COACH (Boston Terriers Book 3)

by Jacob Chance

  COACH

  Boston Terriers #3

  Jacob Chance

  Copyright © 2018 Jacob Chance

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This novel is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to people either living or deceased, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are only used for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

  Cover design by PopKitty Designs

  Edited by Shauna Stevenson

  Proofreading by Hawkeyes Proofing

  This book contains mature content.

  “Talent sets the floor, character sets the ceiling.”

  Bill Belichick

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Chapter One

  2. Chapter Two

  3. Chapter Three

  4. Chapter Four

  5. Chapter Five

  6. Chapter Six

  7. Chapter Seven

  8. Chapter Eight

  9. Chapter Nine

  10. Chapter Ten

  11. Chapter Eleven

  12. Chapter Twelve

  13. Chapter Thirteen

  14. Chapter Fourteen

  15. Chapter Fifteen

  16. Chapter Sixteen

  17. Chapter Seventeen

  18. Chapter Eighteen

  19. Chapter Nineteen

  20. Chapter Twenty

  21. Chapter Twenty-One

  22. Chapter Twenty-Two

  23. Chapter Twenty-Three

  24. Chapter Twenty-Four

  25. Chapter Twenty-Five

  26. Chapter Twenty-Six

  27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  TACKLE

  PROLOGUE

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Zeke

  Fourteen months ago

  The rubber soles of my sneakers are silent on the thick carpet as I slip inside the dark apartment. Setting my keys down on the small table by the door, I head toward my girlfriend’s bedroom feeling more relaxed than I have in a long time. Clutching a mixed bouquet of flowers in my hand, I muse how things between Claire and I have been strained for the past couple of months. I’m not sure why - there’s no concrete reason. Maybe it’s the added pressure we both have weighing on us with college graduation rapidly approaching. We’ve reached another level of adulthood and the new responsibilities it brings.

  Claire has been concerned about what comes next, but I’m hoping the news I rushed over to share will allay any fears she’s been harboring.

  More excited about the future than I’ve been in ages, my smile grows wider with each step I take. I was just offered my dream job and this is a giant leap toward the two of us spending the rest of our lives together. Tough times or not, I know without a doubt she’s the girl for me. I plan on asking her to move into our own place as soon as we graduate from Boston University, and then shortly after I’ll ask her to marry me.

  My fingers wrap around the cool, metal knob, the plastic wrap of the bouquet crinkles in my other hand as I pause, imagining what I’ll find on the other side. Will she have on those tiny, blue panties I love, or the equally sexy sleep shorts that frame the bottom curves of her ass cheeks so perfectly? I’m getting hard just thinking about it.

  Pushing the door open, what I imagined I’d find and what I do couldn’t be further apart. Claire’s fair, unblemished skin is illuminated by the bedside lamp and without a stitch of clothing. Fully on display, she’s riding the cock of some guy I’ve never seen before. The roar of rage leaves me before I can suppress it. My feet are in motion stalking toward them without being cognizant I’m moving.

  She shrieks, rapidly scrambling over the stranger in a state of panic. “Zeke, it’s not what it looks like.” She climbs off the mattress and instinctively holds her hands up to create a wall between us.

  “Shut up,” I yell. “You’re fucking dead.” I point at the dude who’s slipping off the other side of the bed. He grabs his jeans, tugging them on without hesitation, his eyes wild and fear filled.

  “Zeke, no.” Claire steps in front of me. “Don’t,” she implores, tears welling in her large eyes. “Don’t hurt him,” she sobs.

  She cares about this guy? Son of a bitch.

  “How long has this been going on?” I clench and unclench my fists repeatedly as I fight to control the angry red haze taking over.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is the first time.”

  “Don’t fucking lie to me,” I shout. “I deserve better than that, Claire.”

  “Three months,” the fucker declares, straightening up and standing taller. He moves around the foot of the bed to stand at Claire’s side. His arm wraps around her shoulders offering support. Maybe he wants to get his ass beat after all. I’m ready, willing, and able.

  The pain of her deceit grips my chest like a vise. “Three months?” I echo incredulously in a raspy whisper. My gaze flicks to Claire for confirmation.

  She nods and bites into her bottom lip, standing there naked as the day she came into this world. My gaze doesn’t wander over the petite body I’ve come to know so well. The same one I’ve traced over every inch of with my mouth and made tremble with my cock. Instead, my eyes remain on her traitorous, deceitful, tear filled ones.

  “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, but didn’t know how.” Her voice wavers with emotion. Maybe it’s guilt.

  “Save it.” I shake my head. “Save it for some other sucker. I’m done with you,” I spit out the words as if they’re poison, my upper lip curled distastefully. Taking two steps forward, my fist snaps out hitting the sweet spot on this fucker’s chin. The sound and impact of my fist meeting his face is satisfying, but not nearly enough. He instantly falls to the ground unconscious like he’s been anesthetized. It’s all I can do to hold myself back from kicking this piece of shit’s supine form. God knows, it’s the least he deserves.

  “Paul,” Claire cries, sinking to the floor beside him. My teeth clench so tightly together, my molars creak in protest.

  His name is Paul? Who is this asshole and how did she meet him?

  “How could you?” she questions, accusation flashing in her narrowed stare.

  “How could I?” I slap my chest, eyes wide with surprise. “How could you?” My tone is filled with repulsion as I point at her.

  A glint of shame shows on her face so brief I’m not sure if I imagined it. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking on my part. I’d like to think she had reservations about screwing around on me, but right now I’m not sure. I’m no longer fucking sure about anything.

  “I didn’t mean for this to happen. We were in a class together and we developed feelings for each other,” Claire blurts out, interrupting my contemplation of this unbelievably shitty situation.

  Fuck. Why is she telling me this?

  I don’t need or want the details of when she fell for someone else. “He didn’t mind being the other guy?” I inquire, crossing my arms over my thick chest. Maybe I would like t
o know. I sure as hell deserve to.

  She lowers her eyes, shamefully. “I was planning on breaking up with you after graduation.”

  “Why not do it right away? Why prolong the inevitable?”

  “I still care for you, Zeke. I’m just not in love with you.”

  Ouch. Pain slices through my chest like she’s cut me with a razor. My heart is shredded by those seven words. She can never undo the damage. There’s no way to lessen the sting of her betrayal.

  Stepping backward, I put some distance between us. “I’ll pack up your things that are at my place and drop them off outside your door this weekend.” Outwardly I’m devoid of all emotion, but inwardly my bloody and bruised heart has been battered beyond recognition.

  “I’ll do the same and leave them in the hallway. When you drop my stuff off, grab yours at the same time,” she states logically. She’s way too calm about the demise of our relationship.

  Didn’t I mean anything to her?

  “Can I get my key back?” she questions, dropping another bomb on me. What the fuck? Who is this heartless person? Is she trying to shatter what little remains of my heart?

  “Don’t worry, I’ll leave it on the table.”

  “I wasn’t worried. We don’t have to turn this into something ugly, Zeke.”

  Is she on drugs? Did she hit her head? Has she been taken over by aliens? None of the things she’s saying make any sense.

  “It’s a little too late for that, Claire. We’re way beyond ugly. This whole situation is disgusting and you have no one to blame for your behavior but yourself. I’ve always done right by you.”

  Paul lets out a low groan and begins to stir on the floor. “Babe,” she calls out, tenderly brushing the hair from his forehead.

  My eyes squeeze shut, but not quick enough to miss her loving display of affection, and now it’s all I see in my mind. Fire burns in my stomach and pulses through my veins like an inferno. My hands flex in reaction. I want to break something - destroy everything around us - everything that means something to her.

  “Zeke,” she whispers my name.

  My eyes fly open. Raking a hand through my black hair, I inhale raggedly. “What?”

  “I think you should get going.” She gestures at Paul as he opens his eyes and blinks repeatedly. “I don’t want anymore problems.”

  “I didn’t want my girlfriend fucking another guy, but we don’t always get what we want now, do we?”

  Chapter One

  Zeke

  Present Day

  The late afternoon sun blazes down on the pedestrians with the scorching intensity of hellfire. My dark hair absorbs the rays and my scalp burns as I make my way to the T station. Loosening the knot on my navy tie, I slip it over my head and tuck the length into the front pocket of my black dress pants. Sweat trickles down both sides of my forehead as I pop open the buttons and roll back the cuffs of my long sleeves until each forearm is exposed.

  Strolling along with the familiar flow of people the end of the work day brings to the Boston sidewalks, I take a deep breath and enjoy the distinct scent of the local eateries. Italian, Chinese, and American cuisine. I can smell them all and my stomach growls angrily in response. A smile lifts the corners of my lips, life is good. I have a job I enjoy as a financial planner, a roof over my head, plenty of money in the bank, and anything else I might need. Not bad for only being out of college for one year.

  Glancing at my watch, I check to see if I have time to grab a quick bite before I have to catch the commuter rail. The peal of an all too familiar giggle trills from somewhere behind me and my stomach clenches in reaction. I have to fist my hands to stop myself from turning around.

  Keep walking. It might not even be her.

  I stop short when the lady in front of me drops her bag. Bending down, I retrieve a dog-eared paperback with one hand and snatch up a bottle of spring water before it rolls away. Straightening up, I hand them off to the older woman with a smile as she thanks me.

  “Zeke?” A female voice I’d know anywhere calls my name. Her surprise at seeing me is evident in her tone.

  “Claire.” My reply is curt as I shove my hands in my front pockets and look over my ex-girlfriend. She looks the same, but her beauty is a shell masking a shallow, unloyal, and fickle soul.

  “How have you been?”

  “I’m good, thanks.” I nod stiffly and press my lips together. It’s the closest I come to a smile.

  She totters closer to me on high heels and I catch a whiff of her floral perfume. Smell is the most powerful sense and instantly calls up memories associated with it. Snapshots of our happiest moments assault my mind.

  The first time we kissed outside of her dorm. I was already so sure we were meant to be together.

  The two of us swimming and splashing in Lake Winnipesaukee when I took her for a long weekend. We spent so much time in the water I thought the wrinkled skin would never disappear.

  Cuddling and watching movies at my apartment whenever we didn’t want to go out. She had a list of romantic comedies we were working our way through. I haven’t watched one since we broke up.

  Battling myself, I fight the urge to step forward and breathe in her familiar scent. I refuse to think about the happier days. Whatever good times we had were annihilated when she fucked someone else. I retreat a step, placing some distance between us. I don’t want to be anywhere near Claire. If I never saw her again it would still be too soon.

  “How’ve you been?” I question politely, but I really don’t want to know and I sure as shit don’t care.

  She smiles when our eyes meet. “Great, thanks. Things couldn’t be better.” She gleefully rubs salt in the wounds she inflicted. They may be healing, but they’re still there. “You remember Paul.” she grips the arm of the unnoticed person standing next to her.

  My narrowing eyes flick in his direction. “Yeah, last time I saw him he was naked. I might need to see his ass to remember for sure.” Son of a bitch. As if seeing her wasn’t painful enough, now I know they’re still together. “Wait a minute.” I hold up my fist. “I recognize that glass jaw.” I smirk and nod toward his chin.

  Extending her left hand to me, she wiggles her fingers. “We got engaged last month,” she gushes, as if I didn’t just sling an insult his way. I’m stunned he remains mute and doesn’t tell me to fuck off. What a pussy.

  “Congratulations. I hope you both get everything you deserve.” My tone is the sincerest I’m capable of under the circumstances. If justice exists, they’ll get what they deserve. Nodding tightly, I resume my walk to the T station.

  “Nice seeing you, Zeke,” Claire calls out, but I don’t acknowledge her words. Keeping my eyes focused forward, I put distance between us as quickly as possible.

  I know our breakup was for the best and looking back with the twenty-twenty vision hindsight provides, I realize our split was inevitable. We would’ve gone our separate ways somewhere down the road, but that doesn’t stop the fire in my chest that seeing her has stirred up. I don’t think I’ll ever get over the burn of her deceitfulness. When you spend three years of your life with someone, you assume they’re staying with you by choice and not a sense of obligation. If she’d only been honest, it would have spared me the added pain of walking in on them fucking. I could have done without the visual I’ll never be able to forget.

  Thirty minutes later finds me at home and freshly showered, kicked back on my couch with a much needed ice cold beer in hand. Bare feet propped up on the wooden coffee table, my head lies back on the soft cushion as I decompress from the stress of my day.

  Thank God it’s fucking Friday. I need the weekend to recover from the long days I’ve been putting in. Since Claire and I ended, I’ve been giving it my all at the office to avoid thinking about how much she fucked me over. It’s been great for my career, especially since my full-time job has been more demanding than usual. My part-time job as the offensive coordinator for the Boston Terriers is about to start again tomorrow morning
. Between both obligations, I’ll barely have time to do anything else.

  The coaching gig for the Terriers women’s football team fell into my lap at the perfect time, providing an added distraction I desperately needed. It also filled the void that no longer playing football created. I’ve always loved the game, but I had no idea I’d miss it as much as I do. And losing the team aspect of playing with all the guys was a big adjustment for me. I had no expectations of what coaching would be like, but it’s proving to be more than I thought. I could see myself doing this full-time if the opportunity ever presented itself.

  Originally, I took the coaching job to keep me busy when Claire and I first broke up. Now, I’m about to begin my second season working with the Terriers and my first as the offensive coordinator. As excited as I am about football starting up, I’m glad I don’t have to be at practice tonight. Seeing Claire fucked with my mind and I could use this time to chill and get my head on straight.

  The sound of keys jingling clues me in that my peace is about to end abruptly. I glance over my shoulder to see which of my roommates is about to ruin my solitude.

  “Hey, dad, I’m home,” Owen jokes as he walks in with a smirk lifting the left corner of his mouth. The door slams behind him with a deep crack.

  I give him a brief nod of my head. “Son,” I jest, but sometimes I do get perceived like I’m the old man of the group. Only a couple of years separate us in age, but maturity wise there might as well be a dozen. Both my roommates, Owen and Trevor, attend Boston University and play for the Terriers. For them, life is all about booze, pussy, and football and not necessarily in that order.