I nod. “Not my circus, not my monkeys. I’m here to play football. And if you think I’ve got my head wrapped up in anything other than that, you don’t know me at all.”

The words flee from my mouth with a ring of truth. That’s because my head isn’t wrapped up in Parker. My heart is.

The phone vibrates again. Coach stares, challenging me. I reach for my iced tea instead.

“I actually should get going,” I say. “We’ve got that gala tonight.”

A rip-roaring laugh pummels out of Coach’s chest. “When have you ever gone to a gala?”

He’s right. I never went to anything like this when I was out in LA playing for the Bulls. But what Coach doesn’t know is that Nick originally axed my idea of just donating and insisted I buy a table and show myself in good light.

“First time for everything.” I put down my glass.

Coach hums. “Well, while you’re busy in your tux, I’ll head to the facility and get a look at some film before draft day. Need a high pick cornerback.”

I scoff. “Come on. You can’t be serious about not picking Todd back up.”

Coach doesn’t say anything.

“He’s a top player in the League. You can’t just replace him because you guys butt heads.”

“I can replace him because he’s an overpaid pussy.”

I’ve never played with or against a cornerback I thought was a pussy.

Coach comes around the table, patting me on the shoulder. “Thanks for lunch. Good luck with your dance tonight.”

I run my hand over my face when my phone vibrates again.

Parker

?

Furrowing my brow, I type my response as I ask for the check.

Sorry. Back in a bit.

Parker

How much is a bit, exactly?

10 min maybe. All good?

Parker

Yes and no.

Tossing cash in the bill envelope, I leave the table, heading outside and call her. “What’s wrong?”

I can hear her take a deep breath, but only silence follows.

“You can’t answer on the fourth ring and not tell me what’s wrong.”

Parker sighs. “I just need a hand. Can you hurry?”

I begin to walk briskly. “You’re okay though?”

“Yeah. I can’t reach something.”

I lift my hand when a car honks at me as I cross the street. “If you can’t wait, there’s a stepladder⁠—”

“Fitz.” Parker groans. “I’m stuck in my dress and can’t reach the zipper.”

“That’s urgent? I almost got hit by a car for you because you’re stuck in your dress?”

Parker huffs. “Never mind. I’ll go and ask Agent Samuels⁠—”

“Don’t.” I almost get hit by a second car and barely make it across the street before the light changes. “I’m coming. Hang tight.”