Chapter 6
Landon
“Coach Fletcher!”
My sneakers scrape across the gravel in the parking lot as I turn around.
A blonde-haired woman smiles as she walks toward me. “I’m Hannah’s mom, Lucy. Just wanted to introduce myself.”
I hold out my hand. “I’m looking forward to seeing Hannah as goalie this season.”
Lucy keeps my hand after she shakes it, and doesn’t let it go. Her eyes trail the length of my body. “It’s so nice to have a former lacrosse champion as our coach.”
I drop her hand like a Hot Pocket, taking a step back. “Uh, well, Coach Ainsley is a former champion too, so I’m not the first.”
And her daughter was on her team last year, so she knows this.
Lucy purses her lips as her eyes cut to the field. “Between us, I think it should be you out there coaching the varsity team.”
My chin jerks back, irritation spiking in my veins. The nerve of these parents. “Ainsley is well-suited for the job, ma’am. Now if you’ll excuse me—”
She laughs, tilting her head back and pressing her palm against her chest as if I made the funniest joke. “Please, call me anything but ma’am. That makes me feel so old, and I’m not much older than you. You can call me Lucy.”
My eyes land on the giant diamond sparkling on her ring finger. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Brennan, but I need to start practice.”
Her blue eyes narrow for a split-second. “Oh, here.” She holds out a red to-go cup, Wawa’s big letters scrawled across it in white. “Got you a coffee. It’s tradition for the first practice.” She shoots me a wink. “I’ll be your caffeine girl for the whole season if you need it.”
My stomach turns at how obvious her flirting is.
I don’t bother to tell her that I don’t drink coffee because caffeine makes me jittery. Plus, it tastes like shit unless you fill it with cream and sugar, and by then, what’s the point?
“Thanks.” I raise the cup and speed-walk to the field, finding Quinn standing beside Ainsley and Raymond.
Ainsley arches an eyebrow as I stop beside her and drop my duffle onto the grass. “What happened to if you’re not early you’re late?”
“I was early until I got stopped by a mom in the parking lot.” I set my cup down on the folding table and pull my whistle from my pocket before looping it around my neck. “We need some kind of signal if we need to be saved from a conversation with one of these parents.”
She scoffs. “Yes, because having Wawa personally delivered to you seems so bothersome.”
I lift the cup. “Want it? Don’t want to take your traditional first-day coffee.”
“What?”
I gesture toward the bleachers where Lucy is setting up her padded folding chair—complete with a cup holder and footrest. “Mrs. Brennan said she does this for the coaches every year.”
A sardonic laugh leaves Ainsley’s throat. “And you fell for it?”
My eyes shift to Quinn, looking for an explanation.
Quinn leans in, lowering her voice. “If Lucy Loose-lips Brennan brings you coffee, it isn’t because of tradition.”
I rub the back of my neck, staring at my reflection in Ainsley’s dark sunglasses. “She going to be a problem?”
“Not for me.” She turns toward the group of girls gathering around us and lifts her whistle to her lips, blowing out a short chirp. “Everyone, take a knee.”
I shake off the unease as it twists my gut, and focus on the girls in front of me. As long as I play nice, and keep my distance, the parents shouldn’t be an issue.
“Welcome to the team,” Ainsley says.
Smiles ripple through the two teams while I clap. “You’ve earned your spots.”
“Now you need to work to keep them.” Ainsley pushes her sunglasses onto the top of her head. “The amount of field time you get in a game is dependent upon one person and one person only: yourself.”
I half-zone out while she continues her cold speech about working hard, and being the best you can be. It’s clear what she values, and while there isn’t anything wrong with hard work, she’s leaving out important factors.
“Look at the people to your left and right,” I add, once Ainsley finally takes a breath. “These girls are your teammates now. You need to learn to work together. You’re only as strong as your weakest link, so make sure you’re helping each other too—on and off the field.”
Ainsley lifts her hands and tugs at her ponytail to tighten it, though I don’t know how she could get it any tighter than it already is.
I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen her with her hair down, and I’ve always wondered why she keeps it so long to begin with if she doesn’t bother to show it off.
“Hello...?” Ainsley snaps her fingers in front of me. “Did you fall asleep?”
I blink and clear my throat. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked if you were ready to split up and get started.”
I nod once. “Ready.”
Her eyes roll before she slips her sunglasses back onto her face. “Maybe you do need that coffee after all.”
I swipe my clipboard off the table. “Yeah, wouldn’t want you to drink it; I think you’re wound tight enough.”
She snaps her gum as she spins around, her ponytail whipping around with her. For a second, I think she doesn’t have a snarky comeback for me.
Then I glance down to her middle finger hiding behind her back as she walks away.
A smile threatens to tug at the corners of my mouth, that old familiar feeling creeping its way into my skin.
The kind of craving that’s only satiated when I’m getting a reaction out of her.
It feels good scratching that itch after all this time, though I’m not proud of it.
It’s just as much frustrating as it is satisfying.
We split the field, JV on the left and varsity on the right. I breathe a bit easier with her out of my space. Still, I feel her watching, her gaze like a spotlight on me everywhere I go.
Judging.
But I’m not here for her, nor for her approval. This team is mine, and I plan on giving these girls my all.
“Let’s head down this way.” I wave my arm for the team to follow, and fall into stride beside Quinn.
She follows my line of sight where my attention snags on the cluster of parents gathered behind the fence by the bleachers. “Don’t pay them any mind.”
“Easier said than done when they’re waiting for me in the parking lot with a cup of bribery.”
Quinn chuckles, and tucks a loose strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. “You’ll be fine. Be polite, and focus on winning games. That’s all they care about anyway.”
That I can do. We play our first opponent on Saturday, so we have a week to work on becoming a team.
When we’ve walked far enough away from varsity, I stop. “Take a knee, ladies.”
They rest their sticks on the grass while they lower.
“Practices aren’t about being perfect. They’re about effort. Putting in the work to get better. This is where you make your mistakes, and fix them. Don’t be afraid to ask questions. You’re here to learn, and we’re here to help you. Now, pair up, and we’ll start passing on the run.”
The girls scatter to grab partners, and I nod toward the left line. “Quinn, take that one and I’ll be on this side. Make sure they keep their heads up as they pass.”
Her eyebrows jump. “Really? You want me to help?”
My head tilts. “You’re a coach. What did you think you were going to do?”
I don’t miss the way her eyes flick to Ainsley’s side of the field before she smiles. “Thanks, Coach.”
I haven’t asked Quinn about what it was like working with Ainsley on JV, but I might have to based off her reaction.
Later.
For now, we move between the girls, correcting their grips on the sticks and adjusting their footwork.
I stop beside Shreeya Patel, one of my new attackers.
Her wide brown eyes dart to mine. “Is...is this right?”
I offer her a warm smile. “Open your body up to the field as you move.” I tilt her shoulders, a slight repositioning. “Now try again.”
She follows without hesitation, and shoots a clean, sharp pass to her partner.
“There you go,” I say as I nod. Then I lower my voice. “And don’t forget to breathe.”
Her shoulders rise and fall as she flashes me an appreciative smile.
I can spot anxiety a mile away, and I noted Shreeya’s nervous energy from the second I met her at tryouts. I wish someone would’ve noticed mine when I was in her shoes. Would’ve made my life a lot easier. I’ll help her get through this season.
As if on instinct, my gaze pulls toward Ainsley across the field. Her head snaps as soon as I find her, but it’s too late. I caught her. Watching me. No doubt scrutinizing my every interaction with these kids.
I shake it off. It is what it is. I’m doing my job and I’m here to stay. It doesn’t matter what she thinks.
By the end of practice, it’s clear who has the potential to play in the first game. A handful of girls responded well to coaching today, and with more practice, they’ll be solid starters. I make a mental note of all the things we need to cover before then.
The girls make a semi-circle around me and take a knee, without me having to ask them, which is a great sign. “Good work today, everyone. Hydrate, stretch, and rest up for tomorrow. Coach Quinn, would you like to add anything?”
“Um...” Quinn clears her throat, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. Then she straightens her shoulders. “Don’t overwork yourself. You did a lot today. Give yourself time to let everything sink in, and process it all.”
I nod fervently. “Absolutely, I agree. Rest and reflection are just as important as hard work.”
Quinn smiles wide.
The kids disperse, heading toward the parking lot where their parents await. I hang back, gathering cones and tossing them into a mesh bag. Ainsley remains at the far end of the field, doing the same.
I glance at Quinn. “You worked with Ainsley on JV.”
“Mhmm.”
I quirk a brow. “And how was that?”
“It was fine.” She turns away from me, bending down to collect a few balls from the grass.
I chuckle. “Well, let me make things crystal clear for you: You and I are equals. I want you to feel comfortable and confident in coaching these kids.”
Quinn turns around to face me, her eyes softening. “I appreciate that.”
“Your sister mentioned you’ve been going through a bit of a hard time.”
She nods, dropping her gaze to the grass. “Yeah.”
Sloane told me that her sister has been in an unhappy marriage for the last several years, and is working up the courage to ask for a divorce. She didn’t go into detail, but I got the impression that Quinn’s husband is a bit controlling.
“If you ever need anything, anything at all, please know I’m here.” I cup her shoulder. “My parents got divorced, and it was difficult for my mom in the beginning.”
“Thanks, Landon.” Quinn covers my hand with her own. “Same goes for you. I know coming back to town hasn’t been easy.” She shrugs. “Sloane talks to me too.”
I roll my lips between my teeth. “Yeah,” is all I can say around the lump growing in my throat.
After we finish cleaning up the equipment, I glance back at Ainsley as I make my way toward the parking lot.
She’s stuck talking to one of the moms.
I could go over and help her, but I won’t.
Instead, I smile and wave as I walk by.
Payback’s a bitch, Morgan.
“Hey, baby! How was your day?”
“It was good.” I smile as I stride through the doorway. Mom’s bustling around the room, from the stove to the fridge, and back to the stove again. Her cheeks are a healthy, rosy pink, and her movements are steady.
Today’s a good day.
“Smells great in here.” I lean my hip against the counter. “Whatcha making?”
“Your favorite. I knew you’d be starving after today.” She gives me a quick peck on the cheek before focusing on the chicken she’s seasoning. “How did practice go?”
“Good. Great, actually. I have a great group of girls to work with.”
“They’re so lucky to have you as their coach.” She arches a brow. “And how was Ainsley?”
I pop a nonchalant shoulder. “Oh, you mean the grown woman who is still holding onto something I did seventeen years ago? She’s wonderful. Very friendly.”
Mom’s lips twist into a smirk. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but her anger is a good thing.”
My eyebrows pinch together. “You say that because you haven’t been on the receiving end of it.”
“Anger means she’s hurt, and hurt means she cares. It’s when a woman stops caring that you should be worried.”
“Or maybe she just hates me that much.”
Her green eyes sparkle as she smiles up at me. “Nobody could hate you, my boy.”
I think Ainsley Morgan would disagree.
Mom gasps. “You should invite her and the girls over for a team BBQ. It’ll be just like old times.”
I grimace. “I don’t think she’d go for that.”
“Tell her the invite is from me.” Mom winks. “She won’t be able to say no to that.”
I’m shaking my head, but I say, “Sure, I’ll ask her tomorrow.”
Mom’s smile widens, making the idea of having Ainsley in my house seem worth it.
“How was your day today?” I rub her back in small circles. “You seem good.”
“I am. I did a few laps around the block, and I didn’t get tired. No dizzy spells.”
Relief rolls over me, and my shoulders drop a fraction of an inch. “That’s great, Mom. Is there anything I can do to help with dinner?”
“Nope.” She bumps her hip against mine. “Go shower, and then you can set the table. We’re using our fancy dishes tonight!”
I chuckle as I make my way into the hallway.
Mom’s excited, and that makes me excited. She’s had a rough few months, and if this dinner makes her happy, then I’ll do it a hundred times over.