Page 23

Eve

“ A re you out of your fucking mind!?” Tate yells. “There’s no such thing as exhibition rugby. It’s not a fucking pansy game.” The veins in his neck bulge. I’ve never seen this side of Tate. “People can get seriously hurt. They could fucking die playing like it’s a fucking joke!”

“Tate.” I didn’t expect him to fall over himself at the thought of exhibition rugby, but I didn’t expect him to impersonate a volcano and erupt, either. Carefully, I bring my hands up. My fingertips graze his chest before he shoos my hands away. “There’s no reason to go crazy.”

“Crazy? I’m not going fucking crazy. What’s crazy is the idea that you think you know anything about rugby.”

“Agreed. And that’s where you come in. I want you to be right by my side. You have all the knowledge I’ll need and then some. In addition to managing— ”

“Whoa,” he steps back, away from me. “You want me to work for you? Is that what this is about?”

“No. Not really. It’s more like a partnership. I want this to be a project we work on together. Something for the two of us to grow together . Let me go get the box with the uniforms. The scrum caps are adorable.”

“Adorable? Scrum caps aren’t supposed to be fashionable. How could you think I’d want any part of this? How could you think making a mockery of me and what I love would fly?”

The excitement flowing through my veins dries up. It’s replaced with a feeling of dread.

“Tate, I wanted to do this for you, not to belittle you.”

His eyes turn to narrow slits. “You wanted to do something for me?”

I nod. “You have so much knowledge, and I know you miss—”

“If I wanted to coach, I’d fucking coach!

I had opportunities. I told you I didn’t want that.

I’m not such a fucking loser that the woman I love needs to find something to keep me busy.

If you wanted to do something nice, you could’ve acknowledged me when I told you I love you.

” Reaching for his wallet, Tate pulls out a wad of cash and throws it at me.

“You’re so damn independent, call for a ride home, and Eve, I don’t need your fucking money. I have enough of my own.”

“What the hell is going on here?” Gemma asks, standing at the door with Teddy. “Did I just hear . . .?” She looks back and forth from me to Tate like she’s watching a ping-pong game. “You love my mother?”

Tate shakes his head and storms out the door.

I feel so shattered, I’m not sure I can keep up a pretense of excitement to tell Teddy and Gemma about my surprise. Because my vision of what could be is getting more distant by the second.

I thought this would be the best of all worlds.

Something Tate and I could work and grow together.

He could be involved in rugby and developing other young men, and I could gain a better understanding of his world.

An option for Teddy to continue playing while staying in the States and working towards one of the professional teams. And a chance for Gemma and I to stay geographically close without her having to make a difficult choice that will end in her resenting me.

And now, all the cards have come crashing down.

FIVE DAYS. I HAVEN’T seen or heard from Tate in five long days. Gemma isn’t speaking to me either. She feels betrayed. Just like Tate said she would. It didn’t help that he blew up in my face and walked out, leaving me stranded.

Teddy wouldn’t leave me. He insisted on giving me a ride home. The tension in the car was thick. I’m not sure if it was because of what they witnessed between Tate and me or if they weren’t on the best of terms walking in.

The worst part is Gemma didn’t witness how good Tate is—was—to me.

She has no idea how sweet and supportive he can be.

I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, going out on a limb and spending so much of the money Brandon left me.

It’s completely out of character for me to burn through money like it means nothing.

The ringing sound of the doorbell startles me. I rush to my feet and smooth my hair as I head for the door.

“Please, please, please,” I whisper, hoping I don’t look too disheveled. I whisper one last plea before opening the door. “Please be Tate.”

“Hi, Mrs. Robbins.”

“Teddy?” With his hand on his neck, the boy looks around before meeting my eyes, very much like his uncle. Oh shit, something’s wrong.

“Is Gemma okay?”

He nods, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Yeah, no, she’s fine.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Uncle Tate told me what you wanted to do.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m in.”