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Nope. I’m fucked. The second picture causes a bead of sweat to race down my back. I’m at the bar and Masters is kissing the fuck out of me. There’s no explaining my way out of that.

They’ve clearly been snapped by someone who wasn’t at the wedding. The angle too high, they look like the kind of pictures you see on crime shows, shot by some seedy private investigator with a telescopic lens.

My throat burns as I pick up the third and final picture. We’re on the dance floor and I’m cupping Aldo’s face as we kiss. It was such a fucking happy moment and now it’s going to be the reason I lose my job. Fucking typical. My grip tightens on the photo, and it crumples in my fist.

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that any sort of physical relationship with students is breaking your contract. Mr. Rossi and Miss Blake might be legally consenting adults, but they are here under our care. Underyourcare. By pursuing a physical relationship with them, you have failed in your duties as a member of our Franklin West team.”

Sweat beads at my temples, my hand trembling. This is it. This is where it all goes to fuck. I try to swallow, but my mouth is a desert, and I wince.

West leans forward on her forearms, peering at me over her glasses. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, Mr. McMann?”

The fact that she’s not calling me Coach doesn’t escape my attention and my stomach bottoms out. All I can do is shake my head, my gaze falling back to the crumpled photo in my fist.

“Then it is with great disappointment, I must inform you that you are relieved of your position as Coach, effective immediately.”

Nodding, I push back my chair, unable to look at anyone around the table.

The HR woman stands too, opening the door for me and turning to where Brad is still waiting. “Will you please escort Mr. McMann to his office to collect his things?”

I can’t bear to look at him, but I can hear the surprise in his voice as he agrees. My fingers tighten into fists as we head back down the corridor to the stairs, my blunt nails digging into my palms. I’m fucked. I’m actually fucked. Without this job, I have no way to pay rent.No. Forget rent. My sponsorship is linked to the college.

I could get a new job, but who the hell is going to hire a disgraced coach? No one. That’s who.Fuck.I’m going to have to go back to England. Tears burn in my eyes, frustration tightening my muscles, but I hold it in, sucking in aborted pants of air as we cross campus.

Brad stays silent, not attempting to press for information, and when we reach the gymnasium, I wrench open the glass doors, striding toward the small staircase to my office, and bark at him to stay outside.

As soon as I’m in my office, I lock the door and let my world implode. A scream of frustration tears from my lungs as I swipe everything off my desk onto the floor. I kick the filing cabinet so hard it dents, but it’s not enough, so I do it again and again until it falls to the floor with a crash.

“Doug?” Brad calls, banging on the door as he jiggles the handle. “Let me in!”

Tears burn down my face as I snarl, picking up my near empty coffee cup from earlier that morning and hurling at the wall. It shatters, leaving a spray of brown against the white paint, and I slump—my knees giving way as I slide to the ground like the sorry remnants of my drink.

I need to get out of here. It was stupid of me to allow myself to melt down in my office. Chances are the whole fucking team has heard the commotion from down in the pool.Shit.I can’t deal with Masters or the others right now.

My head spins as I get to my feet, swiping at my face with the back of my hand.

There’s fuck all in this office that I need or want.

Grabbing my sweatshirt from the back of my chair, I tug it on as I search the scattered papers and stationery on the floor for my phone and car keys. Then, dragging in a shaky breath, I unlock the door and stride past Brad, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Doug,” he calls out, but I’m not waiting.

Throwing my hood up, I shove my hands in my pockets and make a bee line for the exit. The gymnasium car park is empty at this time in the morning, with Masters’ and mine, the only cars. The blood roaring in my ears drowns out Brad’s shouts as I slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine.

It’s only when I take one last glance in the rearview that I spot Masters standing beside Brad, steadily growing smaller as I floor it down the winding road that leads out of campus. My gut twists, but I don’t slow down. I can’t.

Fumbling for my phone, vibrating already in my pocket, I switch it off without checking the caller ID. I need to get out of here before I make things worse. I fucked up. I warned them. I warned them and they didn’t listen. It’s over.

LANE

My eyes are wide, my breathing frantic as I watch Doug’s car disappear around the corner. What the hell? Pushing a hand through my hair, I turn to Brad, but he just shakes his head.

“He got told to clean out his office,” he says, giving me a pitying look.

My stomach flips. “What? Why?”

Brad shakes his head. “That’s above my pay grade, I’m afraid.”

More questions line up on my tongue, but he just grips my shoulder and squeezes before walking away. Clean out his office? I heard noise coming from up there—it’s why I left the pool in the first place—but before I got to the stairs, I saw Doug crossing the parking lot and chased after him.

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