Page 82 of Trade It All

Please be okay.

I hit the office hallway at a full sprint and spot her door at the very end.

Closed.

My heart slams so hard it feels like it stops completely.

And I run faster.

Chapter 35

Maddie

LeavingDeaninthehallway when we first get to the arena takes more effort than it should.

He keeps finding reasons to slow me down.

Questions I know he doesn’t need answers to. Comments meant for no purpose other than stretching out the seconds before I walk away from him. By the third one, I stop, plant my hand on my hip, and give him a look that makes him sigh like I’m the unreasonable one.

“Coach,” I warn.

His mouth twitches. Mine almost does too. Almost.

God, I love this man.

Even when he’s being impossible.

I squeeze his hand once where no one can see and force myself to step away before I let him drag me into one more kiss in some dark corner of the arena.

Work first. Feelings later.

The next twenty minutes pass the way they always do on game day.

I snag footage of Luka swaggering in with headphones on and that cocky grin that fans lose their minds over. Jake carries Matty in through the side employee entrance before handing him back to Penelope with a kiss to both their heads. Grady pretends to hate when I shove the camera in his face but still gives me a smirk because he knows exactly what clips perform well.

Routine. Easy. Normal.

By the time I get back to my office, my nerves have settled enough that I almost feel stupid for how hard Dean was spiraling this morning. Everything is fine.

I set my camera bag on the floor, wake my computer, and start transferring clips while mentally sorting what I need next.

Pregame locker room shot. Jake clip. Family row. Easy.

I’m halfway through labeling files when it happens.

The air changes. I don’t know how else to explain it. One second I’m staring at my screen. The next every tiny hair on my arms lifts. My body goes cold before my brain catches up.

I glance up. Tyler is standing in my doorway.

And before I can even fully process that he is here—inside my office—he turns and pushes the door shut behind him.

The soft click sounds like a gunshot.

My heart slams once. Hard. But I force my face to stay neutral. Force my voice to stay calm.

“What are you doing here?”

Tyler laughs like this is amusing, like he didn’t just walk into my private office in the middle of my workplace like a psychopath.