Page 34 of Stalked By the Assistant Coach

“Man, they give you a bunch of these or something?” I teased, and he rolled his eyes.

“Just take it, in case you change your mind or if you think of a way to help me out.”

“Look… you should save that one.” I pointed at the business card. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only guy in this century still handing these fuckers out. You’ve handed me over ten of them since I started working here. Save that one and drop it into a free lunch giveaway at a diner or something.”

“Cute. Whatever.” He grabbed his jacket, and his hands reached into his pockets. There was an air of defeat radiating from the guy that made me want to toss him a bone.

Jesus, love had really changed me. Usually, seeing Andres pissed or disillusioned gave me joy.

“I’m not trying to be a dick. I’m just saying I got your card, and I won’t be calling you. Not for Dominguez.”

“You have anyone in mind?” He looked like I had just given him some kind of hope.

“Maybe.” I shrugged and rubbed the back of my neck.

I knew better than mentioning shit without talking to Ryan about it, but we’d been on different schedules lately, always missing one another. And when it came to our way of thinking, Goodwin and I were usually on the same wavelength. I trusted my gut about mentioning the player to Andres.

“Our kicker is pretty fucking great, and he’s graduating this year along with Betty.”

“Hmm…”

“Just saying. I listened to a podcast that mentioned Foley is thinking about retiring.” Their current kicker was not only underrated and underpaid, but he was being looked at by their rival for a coaching position.

“Foley.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll think about it. Thanks for the tip.” I nodded. He turned before I called out his name, and he stopped.

“Just so you know, it might be the water.” I pointed at the half empty bottle in his hand. “We bottle those here, so be careful,” I teased. Montoya flipped me the bird before walking out of the office.

Five minutes later, I did the same.

My drive to my place was quick. I had planned on getting rid of the shit in the guest room. I hated the idea of tossing everything out or burning it. I had a plan. I was going to box everything up and put it into storage. A place of my own I could go back to and rifle through the boxes when I needed an extra hit of Kaitlyn.

Being long distance sucked.

It’d only been two weeks since I held her in my arms, but fuck me, I was over it. Hopefully, I’d knock her up soon and would talk her into moving in with me. I put my truck in Park, and when I glanced at the front door, fear prickled at the base of my neck.

Kait was sitting at the front stoop, and it was obvious something was wrong.

Fuck, did she go in?

Does she know?

Had she found the room and all the sick secrets I hid from her?

Did she find all the things I’d stolen from her place? Clothes and panties I’d covered in my cum after jerking off to her? I slipped out of my truck and hurried toward her, trying to sweep away the unsteady fear flowing within my veins.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” I asked. I didn’t like the way her eyes didn’t smile up at me. She simply chewed on her bottom lip, and I felt my brows bunch together.

“Kait? Bug, what’s the matter?” I tried to keep my heart rate calm, but it was fucking impossible. Anxiety and terror started to swirl in my blood.

Something was wrong, and I had a bad feeling she knew.

CHAPTER 11

RED

“I should have called,” she said, but when her eyes didn’t meet mine, an ugly feeling sunk heavier in my gut.

“You never have to call,” I croaked before clearing my throat. “You’re always welcome here, bug.” This was her fucking home after all.