Page 30

I stare at the phone in my hand, the contact information of my head coach, Mitch Thompson, pulled up on the screen.

We have film this morning and practice this afternoon, and I feel like I need to get this off my chest. I can’t stay married to Savannah a moment longer, particularly not after the few times I’ve visited Coax.

I haven’t been in this business long, but it gets lonely feeling like people only want me for what I can do for them. But everyone at Coax has those same sorts of advantages—and disadvantages—and I find myself with new friends because of that bond. I’ve made plans outside of this place with some of them, whether it’s charity events or golf games or workouts.

And even though I haven’t really taken advantage of all the club has to offer, I find myself a little less lonely when I get to go. It’s better than the nightclubs filled with gold-digging, celebrity-chasing tourists…like my wife.

I sigh as I force myself back to the moment at the thought of her. If I confess my side of the story to Coach first before Savannah blows it up, I have the best odds of coming out of this whole thing fairly unscathed.

My finger is millimeters away from clicking the call button when Savannah saunters into the room.

I blow out a breath as I click off my phone.

“Good morning, my sweet husband,” she says, her voice syrupy and gross this early.

I don’t respond.

“I have the best gossip. Want to hear it?”

“No, I don’t,” I admit.

“It’s about your little ex-girlfriend,” she singsongs.

My brows dip. I won’t admit she’s piqued my interest, but I’m curious to know which ex she’s dangling in front of me right now.

“Tessa,” she clarifies.

“Leave her the fuck alone,” I mutter.

“I have left her alone, Tristan.” She sets a hand on her hip. “But I’ve done a little digging—okay, a lot of digging—and I found some very interesting information that I think you of all people would want to know.”

I’ve told Savannah exactly nothing about Tessa, so the fact that she knows her name is still a mystery to me. But that’s what Savannah does. Her investigative superpowers could be used for good or evil, and since she’s the devil incarnate, she chooses evil. Every time.

“I don’t care what you found,” I lie. It doesn’t matter. Tessa is my past, my history, and you can’t change the past. So why bother giving Savannah the satisfaction of thinking she found something that I care about?

“I’m just saying this is the type of thing you really won’t want getting out in the media. You’ve already got the HGH issue, and if I toss this news on top, you’ll have a hard time coming back from the label, you know?”

What the fuck is she talking about?

How could something that happened to Tessa affect me in any way? I haven’t even talked to the girl since my senior year of high school. It’s been seven years. Life moves on, and every day Savannah proves to me that I took the wrong goddamn path when I married her.

I stand up. “Leave Tessa alone, all right?” I walk out of the room, but not before I hear her parting shot.

“Okay. I’ll just hold onto it for a rainy day. But if you think a four-game suspension would be bad, you might want to think twice before you run to Coach and tell him about the test results I have in my possession given all the things I’ve recently learned.”

She’s bluffing.

She has to be bluffing.

But all the same, she’s got me wondering what the fuck she’s talking about, and her threats are enough to make me think twice about pressing that call button…for now, at least.

I feel this strange need to protect Tessa at all costs. If she’s holding onto some secret that includes me, that’s her choice. If she wanted me to know it, she would’ve told me.

I respect her choice not to tell me, and knowing that Savannah is digging around her makes me physically ill.

I need to get the fuck away from Savannah, but where do I go?

I can’t go anywhere right now. I’m in season.

But depending on our post-season schedule, I have less than two months left. Less than two months where every minute of every day is planned for me. Less than two months of getting my ass kicked on the field and hoping it’s not kicked hard enough that I won’t be able to perform the following week.

Less than two months until freedom. But that also means less than two months until I feel that familiar sense of not knowing who the fuck I am without the game…until my next identity crisis.

The more I think about it, the more I want to get out of Vegas a while. I want to go back to Fallon Ridge, where I felt at peace for the first time in a long time.

She won’t be there, and maybe that’s okay. Maybe I don’t want her to be.

I just want to stay with my parents and leave my responsibilities behind me a while. I’d been avoiding Fallon Ridge for far too long, but Tessa didn’t define the town. Sure, she’s wrapped up in a lot of my memories there, but she moved in when I was twelve. That means for twelve years before her, it was my home.

I’m starting to wonder if I should just get back to my roots…if that’ll be the thing that helps me figure out how to get out of Savannah’s grasp. There’s always that possibility, and being away from her while also being with my parents—the two people who love me more than anybody, who want the best for me more than anybody—might be exactly what I need in the off-season. It won’t just give me a chance to reset. It’ll give me a chance to talk about my future. My parents might even be able to help me formulate a plan that will allow me to move ahead with the divorce.

And if not, well…at least I’ll get some breathing room.

I’m not banking on it, but with Tessa’s mother being in Fallon Ridge all alone, there’s always the possibility that Tessa will come back home to visit.

And that would lead to the possibility of talking, of reconnecting…of her telling me whatever Savannah seems to know about her before Savannah gets the chance to.