“Yes, sir. But after our interview, I hung out with some other friends, so I’m not sure…”
“… if she got naked and fucked one of my players in the pool.”
Jesus, that sounds terrible. “It’s possible she left.” Or banged Cam in my bed. It’s a toss-up, really. I didn’t ask Cam if he hooked up with her because, again, it’s none of my business. I don’t care who Vanessa sees.
“You’re the most senior player in that house. I expect you to lead by example. If that means telling your idiot roommates not to throw a raging party the first week of school, then do that.”
“Yes, sir.”
How the hell am I supposed to keep track of all the shit those guys get up to when I’m staying at Maggie’s? Maybe I should tell Santos about my situation. I’d planned on it. One, because I want to spend as much time as possible with Maggie because she shouldn’t have to do this by herself. And two, because telling him is the right thing to do.
Santos takes a file, which I suspect is mine, and tosses it on the back credenza. “I was going to tell you that you could start Saturday’s game, but first the party, and then you walk in here today with a shiner? I don’t condone fighting. Here’s the thing—I’m not the kind of coach who plays just to win. If I do it at the expense of your character, what’s the damn point? You’re benched for Saturday’s game.”
Goddamn it.
I open my mouth, but he cuts me off. “Is there anything else, Oliver? Anything else we need to clear up?”
I sure as hell can’t tell him I got my girlfriend pregnant now. “No, sir. There’s nothing else.”
50
MAGGIE
My phone buzzes with a text, but it’s not from the person I need to talk to right now.
Magpie, I’m sorry about everything. Are you feeling better?
When I don’t respond to Sebastian, he sends another message.
I’ve apologized to Olly. How’s his eye?
It looks terrible, and it made everything with Coach Santos worse, thanks for asking.
I’m not ready to talk to my brother or really anyone. Olly’s parents and sister have called to check in with him, but I think they’re worried about his coach not letting him play. I asked him not to tell them about his fight with Sebastian or my trip to the hospital. It’ll only prove to them that I’m a bad influence or will wreck his career or derail his focus.
After my brother punched him in the face on my front lawn, I’m starting to wonder if they’re right. Because physically, Olly’s ready to go. He’s worked his ass off to rehab and be in top shape, so him not being able to play tomorrow is heartbreaking. Would his coach have benched him this week for a party that he didn’t throw? He wasn’t in any of those photos. But him coming in with a swollen eye and bruised face was the icing on that cake and sealed his fate.
And me, well, I vacillate from being strangely numb to feeling terrified I’m going to lose everything—my babies and Olly and this crazy house—in some freak accident or stupid twist of events. I can’t explain it. Maybe sitting on this dumb couch all week is making me lose my mind.
At least I have my OB appointment today, and the doctor will hopefully give me the go-ahead to return to class. Then maybe Olly will stop looking at me like I’m a piece of spun glass.
I glance at my phone again.
My appointment is in forty minutes. Olly promised to take me on his lunch break. I keep expecting him to pull up the driveway, but he’s not back from class. I text him again, but depending on where he is on campus, it’s possible he’s not getting the messages.
I could call an Uber, but I don’t really have the funds for a round trip to the doctor’s. Billy’s and Cam’s rent checks haven’t been processed by the housing office yet, and I don’t get Amelia’s money until the first of the month.
Twenty minutes before the appointment, I start to get desperate. If Sienna still lived in town, I could call her, but she’s in Houston. I try calling Charlie, but it goes to voicemail. I’d ask Billy or Cam, but they’re never around except late at night when they stomp through the house.
My eye twitches when I think about asking Amelia. Her car is in the driveway, so I know she’s home.
If I miss this appointment, the doctor’s office will charge me a cancelation fee, and then I’ll have to wait another week or two before their next opening to find out if I can come off bed rest.
I’ll do anything to get back to my life, so I tuck away my pride and drag myself to the casita.
Amelia’s blasting music back there, and I have to pound on the door for her to hear me. When she opens the door, I gawk at her beautifully trim body that’s decked out in spandex. I feel so ungainly and round next to her.
“What do you want?” she asks as she wipes the sweat off her face. I must be interrupting her workout.
