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Instead of pulling away, he buries his head further into my chest and I realize it’s as close to an admission or an apology as I’m going to get.

Far too soon, he sits up out of my embrace and stands, stretching his arms above his head in a way that lets me admire every taut inch of his torso. Then, he extends a hand to pull me up.

“Thanks,” he says, meeting my eye briefly before walking over to a cupboard and pulling out a white Franklin West t-shirt.

I fold my arms across my chest, unable to stop a smirk from curving my lips. “For fucking your brains out, or the coffee?”

His lips quirk into a smile, but before I can appreciate it, he turns and pulls the shirt on over his head. “Thanks for offering to hold the fort with the team. I’m going to go speak to Drew now and hopefully get on a flight today.”

I press my lips together, stooping to pick up the coffee cups from the floor and placing them on his desk. “No problem. If you need anything, just let me know. Okay?”

He nods, pretending to fuss with the drawstring on his sweats, and I head to the door. It feels wrong leaving without so much as hug. I’m not really one for hookups, but as I watch him poking at the tablet he’s switched on, the blue light illuminating his tense features, I know it’s less about me and more about the fact that he’s barely holding himself together. There’s not much I can do, though, when he’s determined to make himself an island. Holding in my sigh, I open the door and leave.

DOUG

I stay standing, pulling my passport from the locked drawer in my desk, to book my flight back to Manchester. There’s a good chance I won’t be sitting down for a few hours.Fuck.I reach back into the drawer and pull out a small bottle of whiskey. Yeah, yeah. I’m the irresponsible staff member who has alcohol in his office. I doubt anyone would be shocked.

Besides, it’s only for emergencies. Like when one of the students you definitely shouldn’t be messing around with breaks things off with you, or you let the assistant coach fuck your virgin ass on your office floor. I wince, my eyes screwing shut as I inhale through my nose. It’s not like I get drunk at work. This bottle’s been in there since the end of last season. It’s just that sometimes, the king of bad decisions needs something to take the edge off.

Unscrewing the cap, I take a gulp, wincing. My fingers drift to my chin and I cringe. There’s definitely a bit of carpet burn there. Luckily my beard will hide most of it.

I hadn’t meant for that to happen. I was just so lost in sadness and guilt, and he wouldn’t fucking leave. Closing my eyes, I draw in a shaky breath. When Masters had put his arm around me, it caught me completely off guard. It had felt so fucking nice. And he’d smelled so good.

I knew he’d do it, too. He’s right. He is a nice guy. I could tell he was hesitant because I was upset, but at the end of the day he knew I wanted it—needed it—so he gave me what I asked. The only thing that makes a pity fuck bearable is the layer of hate that lies on top of it. There was nothing tender about the way he fucked me into the carpet, and I know each harsh thrust was payback for the snide remarks and digs I’ve given him since September. And fuck, did I enjoy it.

The initial burn and stretch had hurt like a bitch, but then it had been mind-blowing. Probably more so because he prepped me first. I wanted the pain, but now I’m grateful he insisted. Even if it still was nowhere near enough. But that’s on me. I didn’t tell him he’s the first person to fuck me like that. And I have no plans on him finding out any time soon. Like ever.

Holding my passport open with one hand, I take another swig of whiskey before typing in my details and booking myself on a flight tonight. I know Drew will let me go. Especially now we’ve got Masters to look after things in my absence. Even so, I’m more of an ask for forgiveness than ask for permission kind of guy.

I lift the bottle for another sip when my iPad pings with a notification. Frowning, I squint at the box that’s popped up in the corner of my screen. It’s a calendar alert for a meeting. It takes me a second to process that the start time of nine a.m. is in five minutes. How the hell is it only nine?

Cursing under my breath, I screw the lid back on the whiskey and grab the remote for the blinds. I only lift the poolside ones, usually preferring the way the light bounces off the water and gives my office a beachy feel. This time, however, after hiding in the dark for the past couple of hours, it’s harsh as fuck on my eyes and I hiss and slam my arm up to shield my face.

Still grumbling, I pull out my desk chair and sit down, immediately regretting the decision as I wince, cursing. Still scowling, I click on the alert. Dread settles in my gut as I skim over the information, then immediately read it again.

Meeting: HR Matter – URGENT

Invited Invitees: Elizabeth West, Megan Colton, Doug McMann

Time: 9am Wednesday April 18

Confirmed Attendees: Elizabeth West, Megan Colton

Unconfirmed Attendees: Doug McMann

Pushing my hand through my hair, I read it over twice. I have no recollection of being invited to this meeting. I never have meetings. Hell, they hired an assistant coach without so much as an email. Not one that I read, anyway.Oh. Shit.Did they email?

Clicking out of the notification, I pull up my emails, grimacing at the number of unread messages. It takes me a second before I find Anika Prothero’s name, Elizabeth West’s secretary. My stomach churns as I tap my finger on the email.

Dear Coach McMann,

Dr. Elizabeth West would like to meet with you this Wednesday to discuss a sensitive matter. Megan Colton, HR Manager, will also be present.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Anika Prothero

PA to Dr. Elizabeth West (President)

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