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Rather than calling Coach, I draft a text to him. I stare at it a beat before I send it. Once it’s drifting through the cyberverse or however these things work, I can’t take it back. I’ll have to tell him the truth, and then I’ll have to face the consequences.

But it’s okay.

I’m ready.

Me: Can we talk when you have a free minute?

I figure this way I’m not interrupting him, and he can get back to me when he has time. He’s probably down in the Florida Keys out on his boat or enjoying his second home there.

My phone rings nearly immediately after I click send, and this is what I mean when I say Coach has created a family for his team. His players are as important to him as his own kids.

“Hey, Coach,” I answer.

“What’s going on, Higgins?”

“I have some things I need to say, and while it’s probably the worst possible timing, I need to get it out in the open so we can move forward with a plan.” It occurs to me after the words leave my mouth that it may have been better to talk to Ellie first, to warn her that I’m going to do this, that she may be facing some trouble regarding the client who gives her the least amount of trouble.

Even to warn her about exactly what Savannah has on me.

But it’s too late now.

“All right…” he says, trailing off the word as he braces himself for whatever I’m about to tell him.

“The woman I married slipped me HGH then had me drug tested. She’s been holding the positive results over me for two years as insurance I will stay married to her, but I can’t stay with her a second longer.” The words come out in a rush, and I feel better the instant I make my confession, like I’m finally telling the truth to somebody who can actually help me figure out a solution rather than telling it to somebody who can merely sympathize with me.

“Wow,” he mutters. “That’s a lot to take in. So you’ve kept quiet about this for two years?”

“I’ve given in to her demands so I don’t have to miss playing time, sir.” I stand so I can pace around the room as we talk, and then I remember what a terrible idea that is as my hamstring screams at me for mercy. I collapse back down onto the couch. “I can’t afford a four-game suspension.”

“Frankly, neither can our offense,” he says, and I feel a rush of pride at his words—and a rush of satisfaction as he basically confirms that the Aces are going to take my option. “But wait a minute…isn’t she on probation for what she did to Jack Dalton?”

“Yeah, for three years.” All three involved in the conspiracy against Jack pled their way out of jail time—unfortunate for me, though I’m not sure what schemes Savannah may have cooked up if she was sitting in a prison cell. “But I’m not sure it matters. Everything I’ve heard from Jack and the other guys who’ve faced blackmail tells me the courts are too busy dealing with bigger issues to convict for emotional blackmail.”

“While that may be true, most of those blackmailers aren’t on probation. It might be your loophole kid. You really didn’t think of that?”

“I did, and I’ve even threatened her with it, but she just laughed in my face and said the courts didn’t care about this type of thing. I believed her after that chick who was staying at Jack’s place and had recorded his conversations was let off with a slap on the wrist,” I explain.

“That was true for her because she never actually used what she had as blackmail. She was planning to, but she never got the chance. This thing with Savannah is different. She is actually holding evidence against you and threatening to reveal it if you don’t submit to her demands, and it doesn’t matter whether she’s using physical threats or emotional. Extortion and coercion are both illegal, and she will get prison time if she’s proven guilty,” he says. “Could you potentially use that to get her to back down?”

My mind kicks into gear. “I could certainly give it a try, but I don’t have proof she’s doing this to me. Besides, I’d guess she has a back-up plan, and she may go to the league with her evidence. I just want you to be prepared either way.”

“I appreciate that. And I’ve got a few tricks of my own up my sleeve.” He chuckles, and I can’t help but hope his tricks are on par with hers. She’s got it coming, that’s for damn sure. “Listen, kid. Get some hard evidence of what she’s doing, and we’ll take it from there.”

“I also wanted to tell you that I pulled my hamstring this morning running sprints with the boys at my old high school,” I say.

“Aren’t you in Iowa? What the fuck are you doing running sprints in the cold? You know better!” he scolds me.

“Running in the cold is great for endurance,” I protest.

“Yeah, long-distance running, you dope. Not sprinting.”

I sigh. “I’m sorry. I have a friend…she’s a nurse, and she’s willing to help me rehab it. It’ll be fine in time for camp.”

“You sure you want to be admitting all this to me with your fifth-year option on the line?” he asks.

“I just want to do the right thing and give you the whole story, Coach,” I say softly. I have to hope my honesty scores me points in a different column since my stupidity is clearly taking marks off elsewhere.

“I appreciate that. And it’s not official yet, but we’re taking the option, kid. Of course we are, and I thought you should know. We will be here to support you through whatever that wife of yours has up her sleeve. You hear me?” he asks.

“I appreciate that more than you know, Coach.”

“Get that hamstring better, get untangled from that awful woman, and get ready for workouts next month.”

Next month . Those voluntary but not really voluntary team activities. He isn’t letting me glide by until camp in July.

I’m not sure I was planning on going, but now, after this conversation, it’s looking like I have to.

“Sounds good, Coach,” I lie, and then we cut the call.

It feels good to know I have his support, and while part of me wants to wait until the ink is dry on my new contract before I rock the boat with Savannah, just the tiniest glimmer of a picture of Tessa making its way into my subconsciousness makes me think twice about that.

The sooner I untangle myself from that awful woman, the better. I’m ready to get her out of my life however I can…and if that means I need to man up and take the consequences of what she did to me, well, then so be it.

I’ve always known I’d do anything for Tessa, and that still holds true. I don’t care what happened all those years ago.

I pull on my metaphorical boxing gloves and I step into the metaphorical ring.

I’m ready. It’s fucking on.