Page 5

N ashville smells different.

Maybe it’s the warmth of the sun on pavement or the air that carries the sharp, fresh bite of rain. Maybe it’s just the weight of everything this city represents.

A shot to do well in the league.

A second chance.

A way to focus on what matters. Olivia.

That’s what this is supposed to be.

A reset. A clean slate. The place I finally get my shit together and prove I’m more than the mess I left behind. More than the man who almost lost everything.

And that starts now.

I shift my duffel higher on my shoulder, stepping away from the airport and into the thick Tennessee air. The breeze carries the sound of honking horns, the faint hum of live music in the distance. This city has a pulse, and I’m about to be a part of it.

I should be excited.

I should be ready.

Instead, my jaw is clenched, my muscles wound too damn tight, and I know exactly why.

I push a shock of hair away from my face, forcing myself to shake off the tension. Focus. There’s no room in my head for distractions. No room for things that don’t matter.

No room for her.

And yet…

Kenzie is still there.

Like a brand pressed into my skin, a slow, lingering burn that won’t fucking fade. It’s been days since I watched her walk away.

Since I stood in that hotel lobby, my hands fisted at my sides, watching her disappear into the back of a cab while I told myself to let her go.

It was supposed to be one night.

No names. No expectations. No lingering thoughts.

But Kenzie isn’t the kind of woman you forget.

And I fucking hate that I know that now.

I exhale sharply, gripping the handle of my suitcase as I step toward the curb. I’ve got bigger things to deal with. Bigger priorities. And the first one is waiting for me across town.

Olivia.

My daughter. My entire world.

She’s the reason I took this job. The reason I do anything.

The reason I even considered Denver in the first place. I clench my jaw, forcing down the frustration that thought still brings. The truth is, Denver looked like the smart move on paper. Bigger market. Better salary. A team with a solid foundation. The kind of career move that could have set me up for the long haul.

And I considered it—because I have to think about Olivia’s future, too.

Lauren made sure of that.

Her lawyers already pushed for more control over custody once. A power move. A reminder that she still holds the legal upper hand. If I don’t stay financially rock solid, I wouldn’t put it past her to try again.

And the worst part?

She’d probably win.

Because no matter how much I love my daughter, courts like stability. They like money. They like mothers who can prove they offer both.

So yeah, Denver made sense. More money. More career security. More leverage if I ever had to fight back.

But it wasn’t here. It wasn’t where Olivia is. And I refuse to let her grow up seeing me as a visitor in her life.

I shake my head, stepping toward the car rental pickup area. Time to get my shit together. Time to focus on the only thing that matters.

Whatever the hell happened that night with Kenzie?

It’s done. Over. Gone.

At least, that’s what I tell myself. The car ride across town is quiet. Not in a peaceful way. In the kind of way that leaves too much room for thoughts I don’t want.

I grip the steering wheel, forcing my focus forward. Nashville is my chance to do right by my daughter. I made my choice, and I don’t regret it.

But even as I tell myself that, my fingers tighten around the gear shift of the rental car.

It’s temporary. Just like this whole transition phase.

Just like—

I exhale sharply, cutting that thought off before it fully forms. Because Kenzie doesn’t belong in my head right now.

I sigh as I roll through the next green light.

Enough.

Kenzie doesn’t matter. She’s not my problem. What is my problem?

The house comes into view up ahead. Lauren’s house.

I roll to a stop in front of the massive, meticulously perfect Southern estate—white columns, manicured hedges, a front porch so polished it practically reflects the sunlight.

It’s new.

Nothing like the Chicago home we shared before the divorce.

She sold that one almost before I even had a chance to fight for it—traded it for something bigger, flashier, with a zip code that screams money.

Because that’s Lauren. Always climbing. Always redefining herself.

And standing in front of it now, the familiar burn of resentment settles in my chest. Not because I give a shit about the house. Not because I care that she won the divorce.

It’s not the house. It’s who’s inside.

I take a slow breath and knock twice as I brace myself for the inevitable.

A long beat passes before the door opens. Lauren doesn’t smile. Doesn’t act like I’m welcome. This is part of her power move, to make me feel like an unwelcome outsider.

Lauren hums as she looks me over like I’m something she scraped off the bottom of her designer heels.

"Grant," she says, perfectly polite, but I know that tone.

That thinly veiled irritation.

That you’re an inconvenience just by existing kind of energy.

I don’t take the bait. "I’m here for Olivia."

Lauren sighs like this is a personal burden. "You’re early."

"It’s five minutes."

She crosses her slender arms, eyeing me. "So, you finally made your decision, then? Nashville?"

My jaw tics.

Of course she is going to make it sound like a bad idea.

Lauren has a way of keeping tabs on me and then making comments that reveal her disapproval. She doesn’t keep her nose in my business because she cares, but because she likes knowing what I’m up to, preferably before I even tell her.

I nod. "Yeah. I did."

She scoffs like it’s the wrong choice, then says, "I suppose that’s… for the best."

I don’t ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean. Because I know better than to get into it with her. Instead, I glance past her, looking for the only person I care about seeing today.

And then—

"Daddy!"

A blur of dark curls and pink sneakers launches into me before I even register the sound of her voice.

I catch Olivia with one arm, her tiny body clutching onto me like she hasn’t seen me in weeks. Even though it’s only been a few days.

I huff out a breath, instantly lighter as I lift her against my chest. "Hey, baby girl."

She pulls back just enough to beam at me, her big brown eyes shining. "I missed you!"

I press a kiss to the top of her head, my grip tightening. "I missed you more."

Lauren clears her throat behind us, reminding me we’re not alone.

"I expect you’ll have her back on time tomorrow," she says, voice clipped. “You have housing arranged, then?”

I don’t rise to the bait. I sent her an email an hour ago with the short-term rental apartment complex I’ll be living in until I find a house. Not that she deigned to read it.

"Of course," I say evenly. Because I don’t fight in front of Olivia.

She doesn’t need to see that. Doesn’t need to feel like she’s a pawn in this game Lauren loves to play. But that doesn’t mean I don’t see it for what it is.

Even as we step off her pristine porch and walk toward my rental car, I can still feel her smugness. Still hear the unspoken words in the way she shut the door.

This is her life.

The house. The influence. The upper hand in court, if she ever decides to go after it again.

And that’s exactly why I have to be smart. Exactly why I have to be better. Because Olivia is the only thing that matters.

And I won’t let anyone take her away from me.

***

The Nashville Eagles facility is new.

Not in the fresh-paint, still-smells-like-construction kind of way. But in the way that it doesn’t feel like mine yet.

I walk through the wide corridors, past championship banners and framed jerseys, past staff I don’t know yet but will be working with every day.

This is my new home.

My new team.

And I need to get my head in the game. I straighten my shoulders as I push through the locker room doors. Time to meet the guys.

The moment I step inside, I get the full picture.

Half-dressed players, laughter bouncing off the walls, the sharp scent of sweat and menthol lingering in the air. Typical locker room energy.

I scan the room, recognizing a few faces from scouting reports, some from previous matchups back when I was coaching.

A group of guys are gathered near the benches—bullshitting, chirping each other, the usual pre-practice banter.

Then I spot him. Jake Williams. Nashville’s captain. Veteran forward. A solid player and an even better leader.

He’s standing with a few other guys, stretching out his shoulder while one of the younger players talks animatedly beside him.

"Yeah, yeah," Jake says, smirking. "Keep talking, rookie. We’ll see how much you’re running your mouth after you take a few hits in drills today."

The younger guy grins but doesn’t back down. "I’m quicker than you, old man."

Jake snorts. "Right. Keep telling yourself that."

A few guys laugh, and I take the moment to step forward. The second Jake’s eyes land on me, his posture straightens.

I nod. "Williams."

He nods back, eyes sharp as he extends a hand. "Coach."

We shake hands—a solid, professional grip.

No hesitation.

No tension.

Just mutual respect.

Good.

Because I need him on my side.

Before I can say anything else, one of the other players leans in, smirking. "Hey, speaking of old men, how’s it feel knowing you’re about to be coached by a guy who was still dropping gloves when you were a rookie?"

Laughter ripples through the group, but Jake just shrugs. "As long as he knows what he’s doing, I don’t give a shit how old he is."

I raise a brow. "That supposed to be a compliment?"

Jake grins. "Yeah. Take it while you can."

More laughter, but before I can reply, one of the guys behind him pipes up.

"Just don’t go too hard on Williams, Coach. His little sister will kill you."

It’s a joke. Just offhand locker room chirping. I don’t think much of it.

But then another player laughs. "Yeah, you’ve never met Kenzie, right? She doesn’t play around when it comes to her big brother."

Kenzie.

My chest goes tight.

It’s a common name. I’ve heard it before.

And yet, the moment it leaves his mouth, something sharp flickers through me.

Something I don’t fucking like.

My shoulders stay loose, my face unreadable, but my pulse is a different story.

Because suddenly, I can hear her voice in my head again.

Low, teasing, full of something wicked.

No takebacks, Silver Fox.

My jaw locks. No. That would be fucking ridiculous. The odds are impossible Right?

I exhale, turning toward my office. Because I have real shit to focus on. And whoever the hell Jake’s sister is? She doesn’t matter.

The sounds of the locker room settle into the background as I shut the door behind me.

I need a damn minute.

The locker room was fine. Good energy. Solid introductions. Nothing unexpected. Except…

Kenzie.

I lean against the edge of my desk, arms crossed tight over my chest.

It’s just a name. A common one. And yet, it hit like a sucker punch to the ribs.

Jake’s little sister.

Kenzie.

Could it be—? No. No fucking way.

I shake my head, pushing off the desk. I need to let this shit go. I sit down, flip open my laptop, but my fingers drum restlessly against the desk.

For some goddamn reason, my thoughts won’t shift. They keep circling back to her. The Kenzie I met. The one who wrecked my body, my brain, and my control in a single night. The one I told myself to forget.

My jaw tightens. This is stupid. I have more important things to—

A sharp knock on the door.

I inhale slowly, schooling my expression before calling out, “Come in.”

The door swings open.

And just like that—

The world stops.

I fucking see her.

Kenzie.

Standing in my office doorway like a goddamn hallucination.

Hair still long and wavy, eyes still the sharpest green I’ve ever seen.

Mouth slightly parted, like she’s just as frozen as I am.

The world tilts and my stomach flips.

This isn’t just a name anymore.

It’s her.

It’s actually her.

Jake Williams’s little sister.

Kenzie.

The woman I shouldn’t have touched.

The woman I sure as hell shouldn’t have fucked.

The woman who is now looking at me with wide, horrified eyes—

Like she just figured it out, too.