The Endgame Is You (Rixon Raiders #4) - L A Cotton Page 0,41

of these kids have experienced enough trauma to warrant a lifetime of therapy. You said he was getting professional support?”

I nodded. “Someone has been working with him at school. But so far, nothing.”

“Know what I think?” He leaned down, touching his head to mine.

“What?”

“The little guy will talk when he’s good and ready.”

“I wish it were that simple.” My shoulders sagged.

“Maybe he just needs a reason to talk.”

“What do you mean?” It was my turn to frown.

“Maybe he needs some motivation, and I’m not talking getting a sticker or lollipop at the end of a session with the school shrink.”

“Like a bribe?”

“Let’s call it gentle persuasion.”

“Actually,” I said, an idea forming. “You might be onto something.”

“Yeah?” Asher grinned. “And here was me thinking I was talking complete crap.”

“There’s this intervention a lot of schools use called the ‘mystery motivator’. I might be able to adapt it.”

“Sounds good. You said he likes football, right? Maybe we could arrange something once the season starts? Bring the kids out to a training session or even a game.”

“You’d do that for them?”

“For you, babe. I’d do it for you.” He kissed the end of my nose.

Ideas started firing off in my head. The only time Hugo even looked remotely interested in me was when I’d mentioned my boyfriend played college football. I’d tried to incorporate football into our activities and conversations as much as I could without coming on too strong. It was important to go at Hugo’s pace, to gradually earn his trust.

“I’ll talk to Sally and see what she thinks. Thank you.” I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him. Asher grew hard against my stomach, and I eased back to look at him. “Seriously?” I smirked.

“What? My dick just so happens to be very, very attracted to you.”

“Well, I hate to be a buzz kill…” I let my mouth linger on his, running my tongue over the seam of his lips. “But I have an early class.” Slipping out from between Asher and the counter, I grabbed my bowl and sashayed away.

“You’re killing me, Hernandez,” he called after me.

“Love you too,” I replied around a smile.

Because I did.

I loved Asher the way the stars loved the night.

Unconditionally.

Irrevocably.

Endlessly.

Asher

“Bennet, get in here, son,” Coach Johnson called as I passed his office.

“What’s up, Coach?”

“Just checking in. Wanted to see how you’re feeling about the upcoming season?”

“I feel good, sir. The team is looking strong. I think we might have a real shot going into the playoffs.”

“I agree. That kind of attention will bring scouts. You’re a junior now, son. It’s time to make some decisions about your future.”

“Already made them, sir.”

“I thought you might say that.” He rubbed his jaw. “But I’d hoped to convince you to reconsider. When scouts come knocking, I’d really like your name on their list.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, sir. Going pro isn’t in my plans.”

“Well, shucks, Bennet. Never thought I’d see the day a talented young man such as yourself would give up a shot at the big leagues for a woman.”

“She’s not just any woman, sir.” A smirk played on my lips.

“No, son, I guess she’s not.” There was no malice in his expression; just mild disappointment, and a shit ton of respect.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t the answer you’d hoped for, Coach.”

“Me too, son. Me too. Now get out of here.”

I gave him a nod and walked out of there. I knew the guys wouldn’t understand, but it wasn’t their life.

Back in senior year, at high school, I’d watched my mom almost die from a bullet meant for me. I’d watched the fear in my old man’s eyes as he held the one woman who had always stood by his side, despite his flaws—and he had many. I’d made a promise to myself that day if Mya ever gave me a second chance—which she had—I would never do anything to jeopardize that.

Mya wanted a career, she wanted to make a difference. Her plans didn’t include being with an NFL football player. And I didn’t want anything that didn’t include her. I wanted roots, a life together. I didn’t want to be thrust into a world of football and fame.

Exiting the gym, I pulled out my cell and scrolled to my dad’s number.

“Asher, this is a surprise,” he said.

“Hey, Dad. I was hoping we could talk.”

“Is everything okay, Son? You sound—”

“Everything’s great. There’s just some stuff I need your help with.”

“Okay.” He took a breath. “You want to talk about it now or should

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