Page 28 of Dirty Pucking Player

Thank God.

I’m fucking starving.

I crashed hard when I got back from the airport and slept straight through lunch and dinner. Maybe I’ll feel better once I get something else in my stomach besides expensive booze.

Unlikely.

But I push to my feet and make my way to the door. Pulling it open, my breath catches. This is definitely not room service.

A familiar set of haunting green eyes look back at me.

It takes me a moment to form words. “Um, Coach. What are you doing here?”

She looks almost scared as she stares up at me from under long, heavy black lashes, and she shifts nervously on her feet. “Hey, Bash. Can we…um…talk?”

Holy déjà vu of my visit to her room.

Only now, she’s the one who looks completely off-kilter.

But why?

I was expecting never to see her again after all that talk about being banished for the rest this season. All signs pointed toward her bending over backward to see that I was benched, but instead, Coach is standing here, looking at me in a whole new way.

Like I’m a human being.

What the hell is going on?

Standing here staring at her isn’t going to give me an answer, so I sweep my arm back, inviting her into my room. I may be pissed, but I’m not going to slam the door in her face. Mother taught me better manners than that. Plus, I want to know what could have possibly driven her to come here tonight.

She steps through the door hesitantly, her eyes scanning the suite. “Well, they sure put you up in a nice place.”

I shrug and let the door close. “Better than most of the places I’ve stayed. I should be looking for a permanent place to live, but honestly, I may just stay here. Room service and maids. It’s better than doing it all on my own in a house or condo.”

Coach twists her hands in front of her and avoids making eye-contact.

She’s nervous? That’s a first.

“What can I do for you, Coach? You come tell me about my suspension?”

It would be unusual not to hear from the GM or someone from the department, but maybe this is an unusual circumstance. Maybe she asked to be the one to deliver the shitty news because it would give her some sort of vindication.

She sighs and walks over to the row of windows that overlook the Strip. “No.” Her shoulders rise and fall as she sucks in a deep breath. “I came to apologize.”

I freeze and shake my head. The scotch must be fogging my brain. She didn’t just say that.

Did she?

Her soft, green eyes glance over at me like she’s waiting for a response.

Hell. Maybe she did say that.

I lean against the wall and try to figure out what her angle is here. Greer doesn’t seem to be the type of person to admit she’s wrong easily, and as far as I know, she has no reason to believe she was wrong in anything she’s done or said since I arrived. “Apologize for what?”

A long silence draws out after my question, and she stares off out the windows, the bright lights illuminating her in various colors and flashes. “For what I said last night. I didn’t know…”

She trails off.

Bile climbs my throat, and I swallow it back, unease creeping over my skin suddenly.

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