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I make it to Coax in record time, my tires squealing as I throw the truck in park and leap out.

God, I hope he’s not on the third floor. I hope I don’t catch him with his pants down—literally. I hope he’s not here with some other woman as retaliation against his would-be bride’s secrets. He doesn’t seem like the type that would do that, but who knows what the hell goes on here?

I walk toward the front door and the security guard there recognizes me from previous visits. He waves me in. I hand my phone to Heidi, the receptionist in the front room, and she waves me into the next room. I glance around for Troy, but the place is empty and I don’t see him. It’s early on a Saturday evening. I’m sure this place will be hopping later tonight, but not quite yet.

I make my way into the next room—the lounge that sort of reminds me of a study with its bookcases and wingback armchairs and couches and pool tables. I glance all around. Two men sit in the wingback chairs near the window chatting with tumblers in their palms. A couple plays pool at one of the tables. Nobody stands by the bar, and the bartender appears to be looking at some paperwork. This is probably the one room I’d be most comfortable having this conversation, but no dice in here, either.

My heart pounds as I make my way up to the second floor, praying I find him watching the strippers since if I don’t, that likely means he’s somewhere on the third floor.

I don’t. In fact, nobody is on this floor at all. The stage is dark, and I’m guessing it doesn’t open until later tonight.

Before I go up to the third floor to look for him, I head back down to Heidi in reception.

“Have you seen Troy?” I ask.

“Is there a message I can deliver for you?” she asks rather than answering my question.

I shake my head. “I need to see him.”

She studies me for a beat, and then she nods. “He’s up in his office. I’ll let him know you’re here.” She picks up a phone and dials in, and a moment later she says, “You have a guest in reception.”

He appears a minute later. He’s still wearing his tuxedo, and so am I, and I can’t help but wonder how much Heidi knows. I’m not sure why that’s where my mind goes, but she’s always here. She has to have some sort of relationship with her boss, right? Does she know he was supposed to get married today? Does she know he ran out on his own wedding?

He looks…agitated. The opposite of the low-stress environment we were supposed to be providing for him. Clearly this is hitting him in some way, and I’m not sure if it’s because of the secrets we’ve all been keeping or the brand-new knowledge that his best friend is banging his daughter.

But it’s so much more than that, and I just need to make him understand.

“Can we talk?” I ask.

“I have nothing to say to you. We will communicate only on the field going forward. You are no longer welcome in my club, so you may kindly see yourself out.” His tone is firm, and he turns to leave the room.

I can’t let him just run away.

My eyes edge over to Heidi. Fuck it. He’s not giving me a choice. “I fell in love with her before I knew she was your daughter,” I say to his back.

He freezes, and I grab onto the opportunity with both hands even though Heidi is listening to us. I no longer care who knows. The one person we were trying hardest to keep it from found out, and I’m sure Heidi has signed a pretty extensive and intense NDA anyway.

“I met her the weekend you brought me to town to ask me to play for the Heat. It was an instant connection. She didn’t know who I was, and there was something so pure about that. I didn’t know who she was, either. I didn’t even know you had a daughter.”

He turns around to face me, and his eyes are hard and flinty again. His mouth is a thin line, and I can feel the anger vibrating off him from here.

“You’ve been with her since August?”

I plow forward. “We spent the entire weekend together, and she came to see me the next weekend in San Diego. She helped me look for a house before I moved here. You don’t share the same last name, and in those three weeks, I fell for her. I didn’t find out she was your daughter until the morning after you threw that party for me when I first moved to town. I broke it off with her as soon as I found out, but when the feelings are this strong, this intense…” I shake my head. “We were just drawn to one another. We couldn’t fight it.”

“So you’re saying it’s love,” he says flatly.

“It’s big, Troy. I’ve never felt like this before,” I admit. “She is it for me.”

“That’s fucking ridiculous,” he spits. “You’re twelve years older than her. When she was in kindergarten, you were graduating high school. It’s practically illegal. You’re taking advantage of her because she doesn’t know any better. It’s wrong, and it’s disgusting, and you better fucking believe I will choose to act in the best interest of my daughter over anyone else. Always. That includes you.” He points at me then folds his arms over his chest. “And that includes the team. You signed a contract. You made commitments. You may have fucked up our friendship, but you will not fuck up our team over this. I was hired to manage game play, not players, but if you don't break it off with her before we leave for spring training, I will go to Mike and blow it up myself. What’s it going to be, Noah?”

I don’t know what he means by going to Mike to blow it up himself—does he mean he’ll blow up my reputation? My chance to play again? Or will he ruin his own daughter’s chance at the full-time job she’s on track to start after she graduates?

It doesn’t matter.

He’s right. I signed a contract, and I can’t back out of it. It’s that goddamn sense of responsibility rearing its ugly head again, and I know he’s right. My heart says to choose Gabby over everything, over everyone else. That’s what I want to do. But my brain knows that I made a commitment to the team, and I can’t back out of it…not now. Not when I have thirty-nine other guys on the forty-man roster depending on me. Not when I have an entire expansion team depending on me from the grounds crew all the way up to the front office staff. An entire fucking city depending on me to lead this team to victory in our inaugural season.

Maybe she can wait three years for me until I play out my contract…or maybe we’re the star-crossed lovers who were always destined to have only a short time together, and maybe we’re supposed to be grateful for what we were allowed to have.

It was the best six months of my life. She is the love of my life.

But I don’t have a choice.

I signed a contract, and I committed to leading the team.

I have to end it with her before I leave for Arizona in the morning.