Page 17 of Trapped and Tackled

“Okay.” He nods. “They’re heading up the third Friday in August so if you can get a morning workout in, I’ll give you another day off.”

Two days off. My body nearly weeps at the thought of extra recovery time. “I’ll get the workout in.”

“I know you will,” Coach says.

“Um, does Leni know?” I ask.

Coach snorts before shaking his head. “No, not yet.”

“Is that going to be a problem?” I can’t imagine a woman being cool with her dad assigning her a chaperone for a weekend with her friends…but I don’t get most family bonds. I never had any that mattered. While a part of me thinks it’s ridiculous, a larger part thinks Coach’s concern is sweet. Caring. Loving.

“Probably,” Coach admits. “But I’ll handle Leni.”

I chuckle. “Maybe I can help.” I gesture toward his phone. “Give me Leni’s number. If you’re sending me away for a weekend with her, we should at least grab a burger and talk.”

Coach snaps his finger before pointing at me. “Great idea, Talon. Maybe tomorrow night? It can take some of the sting out when Vicki tells her you’re tagging along.”

I laugh. “Handling it, are you?”

Coach chuckles. “I’ll send you her number. Thanks for doing this; I really appreciate it. Hell, maybe a weekend at the lake will help her snap out of the fog she’s been in since she got home from New York. At this point, something’s gotta give.”

“Sure,” I agree, not really understanding what he’s talking about but knowing it doesn’t fully pertain to me. Coach is a stand-up guy and a hell of a coach. But as a parent, his girls have got him wrapped around their manicured fingers. “Anything else?”

“That’s it.”

I stand to go when he stops me.

“Miller?”

“Yeah?” I turn around, stalling by the door to his office.

“I appreciate this, and I know I can trust you.” His eyes harden and I work a swallow.

“Of course,” I manage to say.

“But don’t get any ideas. Leni doesn’t date football players.”

I dip my chin in understanding before I head out of his office.

And while I know it’s true—my teammates have said as much—it still stings knowing Coach includes me in that group. Because while I know Leni Strauss is lightyears out of my league, I hate that Coach knows it too.

Chapter 5

Leni

“A chaperone?!” I holler.

“Think of it like a buddy,” Dad says soothingly, his palms outstretched like he’s trying to calm a crazy, rabid wildebeest. Which, right now, is not too far off the mark.

“What is this, the eighteen hundreds?” I clap back.

“You haven’t been with this group in a long time,” Mom tries.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve known them all since high school. Hell, some of them since middle school. And I’m an adult. I’m twenty-four! I lived in Manhattan and took the subway and stayed out until sunrise just a year ago.” I wave my arms emphatically.

God, I’m angry. But also…it feels good—normal—to feel something other than…shame. Emptiness. So, I lean into my anger and brandish my hands once more for good measure.

“But now you’re back here,” Dad reminds me, the gentleness gone. “My house?—”

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