. Hopefully that’s a good sign.

Pulling away slightly, I tip his chin up to see his tear-stained face, wondering briefly how he can still be so stunning when he’s clearly distressed. Then I press my lips to his. “Better?”

“No.” He sniffs. “My dad wants to hurt you, and it’s my fault.”

“How is this your fault?”

“He wouldn’t have any reason to think I have fifty grand if I wasn’t signing NIL deals and hocking products all over social media.”

Stroking his brow to take away the frown lines, I say, “Bullshit. He doesn’t know how much those deals are worth.”

“He could find out. It’s probably public record.”

“Kitcat, no offense, but that’s way too much effort for your dad to put in to make a quick buck. He’s the laziest fucker on the planet. You think a guy who sleeps with people to get a free meal would go searching through public documents to find out how much money you have?”

Though I’m only trying to placate Jagger, I realize how true those words are once they’re out of my mouth. We’re getting worked up about a guy who’s probably grasping at straws, and while it got me good there for a bit, the more logic I apply to the situation the more I feel like I’m onto something.

“Where’d he come up with fifty grand then? It’s not an unreasonable figure.”

Granted, my boyfriend probably has several hundred thousand, but he saves it rather than flaunting it, so on the surface fifty grand is a big number.

“I wondered that too the first time he rattled it off. I’m guessing he either overheard someone else speculating about what NIL deals are worth, or he started high figuring you’d negotiate, and he’d land at something like fifteen or twenty.”

“Still, he wouldn’t be harassing us if I wasn’t building up my profile online.” Jagger looks so forlorn I can’t help hugging him to me again.

“Yeah, he would, Kitcat.” I massage his head, using his silky hair to calm my own nerves in the process. “He’d just be doing it a few years from now when you’re in the NFL.”

“Maybe.” Jagger wraps his arms around my waist, nuzzling closer. “Either way, he hasn’t given up. You’re still in danger.”

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