Page 8 of The Thing About My Rival

I swing it open, but turn at the sound of more key-jingling behind me.

Chase is holding up another set and flashing his dazzling white Hollywood smile at Wilcox.

Her mouth drops open in slow motion as her eyes flick from Chase to the other three guys in turn. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly.” Chase tosses the keys to her, and she catches them with one hand.

“Yup,” Leo says. “You were right about your contract. And since Hugo’s agent had also driven a hard bargain, it would cost us more to get rid of one of you than it would to keep you both till the end of the season.”

Am I hearing things? Am I understanding correctly? Has everyone lost their fucking minds? “I’m sorry,what?”

Wilcox stares at the keys in her hand as if they are an ancient relic that could crumble to dust any second.

“Two coaches,” Prince Oliver says. “We didn’t need to decide. We get to keep both of you. Two has to be better than one, right?”

You’d think. But not if one of them is her.

It’s like telling a kid they can eat their entire chocolate birthday cake themselves, then, just as they’re about to take their first bite, switching it for a pile of overcooked brussels sprouts.

No fucking way. I’m not staying here under these circumstances.

I yank the key from the lock. “Well, in that case I have to?—”

But I can’t walk.

Where would I go? What would I do?

These guys have been the only ones willing to take a chance on me. This is my one opportunity to get back into football—the only thing I know, the only thing I love, the thing that courses through my veins and beats in my soul.

And my one opportunity to show the world that I can coach as well as I played. And then hopefully an English club will decide to overlook all that off-the-pitch crap and give me a job so I can go home.

I need this. Desperately.

“I have to…” I try to come up with another way to finish that sentence, but my jaw’s so tight I can barely get the words out. “I have to…congratulate Coach Wilcox,” I dredge up from somewhere deep in my dark, disbelieving core.

“So you guys will work together until the end of theseason when your contracts run out,” Leo says. “Then we’ll decide who stays on next year.”

Fuck, it really is like a reality show.Coach Idol.

“Thank you.” Wilcox’s voice is soft as she finally lifts her watery gaze from the keys and looks along the line of our four new bosses. “Thank you all for the opportunity.”

“And it’s great PR,” Miller says. “I don’t think any MLS team has ever had co-head coaches before. At least none that my quick search last night could find. So it’s a great story.”

“And one of them is female,” Leo adds. “That’s definitely a first.”

“Yeah.” The prince nudges me. “And a great opportunity to show those arsehole reporters you can be around a woman every day and not sleep with her.”

My eyes instinctively dart to Wilcox and accidentally fix on hers.

There’s that flash of familiarity again. I swear to God, I’ve met her somewhere before yesterday.

“Yeah, you can rein him in for us,” Chase says.

“Tame him,” Leo adds.

She takes a deep breath and sucks on her lips.

I might have spent only a matter of minutes in her presence, but I’m pretty sure she’s trying to stop herself from telling them that I am not her problem.

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