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Beiler met with me and my advisor. While I am not required to take any additional classes to be considered for a coaching position, Beiler was somehow able to convince the university to pay for several sports management classes, so I am betterequipped to help the players navigate their athletic careers. I’m so fucking excited, the possibilities are overwhelming when I start hyper-focusing on the big picture. Edee has been a godsend, keeping me on track and taking it all one day at a time.

I decide to take the stairs up to the third floor, too much extra energy for me to stand still in an elevator. I don’t want to maul her the second I see her…I should at least ask how her day has been first. That’s the gentlemanly thing to do.ThenI’ll jump her and bury my face between those thick thighs I’ve been dreaming about.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath when the communal bathroom door opens and Edee’s roommate Shaye exits, wearing only a towel and sandals, her shower caddy in her hand, her hair in a bun on the top of her head. I guess it was only a matter of time before our good luck ran out. We’ve managed to time our visits to avoid Shaye and her unpleasantness most of the time. It helps the girl seems hell bent on obtaining a MRS degree rather than any actual education.

She’s a whore.

Now, don’t get all upset. I’m not a bad guy; I just happen to be a guy with eyes and a working brain cell or two. Plus, Edee said it first, so yell at her.

I know the moment she spots me, her entire demeanor changes. Her back arches slightly, thrusting her tits out, testing the strength of that knot she’s tied to hold up her towel. A slow, manipulative smile forms, a calculated gleam in her eyes. Here we go. “Tyrone!” she simpers, and I roll my eyes, not caring in the least that she sees me do it. “Handsome, what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see my girlfriend.” She scowls briefly, before plastering that flirtatious smile back on her face. She’s a prettygirl, but ugly inside. Probably has massive trauma from a messed-up childhood, seeking validation in the arms of men who will never love her just like her own father.

I paid way more attention in psychology than I thought.

“Don’t say ‘girlfriend’, Tyrone. It sounds so…”

“Permanent,” I finish for her. “It’ll be fiancé soon enough.”

“You wouldn’t?” she gasps, shaking her head. “No. She’s not WAG material, you need someone better, thinner, prettie—”

“Shut the fuck up, Shaye.” I don’t raise my voice, but there is heat in my tone. “You remember I don’t play anymore, right? No need to worry about WAGs.”

“Not playing, but as a coach—” My uproarious laughter has her snapping her mouth shut, her expression mutinous and it only makes me laugh harder. She takes a deep breath, her hand on the doorknob of their room, smoothing out her Bitter Bitch Face. “Ty, I know what you need, I’ll show you. I’ll take good care of you.” She opens the door with one hand, still facing me, and uses the other to undo the towel. It drops to the floor, but my eyes snap shut before I can see anything. I have no desire to see her naked, and I certainly don’t want Edee to think I do.

I’m a smart man.

“The fuck?” I say, but my eyes open against my will when I register, I’ve harmonized with another male voice. Edee is staring at the doorway with her jaw open, eyes alarmingly wide, arms outstretched. I barely notice Shaye turning around, as I take in the middle-aged couple standing next to Edee, bearing a striking resemblance to my woman. Her parents. Her father is a little taller than Edee, tanned white skin, dark brown hair. Her mother is a little shorter, her skin tone only slightly darker than Edee’s.

“I just…my towel…it slipped…I didn’t—” Shaye’s hands fly around willy-nilly as she flounders in her own embarrassment. Edee’s mom, I’m assuming, growls at Shaye, bending to pick up the towel. She wraps it around Shaye and frog marches the girl from the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

“Babe,” I decide to forget any of that ever happened and greet Edee. I use the knuckle of my index finger to push her mouth closed so I can kiss it. Arm around my shell-shocked girlfriend, I extend my hand toward her father. “Tyrone Wicawiil. It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

“Dennis Shingleton.”

“Father!” Edee exclaims. Loudly. “Sire. He sired me. With my mom. Mother. That was her.” She points a shaky finger at the door. “Surprise! They are visiting…without prior authorization. Unannounced. ISN’T THAT GREAT?!?” Her dad and I share a laugh, before I bring her fully into my chest and hold her while she processes everything from the last few minutes. Her voice is so tiny as she speaks into my sternum. “Why was she naked?”

“I’m gonna guess ‘cuz she’s a bitch,” her dad answers.

I nod, grinning at him over Edee’s head. “Pretty much.”

The door opens and Edee’s mom stands to the side of the doorway, ushering in a chagrined Shaye. She mumbles an apology, grabs some clothes, and runs out of the room like the hounds of hell are chasing her.

In the awkward moment of silence that follows her departure, Edee’s mom runs her dark gaze up and down my body, her lips pursed in displeasure. My balls squeak in fear and forcibly retreat into my body. I have not seen Edee angry or upset and if she is anything like her mother, I pray I never do.

First thing she ever says to me, “Have you started properly sorting your laundry? I can’t have my daughter attach herself to an idiot. That kind of thing binds to DNA. I won’t have idiots for grandchildren.”

My balls slowly begin to descend. I smile genuinely at the woman who birthed my girl. She’s not mean, she’s protective. “Mrs. Shingleton, it’s wonderful to meet you. Tyrone Wicawiil.” Edee refuses to budge, an adorable “uh-uh” escaping as her arms tighten painfully around my middle. I hold out my hand, but her mom grins, knocks my hand away, and wraps me in a hug…with her daughter sandwiched between us.

I’ve never really had a mother. My grandmother raised us, but she wasn’t what anyone would call motherly or nice. Mrs. Gillison, my guidance counselor’s wife, was the closest I’ve ever had. She was amazing, so kind and caring, but for all that she claimed me and Lyndell as her other children, there was a distance I could never allow myself to bridge.

Right now? Even with Edee between us, there is no distance at all. It is impossible to be near Mrs. Shingleton and not be drawn in.

“I’ve always properly sorted my laundry, ma’am. I just like to give my brother a hard time.”

“As you should. It is a younger sibling’s responsibility to keep their older siblings humble.” She releases us and steps back, plopping down on Edee’s bed. “Where is Lyndell? I have some questions about stain removal.”

I groan, my head falling back between my shoulders. “Please don’t. Once he starts, he won’t stop.”

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