Page 61 of My Pucking Crush

Max

A fter the stifled confrontation in front of Coach’s casket with Luca, I wait for Mrs. Avalon to look up from the front-row sofa to acknowledge me. Like most people from my past, I look for a flicker of truth in her eyes.

It sucks not knowing who knows my darkest secret.

Mrs. Avalon only has tears in her eyes, though, and I’m relieved her mind isn’t on me.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. A.” I bend down to offer her my hand to shake.

“Max Ryan!” She stands up, looking elegant but wrung out. “We’re both adults now. Call me Robin.”

“Robin, I’m so sorry about Coach.” I crack my first smile since arriving in my hometown. “He’ll always be Coach to me.”

“Coaching you and watching you grow into the professional athlete you are, the star on your team, the captain, too, was all he talked about,” she chokes up. “He watched all your games.”

“My parents...” I struggle with words that taste like acid on my tongue. “They never understood me. Why I kept wanting this. I don’t come back here often, and now I feel terrible.”

Especially knowing a few doors down from the shame, guilt, and abuse, a world of praise and acceptance waited for me.

“It’s nothing to feel bad about.” She brushes my arm, looking like she can’t believe it’s really me. Not the scrawny kid who played in her pool .

“If I had known Coach felt this way, I would have given you my season tickets.” They would have come to my games, given me some sense of family support. “My parents never wanted them.”

“We never wanted to bother you to ask.” She puts her head down.

And now it’s too fucking late.

“You’re welcome to come to the house after this showing,” she offers.

“I’d love to, but I can’t stay. I’m sorry. We have our next playoff game in two days.” I adjust my tie.

“I understand.” She glances behind me. “It means so much that you stopped by.”

I go to turn away, but she adds, “Who’s that man in the nice suit watching you?”

I freeze and glance over my shoulder. “He’s my bodyguard. There’s been some threats against me. Nothing unusual,” I say, feeling awful for denying who Luca really is to me.

“Oh...” She exhales. “I guess that comes from being famous.”

“Yep,” I say, glad she dropped it.

She leans in and whispers, “I thought he was a...boyfriend.”

My heart stops, and I feel like the biggest fool. Is it that obvious we’re fucking? I’m in a room full of people who know me. Knew about me and Jake.

Now I’m sick to my stomach, wondering if Coach told her what my uncle did to me. Not wanting any of this to be about me, I smile wryly. “He is my protector.”

Her wink soothes me, but my guard shoots right back up when a trio of women enter. They gasp seeing me. I don’t wait for them to gush and ask for selfies. I slide on my shades and get the hell out of the funeral parlor before I suffocate.