Page 29 of The Problem with Players

His smile stretched. “Just admit it…I’m growing on you.”

“Like an annoying wart I want surgically removed. I’m almost shocked at how easy it is for me to dislike you. You might be a great coach, but you’re still a bad person.”

“You have no idea who I am,” he stated. “You haven’t even given me a chance to show you who I am.”

I was going to responde with a sarcastic reply, but a somberness hit his stare. For some reason, I felt a bit guilty for my coldness toward him. It looked as if my words struck a chord, andhis truths slipped through his stare. I stood there for a moment, wanting to decipher what that stare meant. I knew I’d been giving Nathan a lot of crap over the past few weeks, but that was the first time it seemed that my words affected him.

Before, it felt as if he was playing along. As if we had a playful game of “I hate you, Nathan Pierce” going on. Normally, he’d shoot back a witty comment at me, but at that moment, his lack of comebacks, paired with his pained expression, left me feeling…bad.

He cleared his throat and nodded once toward me. “Night, Coach,” he said, walking off toward the building.

“Nathan,” I called out.

He looked over his shoulder and arched a brow. “Yeah?”

“You did great,” I told him. “With Jackson. With all the guys. You’re a great coach.”

His serious stare remained. “Do you really think I’m a bad person?”

Yes.

No.

Maybe.

I don’t know.

Ever since Nathan reappeared in my life, I felt more confused than ever before.

My lips parted, and he shook his head. “Don’t answer that,” he told me. “I forgot about your rules. We don’t get personal.” He turned away from me and continued his way to his car, leaving me with a guilty conscience.

Maybe one day you should stop being such a jerk, Avery.

Did I hold some resentment toward him from our past? Yes. But were we still those thoughtless, young, stupid kids who fell in love? Not in the slightest.

When I got home after practice, Wesley was nowhere to be found. That was odd because he was normally home well before me unless he worked late. Whenever he worked late,he’d text me, though, and let me know. A sudden panic hit my stomach as I tried to call him. Unfortunately, his phone went straight to voicemail, showing me it was not on.

I had dinner on the table waiting for him, and by the time it got cold, I tossed it into the fridge. As panic rose with every passing moment, I thought about calling the local hospital and the hospitals in Chicago to make sure he wasn’t involved in an accident.

My mind began to think the worst. Ever since I was a little girl, I had an unnatural fear of something happening to the people I cared about the most. After Mama passed away, I’d become so paranoid about the safety of my sisters and father. I remembered that whenever Daddy would be gone during storms, I’d sit at the window and stare outside until I saw the headlights of his car pull up. Whenever Willow would go on one of her travel adventures, I’d obsessively check in to make sure she was all right. When Yara had a health scare at the start of her pregnancy, I didn’t sleep for days, thinking each night I’d wake up with a text message saying something went wrong with her or the baby.

Paranoia was strong within me when it came to my loved ones and their well-being. I couldn’t count the number of sleepless nights I’d lived as I set up with a worrisome mind. And now Wesley being missing in action was only feeding into that fear of mine.

When I heard a car pull into our driveway, I darted over to my front door to make sure he was okay. To my surprise, I saw him climbing out of the passenger seat of a BMW. Out of the driver’s seat came Drew.

What was she doing here?

She tossed her head back, laughing at something Wesley said as he held leftover food containers in his hands. He laughed just as hard as her, going as far as to snort out a chuckle.

Within seconds, my worry turned into rage. A simmering rage that I had to push down as they both approached the front porch.

The moment Wesley’s eyes found mine, his smile stretched. “Hey, sweetheart.” He walked up the steps and kissed my cheek. “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” I whisper-shouted, stunned by his nonchalant approach. “Where have you been? What is she doing here?”

I could’ve said it more nicely, but I didn’t see a reason to be nice at that moment. I’d spent the past few hours thinking my fiancé was dead in a ditch, only to find him rolling out of a car with his best woman—who was still his ex-girlfriend, by the way—laughing and giggling together.

He narrowed his confused eyes. “I thought I told you she and her work colleagues were coming into Chicago to present my boss with a presentation over the next two weeks.”

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