own bodies every day to get better and work harder and earn another championship.” I quieted. “Someone has to protect them from you.”
He wasn’t threatened. “So what will you do? Release the pictures now? And what would happen to Lachlan? I have every reason to let him go, Elle. Did he tell you he got into a fight with Jack Carson? Nearly broke my hundred-million-dollar quarterback’s nose?”
I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t imagine Lachlan in a fight—especially not with Jack. Theirs was a bromance made in heaven.
Peter turned on a television in the corner. He pointed to the time and date stamp. The least the traitor could have done was look at me while he twisted the knife.
“This is a recording from our security system, showing you, at the stadium, saving Lachlan Reed from a speeding car,” he said. “You were in the facility. You had a key to my office. You stole the SD card, and we need you to admit it.”
“You’re going to accuse me of theft so you can fire me?” I asked.
Coach Thompson nodded. “We have a zero tolerance policy regarding theft of any team equipment or intellectual property. Give me your badge. Security will escort you out.”
I slammed the ID card into the desk. “I don’t need security. After four loyal years, I think I can find my own way out.”
“We can’t have you nipping off with anything else, can we, Elle?”
Peter attempted to guide me from the office. I didn’t let him touch me.
The security guards, Bryant and Roger, had no idea why they escorted me to my car, but undoubtedly Coach Thompson wanted the team to see them with me.
That humiliation stung. Worse than the blackmail, worse than the entire team catching me naked in the shower.
I never thought I’d be escorted away, tail between my legs, forced from the one place that always felt like home. Fortunately, most of the guys were on the fields.
Lachlan didn’t seem them haul me away.
And I’d be forever grateful for that.
But this wasn’t over. No way.
I couldn’t let them win now, not when Lachlan’s position was in such jeopardy.
There had to be a way for me to still protect everyone, including the man I loved.
The shame and frustration and rage twisted inside me. I made it home, but I couldn’t get any farther than the bathroom. The morning sickness purged some of the betrayal from me, but I let myself cry. Just for a few minutes. Just until the cool tile soothed my fevered skin and I could devise some sort of plan to save the Rivets from themselves.
Which was super hard to do from the bathroom floor.
By early evening, I’d managed to shuffle to the kitchen for a handful of grapes. Some stayed down, but so did I. I made a little nest in the bathroom and rested in my own self-pity.
Lachlan banged on my door. I’d expected him, but I wasn’t risking the few grapes I’d managed to eat. I texted him to come inside.
It looked worse than it was. I curled up on the fuzzy bath mat, cradling my head on the waterproof pillow I kept in the tub. Grapes were everywhere, mostly smooshed between the pages of the What to Expect When You’re Expecting book I’d bought. I cradled my camera like I’d been taking some weird, avant garde pregnancy project, and I was still working to fit that other slipper on my foot. It took me half an hour to get the first one on, but damn it, I was trying.
Lachlan stared at me, arms outstretched. “What the fuck happened? Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?”
“My morning sickness decided to throw a party that lasted all day.” I licked my lips. “I’m thirsty?”
He panicked, but just enough to make my life a little harder.
Lachlan leapt into the tub and grabbed the shower sprayer that had been my best investment before accidentally marrying him. He turned on the shower. Like a surprised puppy, Lachlan yelped when the cold water sprayed him right in the groin. After a confused moment, he adjusted the setting on the sprayer, aimed the water into the tub, and offered it to me like I’d sip from a water fountain.
Or we could be adults.
I pointed to the bottle of water on my sink—the one not currently flooding my bathroom like a hurricane’s storm surge.
“Oh.” Lachlan handed it to me. He turned off the shower and removed his shirt, wringing out the wetness.
I shook my head. “Okay,