CHAPTER 4 LINCOLN

I mean…yeah. I should've known better than to kiss her in the lobby. If not for Rivera, then because there are cameras all over the damn place in there.

But I'm nothing more than a weak man who gave into the temptation that's been dangling in front of me since I got to town.

Truth be told, I want so much more than a kiss.

The first thing that hit me when she said some douchebag threatened to expose our kiss was this surge of protectiveness. I wanted to find him and murder him. Maybe not literally, but the way she said it made me think there's more to the story than just a simple threat. She seemed scared over it, and I knew if I didn't say something nasty and get the fuck out of there, I would've taken her into my arms to comfort her.

There are windows in this conference room. I can't afford that.

I know those feelings I hold for her run deep, but on the other hand, I don't know who the fuck she is now. She doesn't know who I am, either, and even if she did, it wouldn't matter.

Except…it does matter.

I don't know how much longer I can fight against this when I already know I'll be with her a good portion of the upcoming season. She's covering everything. There will be no escape.

And maybe the perfect solution is to get her fired. I could get this Rivera guy to get more pictures of us at the most opportune moments and convince him to turn them into their boss. She'd be fired and I wouldn't have to deal with her when I'm trying to focus on the new season and my new position.

But…

I can't do that.

I'm not like my father.

I can't hurt someone just because it fits my own agenda.

It would be easier. But it would also be wrong, and most often in life, the harder thing is the right thing.

At least that's what I've always told myself. It's what I convinced myself was true when I ended things with her the first time.

The harder thing here isn't avoiding her and getting her out of the picture. The harder thing is having her present at every Aces event and knowing I can't be with her when my chest lights up just at the mere sight of that blonde hair swirling in its chaotic madness.

I blow out a breath as I make my way to my office. Jack peeks his head in the doorway, and he asks me how everything went. It was fine. Six reporters, ten minutes each, and a fucking bulldozer to the stomach at the end. Perfect.

And then he tells me Ben Olson is on his way up for a chat.

I blow out a breath as I put my salesman cap back on. I have one job, and it's to get him on my coaching staff.

I hear him before I see him. "Megan!" he yells, greeting my secretary by first name as he approaches. "Is Nash in there?"

"He is, and he's expecting you, Mr. Olson," Megan says, and I sit up a little straighter in my chair.

"Hey Coach," he says as his large frame fills my doorway.

"Come on in," I say, standing to greet my guest. "Have a seat. Can I get you anything?"

"I'm good." He holds up a can of some energy drink. "Free samples from some company trying to get into my health clubs, but I gotta be honest, it tastes like shit." He laughs but takes another sip anyway, and I chuckle along with him.

"Listen, I'll cut to the chase since I know you're a busy man. I think you'd be an incredible fit on our coaching staff working with our tight ends, and I'm prepared to offer you a full-time position with us."

He laughs. "Dude, I just retired so I could spend more time with my girls. I can't put in the hours I did when I was a player, but get me one of those deals like Luke has and I'll think about it."

"You're open to working as a team consultant?" I press, hoping that I can hook him in with a consulting gig that turns to a permanent position down the line.

He nods. "I'm down for showing up to practices a few days a week. I'd be happy to help draft up new plays. But I can't commit to the team schedule. I need a year to figure out what my life is going to look like now that I'm not on my football routine."

"I get that, and I appreciate your honesty. I'll talk with Jack and we'll draft up a consulting contract."

He nods and takes another sip of his drink, and he makes a face. "Seriously, this is trash. Okay, Coach. Thanks for the chat." He heads out, leaving me to my work, and I finally get a minute to decompress after what Jolene shared with me.

I manage to avoid her for the next week, and suddenly we're at the first official day of the new season. Since I've already been working here nearly a month, the day comes and goes with business as usual. I set the final schedule for our voluntary minicamp early next week with Jack and Steve, and we finalize plans for the draft which takes place at the end of next week.

It'll be the busiest week since I started here, and it'll be my debut as head coach. Most of the players will come in for the voluntary minicamp if nothing else to get a look at what the team is going to look like without so many veteran players along with the new additions we've made this off-season.

Including Asher Nash, my little brother, who I'm calling now with the good news.

"What?" he answers.

"Welcome to the Aces," I say dryly. "I'm excited to have you and see what you can do for us."

"Thanks, Coach." I can hear the laughter in his voice. "I'm excited, too."

"We can discuss your role once you get here, and you're welcome to stay with me if you need a place."

"I appreciate that, bruh, but I'm gonna pass. Can't allow all my new teammates to think you're favoring your little brother." He makes a good point.

"Let me know if you need help getting here. Otherwise, I'll see you for minicamp next week."

"I'm good. See ya, Coach," he says, and he cuts the call.

That's Asher for you. Unpredictable except when it comes to making great plays on the field.

There's a knock on my office door, and I turn my attention in that direction and find my secretary standing there holding onto a package.

"What's that?" I ask.

She shrugs. "Just arrived for you. It has a Melissa Nash as the return address."

She hands it to me, and I rip it open to find a framed photo from the anniversary weekend. It's got all six of us—my parents and my four brothers—and we're all smiling and happy in it despite the secrets we were all keeping.

My lips lift a bit at it as the memories of the nice weekend we had together wash over me. It felt like things were simpler only a few days ago. I blow out a breath and set the photo on my credenza. I'm certain my mother sent it here rather than to my home with intention—she wanted a piece of the family in my office, and who am I to let her down?

"Thanks, Meg," I say, and then Austin Graham shows up behind Megan.

I wave him in. "Come on in," I say.

He takes a seat across from me. "I heard the news about your brother," he says, and I'm not surprised how fast word travels in this industry. "Can we talk about what this might mean for me?"

"Right now we don't know what it means, Austin. We'll take a hard look during camp, but you know my style is to keep the defense on their toes. That could mean anywhere from zero to three tight ends on the field for any given play, and I know your strengths. We'll utilize them and push you to success."

He nods. "I was hoping I'd be the one to step in Ben Olson's shoes," he admits. "I've been waiting my turn, and I thought this was it."

"Nobody's saying it isn't right now except for you. Don't worry. You're a valuable player on this team, and I will need you to bring your A-game every time you step foot on that field."

He nods, still not looking any less deflated than when he walked in here. "Look, Coach. I know you're aggressive and you're a risk-taker. I just need to know I'm not getting benched because you're giving your brother a chance instead."

I expected the accusation at some point, but I didn't think it would be literally five seconds after the paperwork was signed, and I didn't expect a player to confront me over it. "This is a business, Graham, and it would serve you well to remember that." My tone is icy as I say it. "I will be making decisions based on what's best for this team, and I'll thank you in advance to trust that I know what I'm doing. If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

"Yes, sir." He mumbles his words and stands to leave, and I wonder for a beat if I was too harsh.

It's a fine line here. I'm a coach, and part of my job is to support and motivate my players.

But I won't stand here and be questioned over my decisions, and bringing Asher in wasn't solely my decision. It was a group effort, and frankly I'm angry that Austin thinks he can just walk in here and tell me how it's going to be.

Fuck that.

He's not in charge here, and if that's how he wants to play it, he will be spending more time riding the pine because in all honesty, Asher is the stronger player. It's why I wanted him here.

And if Austin was really honest with himself, he'd know that, too. It's likely why he came to talk to me today, and he walked out of here knowing that questioning the way I do things won't yield the results he's hoping for.

A small part of me hopes he'll tell his teammates about our encounter so they don't question me next. But another part of me feels just the smallest sense of guilt that I was so firm with him when the truth of the matter is that I'm still all twisted up over Jolene and the photos some other reporter has of us.

She's already affecting the way I coach, and the season is still months from starting.

I can't imagine what that's going to mean once it actually gets underway.