Page 16 of Coach’s Pass (Twin Cities #1)

My stomach flips. Jackson’s still kneeling in front of me, eyes wide, lips parted. My shirt’s half untucked and my pants are on the ground. “Shit,” I mutter, throwing my phone on my desk. “That was Austin. He’s on his way here. Two minutes.”

Jackson scrambles to his feet. “What?”

“Go—now.” I motion to the side door that leads to the staff hallway. “Take the back exit and don’t let anyone see you.”

He fumbles with his bag, heart pounding just as fast as mine. No time for a goodbye, no time for a kiss. Just a rush of panicked adrenaline.

He looks at me again, a worried expression on his face, “You okay?”

“Go, Jackson. Please.”

He nods and disappears through the door. I suck in a breath, run both hands through my hair, then button up and pull my pants back on. I put the game film back on. Making it look like I wasn’t just getting sucked off in my office.

The knock on the door comes as I sit down.

“Come in,” I call.

Austin steps inside, his face unreadable. My heart's still racing a million miles per hour. I say a silent prayer he didn’t cross paths with Jackson in the hallway.

“Dad there has been something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

I nod, gesturing to the chair across from my desk. “Go right ahead, son. You know you can tell me anything.”

He sits down slowly, nervous, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. “Well… I guess I should start with I think I’m gay.”

The words hit like a blinding blitz. He keeps going before I can gather my thoughts. “I’ve been seeing this guy. Charlie. Charlie Evans.”

“Charlie Evans?” I repeat. “The kicker? From the Lumberjacks?”

Austin nods. “Yeah. That’s him.”

My throat goes dry. “How old is Charlie?”

“He’s thirty-nine.”

Jesus, almost old enough to be his father. That doesn’t sit right in my stomach. Why does this news turn my stomach, make my jaw clench, when just minutes ago I was inches from letting Jackson drop to his knees for me again?

Why is it different? Because he’s not me? Because it forces me to face a reflection I don’t want to look at?

Austin watches me closely, waiting for a reaction. My son’s brave enough to sit here and come out, trusting me with something this raw. And I’m choking on my own hypocrisy.

“Okay,” I finally manage. “Thank you for telling me son. That takes guts.”

He gives me a surprised smile, while I lean back in my chair. Debating on what I should say next. “Okay son, there is something I have to tell you to.”

“Yeah dad, what is it?

“You were right earlier,” I mutter. “Jackson and I were in Duluth together last weekend.”

Austin’s expression freezes. Whatever warmth was blooming in his smile disappears in an instant. “You were what ? ” he says, blinking as if he misheard me.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen. I didn’t plan on any of it. I swear to you.”

“You’re serious?” His voice cracks. “You and Jackson ? My best friend ?”

He pushes up from the chair, his face pale. “You’re my dad,” he says. “He’s twenty-two. He’s on your team!”

“I know. I know how it looks, I—”

“How it looks ? ” he laughs bitterly. “You think I care about appearances right now? I told you about Charlie because I thought we could trust each other. And you shoot back with this?”

I stand up. “Son, it’s more complicated than you know. Jackson—he’s not just some fling. We’ve… connected. And I never meant to hurt you.”

Austin glares at me. “Well, congrats. You did. Always have to make everything about yourself. No wonder why Mom couldn’t handle it anymore. You made her run back to New Hampshire. Too focused on your fucking career instead of taking her out on a date.”

Dang, that stings. Strikes me harder than any blow I’ve taken on the field. Is he right?

I swallow hard. “That’s not fair,” I manage weakly.

“Isn’t it?” he fires back, eyes sharp with betrayal. “You think Jackson’s the first time you’ve let your personal shit interfere with everything else? You never showed up to my junior year playoffs. You forgot my eighteenth birthday.”

I try to interrupt, but he keeps laying it on. Years of pent-up frustration boiling over.

“Mom tried. She tried to be the glue. Now I find out you’re fucking my best friend? The one person who actually stuck by me when the divorce happened? Do you have any idea how fucked up that is?”

I step forward. “I know I’ve failed you,” I say. "I know that saying sorry doesn’t fix a damn thing. But I never stopped loving you, Austin. I swear to God I didn’t.”

He stares at me, exhaustion wearing on him. “I didn’t come here to blow up at you,” he mutters. “I came here to try. To tell you about Charlie. To give you the chance to support me for once. And you turned it into another chapter of The Brad Schmidt Show.”

I stammer. “I’m sorry son.”

“I’m not asking for a pass,” I add. “You want to hate me? Go ahead. I’ve earned that. But just know this thing with Jackson—whatever it is—it wasn’t some plan to screw you over.”

Austin turns toward the door and walks down the hallway. Leaving me to ponder my thoughts that even I couldn’t get straight. What the fuck is wrong with me ?

I sink back into my chair, the cushion offering no comfort.

I knew this would all blow up in my face.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. I told myself I could handle it.

That I could walk the line between control and temptation, between mentor and lover, between father and man.

But all I’ve done is blur every boundary I ever stood for.

I thought I was risking my contract, not my fragile relationship with Austin.

Jackson’s the only person who’s made me feel alive in years. But what kind of man sacrifices his own son’s trust just to feel whole again? A shitty father, that’s who.

And now I’m in love with a boy I shouldn’t have ever touched. A boy who might cost me everything.

I sit in agonizing silence for a moment. The air in my office is stifling, almost suffocating. Thinking of a play out of this situation.

There might be a way out of this predicament. A Hail Mary pass, but everything needs to go perfectly.