Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
AYDA
If there was a word for something bigger than hate, which was also much less impassioned, that’s what I needed to describe how I felt about Jacob Hove being the coach of the Babylon Bulldogs football team.
He’d never been a huge fan of my kid brother when we’d been teenagers.
Tate had wanted to play football since he was old enough to hold pigskin in his hands, so he’d idolized my high school boyfriend because he’d been one of the best players on the team at the time.
Unfortunately, Jacob had been more interested in getting his hands up my skirt, and he’d found it annoying that this kid, almost ten years our junior, would hide from us behind the first thing he could find and only make himself known by giggling before running away, knowing full well I would follow him.
After Mom and Dad died, and Jacob had sent me his breakup email, Tate had changed his whole perspective on Jacob, and the hero worship had turned into a deep loathing.
Every time Tate’s classmates had brought up Jacob’s name as the best player the school had ever seen, Tate would snort and get his punishment for his insubordination by doing laps.
All for his big sister’s honor. This was the very reason I had to be the one to tell him what was coming.
The season may have ended for the Bulldogs, but that didn’t mean practice was over.
They would bring in Jacob as soon as they could so the team would get used to him long before the new season started, and with the MC at his back, Tate was having a harder time keeping his opinion to himself these days.
To sweeten Tate up a little, I’d brought him and Libby burgers, fries, and one of Janette’s apple pies, with a tub of vanilla bean ice cream for dessert.
He was always a little more cooperative with a full stomach—so were most of The Hut’s inhabitants, come to think of it.
I found him and Libby in the room that had been set aside for me.
I let them, as well as Sloane and the twins, in there to do homework and watch TV.
I’d bought him a new video gaming system for Christmas, which he had hooked up as well.
“Hungry?” I asked, swinging around the doorframe with the bag of food dangling from one finger. Drew had gone to sort something out before he came to help me try to explain how we were going to handle this, so I was on my own for now.
“Always,” Tate said, glancing over his shoulder at me.
He had the game controller in his hands and his forearms balanced on his knees as he played.
Libby was on her stomach on the bed next to him, half-heartedly reading some fashion magazine that was barely holding her interest. Pressing the menu button that called a map to the screen, he made a grabby hand at the bag of food, his big frame no longer fitting his youthful face as he grinned up at me.
“Come on, sis, don’t hold out on me. I smell the apple pie from here. ”
Libby laughed, rolling to her side and propping her head up with one hand, her smile bright.
After the incident at the warehouse, the two of them had been on rocky ground for a while, but they’d pushed through their differences, made up, and though she hated him spending time with Sloane, she never complained aloud.
Sloane had needed a friend, and that was all Tate had been for her.
I dropped the bag of food on the bed between them and stole the controller, ignoring the emphatic complaints that I would mess up his game as I sank to one of the huge cushions at the foot of the bed and pressed the pause button to continue the mission.
Needless to say, I was a terrible game driver. I think I crashed more than I drove. Poor pedestrians were darting from my path of chaos as I turned left then right—ruining the car Tate called his beast. The virtual vehicle was a huge pickup that looked a little like the one I now owned.
“Do me a favor: park it in my garage and pick a slow banger, A.”
“Where is it?”
“Pull up the map.” I did as I was told and waited. “See that orange house thing?”
I went to the green one.
“No. Orange, A.”
I took the cursor to the blue one, silently laughing at his growled frustration.
“O-Range.”
“Oh. You said orange.”
Libby laughed out loud, apologizing but not laughing any less when I was sure Tate was glaring at her for siding with me.
I made a waypoint on the map and made sure to hit every stationary object on the way there…
until the controller was plucked from my hands by Drew who was shaking his head in sympathy.
“What are you doing?” I reached for the controller, but he had the hunk of plastic way out of my reach. “It’s still my turn.”
“I can’t watch any more of that driving. It’s like being in the car with you for real. Scary.” His eyes widened as he grinned his cocky half-grin at me and held the controller out for Tate to take back.
“Spoilsport. You’re just jealous of my mad skills.” I grinned up at him before tugging on his cut in a request for him to help me up from my perch on the cushions.
He pulled me up using no effort at all, his free hand curling around my waist the way it always did as he pulled me into his side. Two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle fitting together perfectly every single time.
“You fed the beast?” Drew asked me before he turned to look at Tate.
I grinned up at him, my hands closing around the open sides of his cut as I met his gaze. “He still has to eat his apple pie, but he’s mostly fed.”
I asked him silently if he thought we should start the talk now, or let Tate finish eating first. There were just some things about men I’d never been able to figure out, and having an insight helped when I would have otherwise dived in and blurted the news out with a cringe.
Drew’s hand slid to my ass cheek, giving it a playful yet slightly painful pinch, his eyes still on Tate as his smile grew.
“Tate, Ayda wants to talk to you about your new football coach who we met in the diner earlier and happens to be a total prick.”
And I thought I was blunt.
Patting Drew’s chest in thanks, I rolled my head in Tate’s direction and pressed my lips together. “Do you know who they hired?”
Tate looked up at me and shrugged. “Not like they’re going to consult us about it. Is he a hard ass or something?” He stuffed more fries into his mouth and looked between Drew and me.
“There’s no easy way to say this so… It’s Jacob,” I said, leaning into Drew just to absorb some of his body heat.
“Fuck. No.” Tate growled, dropping his burger into the takeout box and sitting up from his slouch. “Then I’m quitting the team.”
“Hounds don’t quit,” Drew said calmly, his voice somehow commanding everyone’s attention despite how quietly he’d spoken.
“Drew, I ain’t—”
“Yes, you are.”
“He’s right, Tate,” I responded. “He’s not going to win, and we’re not going to let him fuck with you. First sign of benching you, pushing you too hard, even looking at you the wrong way, and I will be getting his ass fired.”
Tate looked between Drew and me, his eyes wide and waiting. “I don’t understand how this has happened.”
Drew sighed softly. “I’d put money on him coming back to Babylon to rattle Ayda’s cage more than anything else.
Unfortunately for you, that puts you in the firing line.
I’ve seen you there before, Tate, and I know you can handle it.
You’re more of a man than that di—” Drew stopped himself and cleared his throat. “Than that idiot.”
“The stray that lives out back of the Roller Freeze is more of a man than that asshole, Drew,” Tate followed, pushing his food away.
“Hey,” I said, trying to calm him down. “I know this sucks. Believe me, he’s already been more of a dickhead than Kenny manages to be in six months.”
“It’s a natural state,” Tate mumbled, leaning against Libby and shaking his head in disgust. “There’s no way in hell he’d call a college scout out for me when the time comes. I’m screwed.”
“You think we’d let that happen?” I asked.
“You think he won’t try to screw me over?” Tate snapped back.
“If he does, we’ll handle it,” Drew muttered quietly.
“What?” Tate said through a shitty sigh. “You got college scouts on your books now, Drew? You can hook my entire future and football career up for me just by throwing some cash at some guy in another state?”
Drew pulled away from me and sighed. I knew what was coming.
For all he thought he was terrible at playing this role in Tate’s life, he always seemed to know when to step in, and he worked on natural instincts I’d never had to teach him.
He was a father of so many men, even brothers who were old enough to be a generation more experienced than him.
Dealing with Tate was second nature to Drew.
I just hadn’t the heart to tell him when he was so convinced he sucked at it.
He was cute when he was unsure—a rarity for a man like him.
Scratching the back of his head, Drew tossed the food in front of Tate out of the way, grabbed my brother by the hand, and forced him to stand.
It was always a weird contrast. Strong, rough, determined and experienced facing almost strong, potential to be rough, definitely determined, but absolutely no experience whatsoever.
Drew straightened his spine, pushed his chest out, grabbed both Tate’s biceps and looked down on him.
“Quit whining.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“So the world has thrown you a curveball.
Welcome to the real world, kid. Shit happens.
But you want the truth, here it is: I have no worries about you or your future, ‘cause when I look at you, I see a kid who makes shit happen in his life, whether he believes in himself or not. Last year, a snot-nosed brat walked into my home, hid under my bed, and tried to steal money from my club in order to save his sister. Do you remember that?” Drew asked, raising a brow at him.
“Vaguely,” Tate muttered, his face setting to stone before his chin dropped to his chest.