Chapter 27
VINCENT
I stayed long enough at Brooklyn’s flat to watch her drift off to sleep. After two more orgasms and a blowjob that nearly fried my brain, I wasn’t in the best condition to walk, much less drive, but I forced myself to leave anyway.
If I had my way, I’d sleep there overnight and wake her up with breakfast…or another orgasm. Possibly both. But I wasn’t living by myself anymore, and Coach would skewer me if I missed our morning run.
I parked in his drive and cut the engine. It was almost two in the morning. The windows were dark, and the house was cloaked in silence. He was most likely asleep.
I breathed a sigh of relief. We had to have a conversation about Brooklyn sooner rather than later—after tonight’s auction, it was inevitable—but I needed a good night’s sleep and a proper strategy first.
She was too important for me to fuck this up.
I unlocked the front door and slipped into the house. I kept my movements as quiet as possible. Coach had the supersonic hearing of a bat, but all I had to do was cross the living room, walk up the stairs, and pass by his bedroom without him hearing me.
Easy.
One step. Two steps. Three—
“Where’d you go after the gala?” The voice emanated from the darkness like a visitor from the depths of hell.
“Jesus!” I startled, my adrenaline spiking.
I searched the living room until my eyes adjusted enough to make out the familiar shapes of the furniture. Coach sat on the sofa, his burly frame unmistakable. I couldn’t see his exact expression, but the crossed arms and suspicious question gave me a small hint as to how he felt.
It reminded me of when my father would wait up to yell at me every time I stayed out past curfew.
“Coach.” I ironed the wrinkles of trepidation out of my voice. “You’re up late.”
“I was worried about you, given your intruder situation.”
My shoulders relaxed an inch. “I’m—”
“I was also worried because Brooklyn hasn’t answered any of my calls since the event, which is unusual.” A heavy pause. “You don’t happen to know why, do you?”
My muscles tensed right back up. It took every ounce of willpower not to picture what Brooklyn and I had been doing an hour ago. People couldn’t read minds, but I was convinced Coach could somehow reach into my brain and squeeze out every filthy thought I’d ever had.
“She’s probably sleeping.” Technically not a lie. “The event ended pretty late.”
Coach stood up and walked toward me. A sliver of moonlight peeked through the window on the front door, illuminating his expression.
I expected him to look angry, which he did. But he also looked tired and a little defeated, like he’d been fighting a battle that’d lasted far longer than he thought it would.
I didn’t back down, not even when he stopped a foot away from me.
He wore the same suit he had on at the gala, but he’d swapped out his trainers for slippers.
The sight would’ve been hilarious were I not drenched in cold sweat.
“Now that it’s just us, do you want to tell me the truth about why she bid on you at the auction? ” he asked, his voice neutral.
Indecision warred inside me. I didn’t want to say anything before Brooklyn got a chance to tell him herself, but they weren’t on the best of terms. She might never tell him, and if she did, I could imagine their conversation devolving into cold war.
They seemed to know just how to push the other’s buttons.
“I didn’t know she was going to bid on me.” I settled on a mild version of the truth. “As for her reasons, she can tell you better than I can.”
Coach’s mouth tightened. I could practically see an inner war waging as he decided whether he wanted to grill me further or if he wanted to live in blissful ignorance.
“You’re both adults,” he finally said. “But she’s my only child. She doesn’t think I’ve been…present enough in her life, and she may be right. However, if there’s anything going on that could affect either of your careers”—his glare drilled into me—“I need to know immediately. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now get some rest. We have our morning run at five sharp.”
I’d hoped he would forget about the run since he was up late as well, but I guess that was too much to ask.
I headed for the stairs, but the night’s events kept churning in my head.
The auction. Brooklyn’s bid. Coach’s interrogation. Her flat and how fucking good it felt to give into our feelings fully and be with each other.
But as long as we kept it a secret from her dad, we could never be together in the open. What were we really afraid of anyway? She was only an employee at Blackcastle for two more weeks, which negated the club’s anti-fraternization policy. It wasn’t like they could fire her.
Coach would definitely lose his shit over me dating his daughter. Maybe he was overcompensating for the fact that he hadn’t been a big part of her life growing up, but he seemed particularly protective of her when it came to her love life.
If he found out about us, he could punish me with tougher drills, which I could deal with, or he could ice me out.
I didn’t want that. I respected him, and I’d come to see him as a second dad. But I also knew he wasn’t going to come after me in a way that would affect our performance. He loved Blackcastle too much, and he wouldn’t trade or bench me out of spite.
Even if he did, I’d tell him the truth anyway because if I had to choose between being with Brooklyn and staying on Coach’s good side, I’d pick her. Every time, over anything.
I stopped at the bottom of the stairs, the revelation unraveling in my gut.
I could wait until the morning to tell Coach, or I could suck it up and do it now. It wouldn’t make a difference. A few hours of sleep wouldn’t change how I felt about her or our relationship.
I turned. “Actually, I do have something to tell you. Brooklyn didn’t answer her phone because she was with me. I went to her flat after the gala.”
Coach remained in the entryway. Not a single word left his mouth, and not a single movement disrupted his frame, but the air around him thickened like clouds gathering before a storm.
“When you found out we were living together, we really were just flatmates. We hadn’t crossed any line that would trigger Blackcastle’s anti-fraternization policy.
That’s no longer true.” I swallowed. “Brooklyn came on my birthday trip to Budapest last weekend. We kissed. That was it. But tonight, we had a talk after the gala and, well, we’re officially dating.
You’re the first person we’ve—I’ve—told.
I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else. ”
Still no reaction.
The grandfather clock ticked in the corner like the countdown timer on a bomb. The silence was painful, but I forged on.
“I understand your concerns about our relationship. Like you said, she’s your only daughter, and I disagree with her conclusion that you don’t care about her outside of football.
I think you do care. You just don’t show it in a way that she can recognize.
” I was toeing the line here, but Coach responded best to directness.
Judging by the way his jaw worked, I’d hit a nerve.
“I know I haven’t had a serious relationship since I transferred to Blackcastle, and I’ve probably broken a few hearts along the way.
I’m not proud of that. But that’s because I never met anyone who made me want to focus on something other than football—until Brooklyn.
This is real, and I’m not going to fuck it up. I promise.”
Coach snorted. “You’re trying to tell me you’re that serious about my daughter.”
“Yes.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“You don’t have a reason to. I can’t say anything that’ll magically wipe away your doubts.
But…” The next part might actually get me punched, but it had to be said.
“I’m not telling you all of this because I’m asking for your permission to date her.
With all due respect, sir, that’s her choice to make.
Like you said, she’s an adult, and she’s capable of making her own decisions about her love life.
However, I am telling you because I would like to have your blessing.
You’re an important part of Brooklyn’s life and an important part of mine as well, so I hope you’ll put aside your misgivings long enough to give us a chance.
But if you don’t, we’re going to be together anyway.
You can yell at me. You can make me run drills until I vomit.
You can make me wear the fucking mascot costume and dance the ‘Macarena’ during halftime.
It doesn’t matter. I’ll take it all because Brooklyn’s worth it.
There’s nothing you can do or say that would change that. ”
When I said my piece, I’d imagined my words would set off an explosion—screaming, shouting, glass shattering, objects being thrown. Instead, they disappeared into the void, swallowed whole by a blanket of suffocating silence.
Coach’s face appeared carved out of stone. His eyes pierced mine, and I had the eerie sense that he was mentally flaying my flesh from my bones.
But beneath the tightly leashed fury, I spotted a glimmer of something else.
Respect.
I waited, my muscles taut and my nerves frayed.
“I didn’t want her mother to take her, you know.
” When Coach finally spoke again, his voice was quiet.
I startled. That wasn’t the response I’d expected.
“She was so young when we divorced, and Sienna has never been the most…nurturing person. But I was coming up in my career then, and as much as I wanted Brooklyn by my side, I thought she needed her mother. Someone who could relate to her and guide her through life in a way I couldn’t.
In hindsight, I’m not sure I made the right choice.
But because I did make it, I missed out on some of her biggest milestones.
I missed her first date, her first breakup, and her first heartbreak.
I missed her senior prom and her college graduation because it was the same day as the Euro Cup final.
I thought things would change when she moved to London, but it’s been over twenty years.
She’s not the little girl I remember anymore, and I don’t know how to connect with her when I’ve missed almost every stage of her growing up. ”
He fell silent. The exhaustion I’d glimpsed earlier crept back into his face, deepening the grooves around his eyes and mouth.
“I believe you think your commitment to her is sincere,” he said. “But I’ve coached enough footballers to know how fickle they are off the pitch. Cars, women, houses. Their non-football passions rarely last in the long run. I don’t have much faith that you’re the exception.”
I flinched. Ouch. He had a point about fickle footballers in general, but his assessment stung nonetheless.
“However…” Coach ground his next words out between gritted teeth. “It’s clear that Brooklyn has a soft spot for you. If she wants to be with you, I won’t stand in her way. Not that I could stop her if I tried.” His mouth twisted with equal parts resignation and disapproval.
The tight band across my chest loosened. “Thank—”
“I’m not finished.” He held up his hand, his eyes sparking with renewed ferocity.
“If you hurt her in any way—if you so much as make her shed a single tear—I will gut you like a fish and hang you up in the park to dry. I can always find a new captain and defender. You’re not irreplaceable. Is that clear?”
“Crystal.” Despite his graphic threat, I couldn’t stop a grin from emerging. “I hope you’ll tell Brooklyn what you just told me. She’d appreciate it.”
He snorted again. “The last time I took your advice, I walked in on you shirtless after you almost burned down her bloody flat.”
I wisely kept my mouth shut. Some statements did not need a response for the safety of all those involved.
Just when I thought I was in the clear, he asked, “Now, what were you doing at her flat until two in the morning? Don’t say talking. I wasn’t born yesterday.”
Was he seriously asking me that question? Didn’t dads always opt for blissful ignorance in these cases?
There was no way in hell I’d ever admit to having sex with his daughter. Brooklyn could give birth to my baby, and if Coach asked, I’d claim it was an immaculate conception.
“We were playing a game.” I threw out the first thing that came to mind.
“What game?”
“Uh, a variety of them.”
This had to be as uncomfortable for him as it was for me. I was convinced Coach was doing this for the sole purpose of making me sweat.
“Like?” he persisted.
Of course, I forgot the name of every game I’d ever played. I scrambled for the easiest answer. “Twister?”
I wanted to take it back the second it left my mouth. Playing Twister at midnight was basically a euphemism for sex. Only an idiot would think otherwise.
Coach’s eyes bore into mine. Merde, he was definitely flaying me alive in his mind—and probably roasting me over a fire for good measure.
Thankfully, he didn’t pursue that line of questioning, but he did give me a smile that set off every alarm bell in my head.
“Fine, but I forgot to tell you, I’m changing our daily schedule,” he said. “Since you had so much fun in Budapest, we need to whip you back in shape for our Boxing Day match. Meet me here at four a.m. sharp. We’re going to Blackcastle for a field run.”
Four a.m. was in less than two hours. Was he human or simply a Coach-shaped monster fueled by spite?
I groaned, but I didn’t argue.
Fucking field runs. I hated those drills, and he knew it.
Even so, when I walked upstairs and finally crashed, I felt lighter than I had in months.
Brooklyn and I were together. Coach knew and tolerated it. I was one step closer to getting the Zenith deal, and I’d raised forty thousand pounds for charity in one night.
Life didn’t get much better than this.