Page 104 of Runaway Bride and Prejudice

“I don’t?—”

“Paypal? I don’t like the fees, but I can do that as well.”

“I don’t need your money.” The words come out a whole lot sharper than I intended. “It was nothing.”

My time with Mills was the furthest thing from nothing. It’s the something equivalent of Mount Everest.

Coach eyes me warily, but he does slip his wallet back in his pocket. “We’re good, then?”

I know what he’s asking without asking—if I’m fine having my spot back in exchange for going to Florida with Amelia. An ugly ache moves through me. I especially don’t want my spot, not when I don’t deserve it. Not when Coach thinks I did him a favor.

Nothing I did with Amelia was to earn back my spot. Not a single thing.

But when I try to tell him that, I find my throat having some kind of spasm.

The whole situation is made more difficult by the fact that this weird deal he struck makes me respect him less. And I’ve always held him in high regard—even if my way of showing it is by being the token troublemaker. The man with the mouth.

But what he asked of me and what he was willing to trade—it makes me uncomfortable. I guess we all have weaknesses and blind spots. And Coach’s weakness is clearly Amelia.

Apparently, it’s a weakness we share.

“You spent four days with my daughter. Making sure she was okay, keeping her safe. And after a particularly difficult time.”

His jaw clenches, and I wonder if he’s thinking about his brother and his niece. Or Douche the Groom. All extra reasons for his problematic choices of late.

I want to argue. To tell Coach to give my spot back to Dominik. To confess that I didn’t go to Florida because of some deal, butonlybecause of Amelia.

I want to say I wish I’d never answered his call at the airport and simply gotten on the plane with Amelia as I already planned to do all on my own.

I’m afraid if I open my mouth, the secrets will start spilling like an oil leak, leaving everything polluted and toxic. Starting with my career.

Or—depending on how mad Coach is—my face.

And I happen to like both my careerandmy face.

Or—Idid.

Now, things feel off. I’m off. Ever since Florida, it feels like I’ve been shrink-wrapped inside my life. I can't move my arms or breathe, but there’s a bright yellow sticker slapped on the outside of the package saying,Doing just fine, Thank you!

“How do you think she's doing?” Coach asks, his voice quieter now.

I wouldn't have the first clue. Because today is the first time I’ve seen her in almost two weeks, and it’s not like I really got to know her in the time we spent together. I thought I did.

But I was wrong.

I scratch my cheek, where I either cut myself shaving or have an ingrown hair. Either one would be par for the course. “I mean, she seemed ... good while we were on the trip. We haven’t talked much since we got back.”

Muchseems like a nice, vague qualifier. If I say we haven’t spoken at all, he might ask why.

“Really?” He cocks his head. “Did you not get along?”

I’m starting to sweat again. “We had a good time. She's a pretty, um, incredible woman.”

See? That's not so hard. I can say lots of true things without telling him everything.

Ameliaisincredible.

Coach Davis just stares. Like he’s waiting.

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