Page 121 of Let You Love Me

“You think someone set you up?” She frowns.

I exhale and drop my hand. “I don’t know.”

I’m not sure of anything.

“Maybe? Or maybe they literally stashed it there for themselves and never thought I’d see it. Maybe they planned to come back for it, then couldn’t?” It’s not plausible, but it’s possible. I shrug. “All I know is your father is only going to give me so many chances, and who knows what he’s thinking now. For all I know, he thinks I have a drinking problem. At the very least, he thinks I broke the law and violated team policy. I can’t imagine the reminder that we’re friends and I’ve been hanging around Sophie will go over well with him.”

“I can explain. I can—”

“No.” I shake my head, adamant. “You can’t fight my battles. It’s not fair, and I’m not sure how much it’ll help, anyway. Defending me might piss him off even more.”

“So what are you gonna do?”

I sigh. “Lay low. Keep my head down and work hard, all while keeping my eyes open for trouble until I can somehow earn back his good graces.”

“I hate that this happened to you.”

I snort.You’re telling me.

I scratch the edge of my jaw. “With you and I seeing each other more often, the timing isn’t the best, I’ll give you that.”

She leans back in her chair and grunts. “And I thought my night was bad.”

I glance over at her with a frown, searching her face for clues as to what she might be referring to. “How was your night bad? I know I was late, but—”

“It was nothing. Just . . .” She groans and bites her lip, and I can sense her hesitation when she says, “It’s Chance.”

I stiffen at the name.

“What about him?”

“He showed up at my parents’ place looking for my father before he got home, and my mother made him go out with us since you weren’t there yet. I think she felt bad for me or—what?” she asks, taking in my murderous expression.

A prickling heat I recognize as jealousy floods my veins and shimmies up my spine. Every muscle in my arms coils at the thought of Chance fucking Lockhart rushing to take my place.

The fact that he knew I was running late tonight and showed up on Lane’s doorstep is more than a little telling, and it settles in the pit of my stomach like a rock. “Nothing. Go on.”

“Well, I didn’t want him to come with us but I was stuck. Then to make matters worse, my mother said she’d tell you where I was if you showed up, so he knew I’d been waiting on you, and he said something that pissed me off.”

“What did he say?”

She fiddles with the hem of her shirt. “Just something about how you weren’t good for me and a bad influence.” She winces.“Now that I know what happened tonight, I assume that’s where he was coming from, but I told him in no uncertain terms that he didn’t know what he was talking about and to get lost.”

My good hand fists, my mind churning.

Interesting that he thought Coach would be there, when he knows damn well he stays after practice for more than an hour each night. Also interesting is the fact that he waited to speak with Coach until we were in the locker room. Normally, he’d do it right on the field after practice.

Come to think of it, he’s never stopped him in the locker room before. Yet he did tonight. The same night someone planted booze in my locker, poised to fall out when I opened the door conveniently in front of Coach.

The timing is suspect at best, made more suspicious by the fact he busted ass to get to Lane’s house in search of Coach when he knew damn well he wouldn’t be there, then bad-mouthed me to her.

My jaw hardens.

Suddenly, it’s looking a lot less like the booze bottle was some kind of honest mistake or a prank gone wrong and a lot more like someone put it there.

And I’d bet anything that someone was Chance.

I’m not surprised when Coach asks to see me after practice.