Page 57 of Look What You Made Me Do

Just because she’d felt some feeble connection with him back then didn’t mean he had. Just because the kiss he’d given her that night at homecoming had meant something to her, didn’t mean it had meant anything to him.

Maybe that’s what was making her so mad?

Could the lips that had touched hers so gently, so tentatively at homecoming, really have touched Rachel’s first? Had she tutored him in how women liked to be kissed? Where they liked to be touched? All their secret places? Did she have her mother to thank for Jake’s prowess as a lover?

Ella shuddered just thinking about it.

She must have looked a fright when he faced her again because the hard mask of his face softened and he took a step toward her. “Ella.”

The thought of him touching her right now was too much to bear and Ella took a step back. “Just leave the money on the table on your way out, Jake.”

His eyes widened for a second then the mask was back. He was gone five seconds later, the door slamming with such finality on his way out.

Jake watched the Demons do drills on Wednesday afternoon. He’d been working them hard all week, having brought them down from the high of their win with brutal honesty on Monday morning. He’d hammered into them that the comp would only get harder and he and Pete had made the team watch the video from the game several times, pointing out each player’s weaknesses and strengths and replaying their errors ad nauseam.

Then they’d spent all week running endless drills targeting specific areas.

The fact that he’d been pissed since storming out of Ella’s house on Sunday had certainly kept the fire burning in his gut and he’d replayed that conversation over and over. Replayed that moment she’d looked at him and everything had gone from warm and loose to cold and tight.

She’d seriously thought he’d slept with her mother.

The solution had been an easy fix, of course. Just sit her down and make her see. Explain how he knew about the vases. Because he had wanted to – despite her horrible accusations. He could see how she could have leaped to that conclusion and he’d wanted to comfort her with the truth.

She’d looked so disheveled and almost fragile, standing there in his jersey, hugging herself so tight. But her words hadn’t been fragile. They’d bludgeoned. Particularly her parting shot and anger and pride had kept his mouth firmly shut.

Sure, Jake had been subjected to people’s insults his entire career. He’d expected it on the field. He’d expected it from the press and the paparazzi and the social media trolls. He hadn’t expected it from her.

Not after that incredible night.

In one sentence she’d sullied everything that had happened between them and he’d been so damn furious with her, getting the hell out had been his only option. And, five days later, the bitter lump of injustice lodged high and hard in his throat was showing no signs of dissolving.

So… they’d fucked like they were made for each other. Sex he could get – with uncomplicated women. Women who wanted to say they’d screwed the famed Founders’ tight end and didn’t give a shit about the one-horse town he’d grown up in nor who he’d bedded – or had not – while he lived there.

When he’d calmed down enough, he’d go set her straight. But that wasn’t today. The way he was feeling right now, it wouldn’t be tomorrow either. And besides, he was the coach and she was the principal. It was a line they should never have crossed anyway. Professional boundaries and all that crap.

Oh, and he was backward, right?

Why did he even care what a woman who considered him a backward step thought?

He tracked Cameron around the field for a bit as he worked on his passing. The boy had loads of stamina, but he was a ball hogger, relying on his bulk to bust through the opposition’s front line instead of using his brains and his team members.

He watched some of the other guys working with Pete on their tackling. They needed some training machines. Deluca High had no equipment and no budget to buy any. The Demons’ training sessions seemed archaic compared to the high-tech sessions during his professional career.

It put them at a disadvantage and, God knew, they were already handicapped enough.

“Pass the goddamned ball, Cameron,” he shouted from the sidelines.

He made a mental note to start getting some basic stuff. What the hell else was he going to do with all his money? The teams they were up against had equipment, top-class equipment. Not that he really thought they’d make it to the playoffs. But if they won enough games they might be invited to play Chiswick Academy and they sure as shit had every bit of whizz bang training tech on the market.

If Ella wanted him to save her school, then he needed the right tools.

“Jake!”

Jake turned to find Miranda bounding along the sideline with all her usual indefatigable vigor. Honestly, if he hadn’t seen her feet as she’d emerged into the world fifteen years ago, he’d swear she’d been born with springs instead.

She enveloped him in her trademark enthusiastic hug as Trish brought up the rear. “Miranda. Stop it. You know you’re not supposed to hug Jake at school.”

Jake grinned at Trish, an older version of her daughter, her step still springy despite the march of time. He kissed her on the cheek and they chatted briefly about the debut game before Miranda spat out what it was that had her shifting from foot to foot like a Cocker Spaniel on speed.

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