Chapter Twelve Archer
Chapter Twelve
Archer
At this time of the evening, the buildings were almost empty. Mostly maintenance staff, but there were still lights when I walked past the lobby of the executive-staff offices—the team owner, GM, head and assistant coaches.
The weight room had been empty, too, and I worked myself harder than I should have, considering I’d already done a workout that morning.
But my muscles felt better, holding none of the tension from earlier.
Every time I was around Remi, the energy around us was like an idling engine, and the longer it went on, my body braced for the moment we’d take off.
If I didn’t work through that, I couldn’t get the kind of release I wanted, so abusing my body with weights felt like the next best step.
It didn’t make sense to drive home, because I didn’t really have anything to do there, and if I showed up at the shelter unannounced, I had a feeling Remi would tell me to get my ass back in the car.
“Evans.”
At the sound of Coach King’s voice, I slowed, wishing I’d been just a little bit less of an asshole the last time we talked, but when I turned and saw his wife, Lily, at his side, my stomach crashed to the bottom of my feet.
They were hand in hand as they came down the hall from the area of his office.
Coach was a big dude, only an inch or so shorter than me, and still in the same shape as when he’d played.
His wife, Lily, was striking—tall and slim, jet-black hair, and piercing eyes that were locked right on me with an unreadable expression.
I knew why too.
She wasn’t the bubbly, outgoing wife you’d expect a head coach to have, but she’d earned the admiration of every single guy in the locker room over the last year. They’d recently welcomed twins, but if she was tired from taking care of the two babies, plus Coach’s two preteen kids, it didn’t show.
It was easy enough to recognize someone who kept their guard up like me, and when they approached, I sucked in a quick breath, lifting my chin like it might protect me if this went south.
“What are you doing here so late?” Coach asked.
“Decided to get another workout in.” I kept my hands loose by my sides. I gave Lily a quick nod. “Ma’am.”
She arched a dark eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with my attempt at manners. “I’m only two years older than you, dude.”
“Right.” My jaw clenched. “Mrs. King.”
“You can call me Lily,” she answered with a wry smile.
Coach glanced sideways at his wife, a soft smile playing around his lips. Lovesick.
Not that long ago, I might have scoffed, thought him weak for it. But now, all I felt was a curl of envy so deep that I knew it would never go away.
What was it like to be so at peace with yourself in a relationship with another person? Someone not related to you, someone who chose you?
“Not sure you need extra workouts,” Coach said. “You’re already bigger than you were the last time you played.”
“Just trying to be perfect when I come back, sir.”
“Sometimes when we chase perfection, we don’t see the damage we do as a result. Trust me.”
His eyes saw way too fucking much.
Lily gave him a quiet smile, wrapping her hand around his arm. But when she turned her sharp-eyed attention back to me, a chill coiled around my spine.
“You know my stepdaughter, Maggie.”
Everyone on the team did. Coach’s kids were always running around the facilities, but Maggie had ingrained herself in part of the Storm’s team culture—she regularly made cookies for practices and hosted a popular social media show where she interviewed players.
“Of course,” I answered. “I haven’t seen her much lately.”
Lily hummed. “The other night at dinner, she asked about interviewing you for Midfield with Maggie.”
Apprehension twisted my gut. Knowing that kid—smarter than she had any right to be—she’d sit me down in her infamous yellow chair and grill me like a cross-examiner. “She’s a good kid. But I don’t know if I’d be the best guest right now.”
Coach regarded me steadily from under the brim of his hat while his wife tilted her head in consideration. She was fucking terrifying.
“How’s your community service been?” she asked.
I swallowed. “Fine, ma’am. Lily,” I corrected. “It’s fine.”
“Hopefully, it’s successful in teaching you something.”
Coach glanced down at the ground but didn’t interrupt.
“I think it will.”
She arched an eyebrow again. “Did you know that over twelve thousand people died from alcohol-related car crashes last year?”
I kept my face even. “No, ma’am. I didn’t.”
“I lost people I love very much to someone who drank too much and got behind the wheel, which is why my husband and I support charities related to education and awareness of this issue. It’s avoidable. Entirely, completely avoidable.”
Shame tried to claw up my throat, a thick wedge of icy emotion that wouldn’t budge when I tried to swallow. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I hope you’re willing to learn and make different choices when this is over. My husband said you have amazing potential to lead this team.”
My eyes darted over to Coach. He’d lifted his head to stare at his wife but turned to me when she said it. He held my gaze and didn’t say anything.
How was he still giving me chances? It didn’t make sense, no matter how many times I turned it over and over in my head.
I exhaled slowly, shifting my attention back to her. “Yes, ma’am. I’m going to try.”
Her features thawed slightly. “That’s all any of us can do. We’re rooting for you, Archer.”
Coach leaned in and kissed her temple, and I stayed frozen in place as they said their goodbyes and walked away, still hand in hand.
When they turned a corner, I leaned my back against the wall and sank down to the floor, my head in my hands while I tried to breathe through the wave of prickling anxiety that crashed through my body.
I wasn’t sure how long I sat there waiting for my hands and feet to stop tingling, for my heart rate to even out, but an alarm went off on my phone, and I was stunned to see that it was already time to head back to Remi’s.
As I stood, I scrubbed my hands over my face. Eventually, this would all be over.
Eventually.