Page 101 of A Whole New Play

“It was just practice,” I grunt, then hiss when I shift and the water splashes my abs. Ice baths are the fucking worst.

“You’re going to have to submerge yourself, Carter,” the trainer, Gina, tells me as she walks past.

“I’m working up to it,” I tell the middle-aged woman who looks like she could give me a run for my money in a weightlifting contest.

“The sooner you get it over with, the sooner you get out of the bath,” she says before walking away to check on another player doing PT with exercise bands across the room.

I squeeze my eyes closed and exhale, mentally preparing myself to dip into the frigid water when Deon’s voice interrupts, “Seriously, Carter. You seem uptight. Maybe you and your nanny need more time between the sheets to release some tension, if you know what I mean.”

“Fuck off, man.” It might have taken a couple of weeks, but news of my relationship has finally made it through the entire locker room, including players, training staff, and coaches.

Deon laughs.

I ignore him and suck in a breath before dipping down into the freezing water. I spew a string of curses. Only half of them are elicited by the painfully cold bath.

It’s been a shitty past couple of days. I’ve done my best to hide it from Valerie and the twins. Not only because I don’t want my bad mood to rub off on them, but because I want to avoid admitting the reason for my foul mood.

Davis hasn’t admitted it to me yet, but the custody case has become more complicated. How could it not? More and more stories about it are popping up on various news outlets each day.

Some are undoubtedly fueled by the news of my new relationship, but I know Laura is behind some of them as well. There’s too much private information being shared for her not to be responsible.

Davis has reassured me that his colleagues are on it and preparing to include rebuttals and rebuffs against Laura for going to the press. He tries to sound confident things are going to go well, but I sense the underlying tension in his voice when he speaks to me lately. He chooses his words much more carefully. My lawyer is uneasy. And that makes me uneasy.

But that’s just one problem I’m dealing with.

I’m not proud to admit the other one.

Because it makes me feel like the most selfish asshole in existence.

“Jones.”

Water sloshes over the edge of the metal basin when I jolt.

Coach Palmer stands in the training room doorway. His features are hard. His expression is unreadable. “Get dressed and meet me in my office.” He stomps away without waiting for a response.

Valerie’s dad hasn’t spoken to me unless required ever since he confronted us in my driveway. The fact he summons me now, after my shitty performance at practice, makes me nervous.

Deon whistles low. “Damn man. That doesn’t sound good. I’ve never heard Coach P sound so cold.”

“He’s probably pissed because Jones is banging his daughter,” Brody, the second-round draft pick chimes from the bath on the other side of Deon.

Both men chuckle.

Assholes.

I splash the frigid water in their direction. It only serves to make them laugh harder.

I shake my head and climb out of the water, wrapping a thick white towel around my waist before draping another one over my shoulders.

I take my time getting dressed, but I’m standing outside Coach Palmer’s office too soon.

Man up, Jones. You aren’t a coward.

He might not approve of my relationship with Valerie, but I’m determined to change his mind. His worries are valid. Any dad who cares about his daughter would feel the same. He’ll need time before he’s convinced I’m good for his daughter. And I’m willing to wait.

I roll my shoulders back and knock.

“Come in.”

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