13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Cole

"Evanson! A word." Coach waves me forward as the rest of the guys shuffle toward the locker room at the end of practice.

I consider pretending I didn't hear him, but I know that's a bad idea. Still, I don't like the way the team starts grumbling about special treatment as they pass me. Internally groaning, I reluctantly follow Coach to the edge of the pitch, wincing when he puts an arm around my shoulders.

I felt like I was making some headway with the team today. We were meshing better than usual, and some of the guys even joked around with me in between drills. But Coach treating me like his best buddy isn't going to win me any favors. They already think I bought my way onto the team.

"You're looking great out there, Evanson." Coach speaks louder than he needs to, which garners some glances back from those still within hearing distance. Bean is one of those, glaring at me despite Moxie talking to him as they walk. "Better than ever, I'd say."

"Today was a good day," I mutter. And it was. For the first time in a long time, I didn't have a cloud hanging over me and making everything fuzzy and muted. It makes no sense, considering I lay awake for a long time last night while my thoughts battled for dominance. Half of me wants to keep building this friendship with Carissa, while the other half wants to stay as far from her as I can get. Neither half is taking the lead. I should be exhausted, but I'm not.

With his arm still around me, Coach leans in close. Too close for my comfort. "I've been thinking, son." I wish he wouldn't call me that, but at least we're alone on the pitch now. "What this team really needs is someone who can lay down the law. Someone who isn't afraid to make enemies."

I have no idea what he's talking about. "Sir?"

"This team needs a captain who won't coddle his wings when they're falling behind."

A curse slips off my tongue. Is he saying he wants to replace Moxie as captain? "Auxier is the best captain in the league."

"Maybe." He rubs his chin, squinting up at the sky. "But what if you could be better?"

Swearing again, this time far louder than I should, I slip out from under his arm, shaking my head with vehemence. He wants me ? "Sir, with all due respect, I can't—"

"Don't be modest, son. I know how well you led the Badgers in your heyday. Any quarterback that can get his team to the Super Bowl can lead a bunch of idiots on a rugby pitch."

Does he have any idea how stupid he sounds? This is his team. And none of these players are idiots. We may not be top of the league right now, but we have more wins than we do losses and have been getting better all season. Thanks to Moxie . If he puts anyone in Moxie's place, this team will crumble.

Putting me in there will be a disaster.

"Sir, my objection isn't about my own skills." I choose my words carefully, knowing things could get worse if I get on Coach's bad side. "The team respects Auxier in a way they'll never respect me."

"That's because you haven't taken their respect, Evanson."

I clench my hands into fists. "I'm not—"

"Think about it. This could mean big things for you in the rugby world, and I know you're not the type to pass on an opportunity. Just say the word, and you'll have the power."

"I don't want—"

"I'm glad we understand each other." Clapping his hand to my back, he heads for his office without a glance back.

As soon as he's gone, I let out a yell and kick a ball someone left on the pitch. It flies toward the other end of the pitch in a smooth arc, almost better than any kick I've done intentionally. I can't be impressed with myself because my anger keeps building with nowhere for it to go.

There are so many things wrong with Coach's mindset. I meant it when I said Moxie is the best captain out there. He keeps a cool head, gets along with everyone, and isn't afraid to step in when his teammate is wallowing over a girl who dumped him months ago. And that says nothing about his playing. He could easily be playing for a national team anywhere in the world, but he likes to keep his life small.

But if Coach took him out as captain? I don't know what that would do to him. Moxie loves this team.

Growling, I wish I had another ball to kick because I can't go to the locker room and look Moxie in the eye. But I also can't stand here and hope my frustration wanes on its own.

Today was going so well. Carissa picked me up right on time and spent the drive singing along to one of Liam's songs on the radio. The whole team was looking sharp on drills, and our practice plays were the best we've ever done.

Why did Coach have to decide to show up and ruin everything?

Carissa finds me pacing the try zone near the tunnel, her bag slung over her shoulder and a wariness in her eyes that pulls me to a stop immediately. "Are you okay?" she asks.

I want to tell her what Coach told me. I need someone else to know why I'm so agitated. But I can't tell her. I can't let anyone know what might happen. "I'm fine."

"You can tell me—"

"This is something that needs to stay a secret." I wince as soon as the words leave my mouth. The hurt from my comment is clear as day in her eyes. "Carissa, I—"

"I get it. I talk too much, and I've already spilled one big secret, so there's no reason for you to trust me."

I swear under my breath, glancing toward the tunnel to make sure none of the guys are heading out yet. The last thing I need is them thinking I've hurt their new favorite person, even if it's true. "I trust you," I say, my voice strained.

Carissa purses her lips. "But not enough."

I need to get my phone. But doing that requires entering the locker room, and I'm sure Moxie will be waiting for me now that I've delayed hitting the showers. How can Coach think about replacing him? With me ? Moxie actually cares about the guys on his team, beyond the pitch, and I…

I'm too good at putting distance between me and everyone I interact with. It's a defense mechanism, but not for me. For them. The closer people get to me, the more danger they're in .

"I don't need a ride today," I say, shifting so there's more space between Carissa and me. "You're welcome to head out."

She doesn't move. "Cole, you were fine twenty minutes ago. What happened? Did the coach say something to you?"

The fact that she was paying enough attention to me to know I was in a good mood, and to know Coach pulled me aside, does something to my insides. I'm so used to the team ignoring me that it feels strange to get positive attention from someone who isn't one of my close friends or my family. My resolve slips.

"I'll tell you," I say, clenching my hands into fists. My words mirror hers from last night. "But not here."

"Where?"

"Can you get my things for me?" I could probably leave my stuff, but it's my phone that I can't bring myself to leave behind. Something tells me I'm going to need Freya's pragmatism, and it gets harder and harder to find time to video chat with her the closer she gets to her election to become queen. I need to be able to text her.

Glancing back toward the tunnel, Carissa lifts her eyebrows. "From the locker room?"

I curse under my breath. That's a terrible idea. "Never mind." I'll send Freya an email.

"No, I don't mind." Carissa hands me her bag, but I grab her elbow.

" I mind." Some of the guys don't bother with things like towels half the time, and there's no way I'm letting someone like Carissa subject herself to sights no one should have to see.

Carissa giggles, her nose wrinkling adorably. "What if I close my eyes?"

"Let's just go."

"No, now I'm curious." And she slips free of my hold before I can stop her, jogging to the tunnel and disappearing.

"Curious?" I repeat in horror. If not for the overwhelming fear that I'll run into Moxie and let slip Coach's ridiculous idea, I'd chase after her and physically bar her from entering the locker room. Instead, I stand in the evening sun, silently praying that the guys have an ounce of modesty when in the presence of a lady.

By the time Carissa returns with my duffel weighing her down, I've run my hands through my hair so many times that it's probably sticking straight up, but I don't care. "You don't look traumatized," I say, maybe too hopefully. I grab my bag before it pulls her off balance. I don't remember what's in here, but she's far too small to have carried it all the way out here.

"You make it look like it weighs nothing!" she says, ignoring my comment.

I'm going to push the issue. "Please tell me everyone was fully dressed."

"Are all rugby players made of pure muscle like you?"

"Carissa."

She snickers, but crimson lights up her cheeks. "They covered up as soon as I walked in. But you also have to remember that I'm up close in people's business regularly, so I'm not really fazed by the human body."

"I'm not worried about the human body. I'm worried about men's bodies. Those ones, specifically." It shouldn't bother me this much. Carissa can look at whatever she wants, and if she says a naked man doesn't faze her, then… My stomach twists. It still bothers me.

This had better not be jealousy.

"We should go before one of them takes your nonchalance as an invitation," I grumble and start heading for my car.

Carissa laughs as she follows me, and I hate how much the sound improves my mood. Jealousy and enjoying her laugh are two things that are going to make a friendship difficult. "For the record," she says, "I didn't see anything because I wasn't looking. The only person I talked to was Moxie. "

I stop so suddenly that she runs into me. "You didn't tell him anything, did you?" I ask, turning to face her.

"Like what?" She rubs her arm, probably where she collided with my bag.

If Moxie knows I'm in a bad mood after talking to the coach, he's going to ask why. I roll my shoulders as discomfort builds inside me. "I don't know. Anything."

"I just asked him which locker was yours. Does your bad mood have something to do with Mox—"

Without thinking, I press a hand over her mouth and pull her in close by the strap of her bag. "Not here," I repeat, only my words have no oomph because her eyes have gone wide. Looking at them up close, I marvel at the gold ring around them and the way the rich brown is broken up by threads of the same gold. Like little lightning strikes running through the irises.

They're kind of beautiful. More than kind of.

My hand slowly slips from her mouth, but instead of stepping away, I lean in closer, mesmerized by the soft pink of her parted lips. What if…

"Cole, is this your new girlfriend?"

Crap. Crap crap crap ! I step back, but the damage is already done as the paparazzo who spoke snaps several photos from his car window. He shouts more questions, but I grab Carissa's hand and tug her forward, ignoring the way she stumbles behind me. We have to get out of here.

As soon as Carissa gets close enough to the car for it to unlock, I shove my bag into the backseat and slide into the driver's seat. Carissa's past is going to be dredged up, her privacy dropping to zero. The guy likely got a clear shot of her face. That, and the fact that she's here at the stadium and wearing a Los Angeles Thunder polo, is plenty for someone to figure out her name and her connection to the team .

With a stream of swears on my tongue, I impatiently wait for Carissa to get settled in the passenger seat, and when she fumbles with her seatbelt, I grab it and buckle it for her.

"Cole, maybe I should—"

I throw the car into reverse and back out of the spot too quickly, but I'm desperate to get out of the parking lot before the pap can follow. I have a good route planned out to my house in case I ever need to make a hasty retreat—a trick I learned from Derek—but I don't know if it will make a difference. The photographer is already on my heels.

Does he plan on following me home?

"I should never have become your friend." I grip the wheel tight as I speed from the lot. "I should have let you leave on your own. I shouldn't have touched you."

"Cole."

I hit the call button on the steering wheel and tell the Bluetooth to call Ethan.

"Who is Ethan?" Carissa asks as the speakers start ringing with the call.

"A publicist." I don't work with him personally, but Derek, Bonnie, and Liam all do. If anyone will have good advice, he will.

"Cole?" Ethan's voice is full of concern. Probably because I only call him when there's trouble. "What's going on?"

"I need to hire you." I take a turn too quickly and swear under my breath when Carissa grips the door handle. I force my foot to lift off the gas a fraction and check the rear view mirror to make sure no one is behind us. With enough turns, I should be able to lose the paparazzo entirely. But I won't relax until I know he's gone for sure.

Ethan's quiet for a minute. "Okay. What's up?"

"I did something I shouldn't have."

"That sounds ominous. "

"It's not…" I growl as I reluctantly stop at a light. Now that we're not moving, the anxiety is starting to creep in, but I do my best to ignore it. "I just got photographed."

"Doing what?"

Technically nothing, but with how close Carissa and I were and the angle at which the pap was watching us, I'm sure it looked like I was doing a lot more than I was. I take a deep breath, and when the light turns green, I gun it. "We have a new rehab specialist on the team. Carissa." I glance at her, and she stares back at me, her face full of fear. I don't know if it's from the paparazzo or from my driving. Probably both. I force myself to slow a little more, my fingers tight on the wheel. "She's already been on Hot Scoop once."

"The blonde?"

Carissa squeaks.

"Uh, she's here with me by the way."

"Hi." Ethan waits a moment. "What did you do, Cole?"

"Nothing. But…"

"They think I'm his new girlfriend," Carissa says. "I'm not, by the way."

"Why do they think that?"

"Because it's Hot Scoop ," I snap, taking another sharp turn. "And I might have been close to her."

"Close," Ethan repeats, and I glance at Carissa. "Cole, you're going to have to give me more than that if I'm going to know what needs to be done here. What happened?"

I came dangerously close to kissing her.

I see the stop sign too late and slam on the brakes. The car skids to a halt at an angle and partway into the intersection right as a huge pickup passes in the other direction and swerves around us.

I nearly drove right into it .

My heart rate skyrockets, flooding my body with panic and dizziness. My mouth goes dry, my vision hazy. Fumbling for the door, I stumble out just in time to vomit onto the road and sink to one knee as my chest constricts, painfully tight.

"Cole!" Carissa's voice is muffled. Like she's speaking from above while I'm at the bottom of a pool. "Cole, are you okay?" Hands press on my shoulders, hot and uncomfortable.

I shake my head, wishing I could shake away her touch too. "Give…give me a sec." I'm going to need more than a second. I could have killed her. I'm such an idiot. I could have killed her.

"Cole, you need to get out of the road." She tries to lift me.

I'm an immovable rock, frozen in place as my mind rushes back to prom night. The Jeep that ran a red light. The shards of glass and metal that flew from the passenger side. I still have the scars. My girlfriend ended up far worse.

Why am I not over this by now? I've had years of therapy. Bianca never blamed me. It wasn't my fault . And I know that.

Today would have been my fault. My fault . I'm too dangerous for anyone to get close to me. Too dangerous to love. I could have killed her.

"Cole." Carissa crouches in front of me and plants her palms on my cheeks, forcing me to look at her. "Please. Stand up. I'll take you anywhere you want to go. Please."

The heat of the asphalt burns into the skin of my knee, but I barely feel it. I'm too focused on the heat of Carissa's gaze. Her fear is gone. Now there's nothing but determination and strength in her lightning-studded eyes.

She's the most beautiful person I've ever seen.

Dangerous . And I could have killed her.

"Please," she says again.

The tension in my body crumbles. Exhaling weakly, I nod and struggle to my feet. I'm pretty sure she helps me stand, which is ridiculous because she's tiny. But as she guides me around to the passenger seat, holding some of my weight, I realize she's stronger than she looks.

I collapse into the seat and bury my face in my hands, willing myself to breathe. To calm down. My heart is still racing, trying to beat out of my chest.

Carissa doesn't say anything as she moves the car out of the intersection and drives a block or so, pulling onto a side street and parking along the sidewalk. By some miracle, we remain alone, but I know better than to think that will last. Someone will have noticed me in the street.

"I'm sorry." The words come out of me in a breath because that's all I have the strength for. My chest is too tight to let me breathe.

"It's okay, Cole."

"No." Though I'd love to keep hiding, I turn to look at her. She still has that strong look in her eyes, and now I can't look away. "It's not okay. I should never have… I put you in danger." I did that. Not a curse. Me . "This is why we can't…why I won't… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Her fingers adjust their hold around the steering wheel, fair and slender. Everything about her build suggests she's delicate, but there's not even a tremor in her hands. Whatever fear she had while I was driving like a maniac, it faded quickly. "I told Ethan we would call him back. He sounded pretty worried about you."

"Later," I beg. It was bad enough that Carissa just saw me at my low, and I don't need Ethan mentioning anything to my friends. I know he would.

The display lights up with a call from Derek, and I curse under my breath. Ethan must have already said something to him. I can only imagine the kind of things Derek might say with the limited information Ethan could have given him. He'll infer the panic attack and make a bigger deal out of it than he needs to.

"Should I answer it?" Carissa asks, her hand hovering over the button. Her eyes are fixed on me .

I swallow, still fighting to take full breaths. I'm starting to notice the bitter taste in my mouth, but reaching for my water bottle in the backseat sounds too daunting. "I don't know." I love the guy, but I don't think I have the energy for Derek either.

The call ends, and only a few seconds later it lights up again with Freya's name.

I sigh, some of my lingering tension releasing with my exhale. "Sometimes I hate my friends," I grumble, then nod even though I'm not sure I can have a conversation right now.

Carissa hits the button, and the car fills with Freya's strong voice. "Coleman Evanson, what in the world is happening?"

"I'm fine."

Carissa meets my eyes again, and her lips twitch with a smile before she mouths, Coleman?

I narrow my eyes, managing a full breath. Finally . Now, if I could just get my heart to stop racing…

"You do not sound fine," Freya argues. "I heard—"

"Whatever Derek told you, he doesn't know anything." Stupid voice tremor. I sound awful, and I drop my head against the seat in exhaustion.

"Where are you? Derek will come so you are not alone."

I scoff, shaking my head, but this conversation is working well to get me to finally relax. Or maybe it's the way Carissa is biting her lip to keep from smiling, locking my attention on her. I wonder how soft that lip is. I swallow, forcing my focus away from Carissa's mouth. That's what got me into this mess in the first place. "I'm not alone, Peach." I sound stronger now.

"Oh?"

"Hi again, Your Highness," Carissa says, waving at the display even though there's nothing there but the radio.

I crack a weak smile, grateful for the distraction. "You don't have to call her that," I whisper .

"But she's a princess!" Carissa whispers back.

"Yeah, but—"

"What happened? Derek is worried." Freya's voice has dropped into a gentler tone, which I appreciate. When she gets worked up, she can get impressively loud. "And so am I. You have been struggling."

Carissa's smile slips.

I sigh. "I told you. I'm fine. Carissa and I had a run in with a pap."

"I do not like it when you call them that," Freya complains. "It sounds like my appointment with my women's physician."

Women's physician? Carissa mouths.

I laugh weakly and shake my head. "Peach, you really need to work on sounding more human."

"I am royalty, Evanson. I will speak how I speak."

"Okay."

"What did the photographer witness?"

I meet Carissa's gaze, for the first time wondering what her perspective on the moment is. Did she think I was going to kiss her? Because I'm not sure if I would have actually done it.

But I wanted to.

When she remains silent and mostly unreadable outside of a slight blush of color in her cheeks, I say, "I'm sure he thinks he came across an intimate moment."

Freya gasps. " Did he come across an intimate moment? Are the two of you—"

"Of course not." I wince, realizing how that sounds. "Carissa and I are friends."

"You did not think of her as a friend a few days ago. She was your enemy."

"That was a few days ago." And oh, how wrong I was. Carissa is my…well, friend doesn't feel like the right word. I don't know if any of my friends could have gotten me away from that panic attack so quickly.

Carissa skipped the friend stage and jumped right into seeing the deepest parts of me. It's like she has latched on to my soul, and her hold on me was strong enough to pull me out of the panic.

Dangerous.

"Hmm." Freya is quiet for a long time, and though I planned to text her, I can't wait for this conversation to end.

"Peach, I promise I'm okay," I say, surprised that it's actually true. I'm exhausted, but I'm…okay.

"And I won't leave him until I'm sure he'll continue to be okay," Carissa says.

I'm even more surprised by that, enough so that I gape at her. I've brought her nothing but trouble, and yet there's no sign of deception in her words. She really does want to make sure I'm okay. I can't help but smile at her as I reach back and grab a water bottle from my bag. She never does what I expect, in the best ways, and I'm starting to realize how much I like the way she surprises me.

When Freya speaks again, a hint of emotion softens her words. "Thank you, Carissa. Cole does not often trust people, but I am glad he has come to trust you. The man needs more women in his life."

I choke on my water, spewing it all over the dash and coughing uncontrollably as my lungs try to expel what I just inhaled. "Freya!" I gasp.

"What?" she replies. "You do."

"I really don't."

"Because you are cursed, yes?" Thank goodness I already told Carissa about the family curse, though I still don't like the way it sounds when someone else talks about it. "Cole, you are too intelligent to truly believe in something like fate. Loving a woman will not lead to her death. Carissa, has he told you his ridiculous notions?"

I'm not sure I want to hear what Carissa has to say.

Pressing her lips together, Carissa seems to debate how she wants to answer. "He told me about his family history," she says .

Huh. I don't mind that answer.

"Hmm." Freya pauses again, then lets out a deep sigh. "There is more I could say on the subject, but I should go. My bodyguard has realized I am awake and is concerned."

I swear when I realize what time it is. "Peach, it's four in the morning there!"

"I am aware."

"Why are you awake?"

"Because I was worried about you, Cole. And you should control your language, especially in the presence of a lady."

"I don't mind," Carissa says at the same time I grumble, "I know." We look at each other, smiles playing on both our lips.

"Thanks for calling, Freya," I say. "It means a lot."

"I need you to take better care of yourself, Cole. Please."

Though I roll my eyes, I appreciate how much she worries about me. "Promise."

As the call ends, silence fills the space around Carissa and me. I usually crave quiet moments like this, but not after all that's happened since practice ended.

It's been a lot.

I clear my throat. "So."

Carissa smiles. "So. Your friends really do look out for each other, don't they?"

I nod right before I catch a hint of wistfulness in her words. Jealousy. But I have no idea if she's jealous of my friends or something else. Just in case, I say, "Freya has been like a big sister to me ever since we met several years ago. She can be overprotective, but I love her."

To my delight—or maybe concern—Carissa's smile brightens. "You have a princess for a sister, huh?"

"Don't tell my Gramps. I think he's secretly in love with her and wants her to become my new grandma. "

Carissa snorts and covers her mouth. "How old is your grandpa?"

"Forty-five years older than Freya, give or take, though you'd never guess it. He has the energy of a man half his age, which is probably what fuels his delusion."

"He sounds great."

"Do you…" I stop myself before the rest of the sentence comes out. I can't ask that! It would be doing exactly what I shouldn't do.

But Carissa tilts her head, a question in her eyes. "Do I what?"

I'm too tired to pretend I don't want her to come with me. At this point, I might as well let Carissa see the whole of my life now that she's seen the ugliest parts. If my curse or my anxiety haven't scared her off, maybe nothing will. It feels selfish to hope she'll want to be my friend even with the threat of tabloids looming over us—I should probably call Ethan before it gets too late—but it's been a while since I had to deal with anything too prying. It would be nice to have someone else going through it with me.

"Do you want to meet him? My Gramps?" I gesture to the street ahead of us. "He and my dad live just around the corner."

I'm already regretting this, but Carissa eagerly shifts the car into gear again and asks me where to go.

I guess I'm bringing a woman home to meet my family for the first time in…ever.