Page 44 of Pucking Dirty

She never should have been put in that position, and I'm pissed that she was. I should have talked to Coach weeks ago, told him that I'm crazy about his daughter. Instead, I've let her stress and worry and carry it until it came to this.

I think some part of her broke this morning.

And I'm not fucking there to put her back together again.

My arms ache for her. My goddamn heart hurts for her.

I need to talk to Coach, explain this shit. She may not have been able to say anything this morning, but he knows the truth. I know he knows. And it's going to break her heart into little pieces if he follows through on his threat and sends me to Pennsylvania.

"If you want to talk…"

"I don't," I growl, shooting a hard look at Archer.

He sighs, shaking his head. "Then I'll do you the favor of getting out of your face," he says, hauling himself to his feet before grabbing his bag and his gear. And then he pauses, glancing back over at me. "Coach is always the last off the plane. He does a walk-through before he deplanes."

I inhale a sharp breath, gratitude pulsing in my chest. "Fuck. Thanks."

He jerks his chin in a nod before disappearing up the aisle.

I stay in my seat, my foot tapping restlessly against the floor as my teammates take their sweet time getting their shit togetherand getting off the plane. They're loud as fuck, fraying my nerves.

But within a few minutes, they're off the plane, leaving me in silence.

Coach appears at the head of the aisle a few minutes later, scanning. His face drops into a scowl when it lands on me. "Off the plane, Whatley," he barks.

"Can't do it, Coach."

"Son of a bitch." He charges down the aisle toward my seat, looking like he's brewing for a fight. Christ, I hope it doesn't come down to that. "I said off the plane, Whatley."

"I'm in love with your daughter, sir."

Coach grunts, his jaw pulsing.

"I should have told you that weeks ago."

"Yeah, you should have, kid." He leans against the seat across the aisle, his arms crossed. "But you didn't. I expected that shit from Emilia. She's always been too afraid of what I thought, but you?" He narrows his eyes on me, disappointment rolling through them. "Didn't expect a member of my team to be lying to me, Whatley."

"And I didn't expect my coach to threaten to make an example of me," I say, holding his gaze levelly. "Keeping our relationship from you was fucked up. I won't deny that. But you don't really have a moral high ground here, sir."

"She's my daughter, Whatley," he grits out.

"And she's the reasonI breathe," I growl, gripping the arms of the chair. "You have no idea how I feel about her, and that's on me. But it's on you, too. She's spent her whole life worried she ruined your career. The last thing she wanted was to ruin mine too. And the first thing you did was give her a reason to fear that exact thing happening if we told you the truth. She's agonized over you finding out because she didn't want to be the reason I got booted from the team."

"Jesus Christ," Coach mutters.

"I should have put an end to that weeks ago," I mutter. "I'll own that. I thought I was doing right by her by giving her the choice, but I was fucking it all up the entire time. She needed me to step up, and I failed her." I hold his gaze, not mincing words. If he wants to boot me from the team, I can't stop him. But at least I'll go having defended her the way she deserves. The way I should have weeks ago. "But you failed her too. She doesn't need you giving her something to fear. She doesn't need you making choices for her. She needs you to trust her enough to make choices for herself. You raised her to be that woman, Lariat. And believe me, the woman you raised is fucking incredible."

"And you think you're a good choice for her, Whatley?" he asks. "You're on the road half the season. Is that really the life you want for her? For your kids? Leaving them behind?"

"It's the lifeshewants," I say quietly. "I don't know if that'll change when we have kids. But I know the choice should be hers because it'sherlife."

"And if it changes? If she decides that having you gone all the time is too much for her? What then?" he asks. "You break her heart when you decide that you're not willing to give it up for her and your kids?"

"No," I say quietly, not really surprised that's what he thinks of me. It's the choice most players make. It's why so many goddamn marriages end in divorce in professional sports. This life isn't easy, especially when kids are involved. But I'm a whole helluva lot more like him than I've ever been like them. I've been in his shoes once. I raised a sister while playing this sport. I know what it mean to put someone else ahead of this game because their needs came first. And if he thinks I wouldn't make the same choice for Emilia and our kids that I'd have made for Aspen in a heartbeat, he doesn't know a goddamn thing about me. Putting Emilia first isn't even a question. She's my world.

"If she ever changes her mind and decides this life is too much, I walk away, and I don't regret a single goddamn second of it."

Surprise flares in his hazel eyes, as if he didn't expect that answer.

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