Chapter 11
Landon
“Let’s go!”
Another goal.
Quinn slaps her palm against mine. “Nice play, Coach.”
A wide grin splits my cheeks. We’re up six-nothing, and the girls are working together, communicating and passing. They trust each other.
With half the game over, I pull out a couple of my sophomores and put in the freshman.
“Shreeya, you’re up.”
Her wide brown eyes snap to mine. “Are you sure?”
I chuckle. “Positive. Get out there and show ‘em what you got.”
The sophomores on the sidelines tap their sticks against Shreeya’s, cheering her on. She slides her mouthguard into place and lowers her goggles over her eyes before running out onto the field.
“Yeah, Shreeya!” her parents yell from the bleachers.
She’s a quiet, anxious kid—not the qualities you’d assume for an attacker. But Shreeya has some serious skills, and with a bit of experience, her confidence will bloom.
The first game isn’t about winning. That’s where Ainsley went wrong earlier. It’s about giving your team experience, and helping them adjust to the game as it plays. She expected to come out the gate with a well-oiled team, and let the loss get to her instead of helping refocus her team.
That mom was out of line though. I couldn’t sit idly by and let someone overstep Ainsley’s coaching authority. Parents shouldn’t even be allowed that close to the huddle. But apparently, I was the one who overstepped.
I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t whenever it comes to Ainsley Morgan.
The screech of the whistle pulls me back into the present.
Forget about her.
Jayden, my midfielder, is fast as lightning. Her legs carry her from our goal all the way to the other side of the field, as she manages to keep possession of the ball.
Shreeya’s open. “Pass it, pass it!”
Jayden feeds it to Shreeya, and she whips the ball toward the net. The goalie snatches the ball before it can reach the net, and passes it to someone on her team. The ball gets carried away, and Shreeya’s chin hits her chest for a brief moment.
It’s okay. Keep playing. Come on, kid.
She jogs to the opposing side, and gets back in the game.
Not long after, she gains possession of the ball again, and runs it down the field. She has the opening to make a shot on the goal. Instead, she stops and passes it to Jayden, who isn’t prepared for it. The opposing team scoops the ball mid-air for a turnover.
Damnit.
Still, I clap. “That’s okay, Shreeya. Shake it off.”
“She’s going to be so upset,” Quinn murmurs.
“I know.”
We’ll make sure she knows it’s okay to mess up.
By the end of the game, the other team scores twice, but we still win.
The sophomores jump on Hannah, our goalie, and they erupt in cheers.
First game of the season.
First win.
I let out a long exhale, my shoulders dropping and my chin lifting a fraction higher.
As the teams line up for handshakes, I cut a glance to Ainsley.
She sits with her team, on the ground against the half-fence in front of the bleachers. Sunglasses in place, jaw tight, her team clapping for the JV girls though their faces look anything but happy.
A loss stings, no matter when it happens in the season. I know the feeling well.
But losing is an opportunity to learn.
Shreeya drags her feet behind the rest of the team as they huddle around me and Quinn.
“Quinn, why don’t you start us off.” I gesture to her, and her eyes widen.
“Uh...” She pauses, then turns to the girls. “I think you won today because of your communication on that field. I heard you, calling to each other, making sure you were able to set up each play, and you really had each other’s backs.”
“Absolutely. You played well, and you were a team.” I glance at my freshman attacker. “Shreeya, I know you’re in your head right now, beating yourself up. I can hear it from here. But mistakes are going to happen. Do you know what you did wrong in there?”
She nods, glassy eyes flicking up to mine. “I didn’t communicate to Jayden before I passed it.”
“And what did you do right?”
Her eyebrows jump. “Uhm, I...”
We sit in silence for a few beats before Lydia, a sophomore on defense, chimes in. “You took a shot at the goal.”
Shreeya’s eyes narrow. “But I didn’t score.”
“But you took the shot,” I say. “You gave your team a chance to score. You didn’t hesitate.
So, the goalie blocked it; big deal. You put in effort, and that’s what counts.
Don’t only focus on the mistakes you make, ladies.
It’s important to look at what needs work, sure, but don’t forget to celebrate the little wins too. ”
Shreeya smiles, and my chest swells with pride. This is how I want my team feeling after a game, win or lose. Taking it in stride, the good and the bad. Learning. Growing. And most of all, having a damn good time.
I stick my hand in the middle of the huddle. “JV wins on three!”
The team piles their hands on top of each other, and we all shout, “JV wins!”
Parents descend from the bleachers while the kids collect their belongings.
“For those of you who might not know this,” I say, facing everyone, “Coach Ainsley and I used to play varsity way back when we were in high school.” I step closer to Ainsley, and she lifts her sunglasses on top of her head.
“It was tradition for the losing team to treat the winning team to pizza. Now, I’m not telling you how to spend your money, but I think it’d be nice to keep the tradition alive.
Both teams are welcome to join me at River Rock. ”
The girls all run to their parents, followed by a chorus of, “Can I go?”
Ainsley purses her lips as she gazes up at me. “You’re still trying to get pizza out of me, all these years later.”
“Hey, you owe me from all the money I spent on your wins back then.”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of amusement shining there. “I’ll go grab us some tables. If we’re keeping traditions alive then the winning coach cleans up the field.”
I grin. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“Well, well, well. Look at this.”
Ainsley rolls her eyes. “Hi, Nicky.”
Nicky’s parents own the pizzeria we’ve been coming to since we were kids. I grin as I slap my palm against his. “Good to see you, man.”
He gives my hand a firm shake as he glances between the two of us. “I can’t believe you two are sitting at the same table after all these years.”
“Neither can I.” Ainsley’s eyes flick to mine, so much history staring back at me.
“You still betting on who’s going to win your games?” he asks, chuckling as he says it.
I arch a brow at Ainsley. “Are we?”
She hikes a nonchalant shoulder, when I know she’s anything but nonchalant when it comes to betting on herself.
“I did win today.” I grin like the Cheshire cat.
“Shots fired,” Nicky says, clapping and garnering everyone’s attention. “We have lacrosse legends in the house today.”
The restaurant patrons cheer.
“Congratulations to the JV girls on their first win,” I say.
Everyone raises their drinks, and our teams clink our soda cups together before taking a sip.
“Your pizza is on the house today,” Nicky says.
Ainsley shoots him a wink. “Thanks, Nick.”
“We should each go around the table and say what our favorite part of the games were today,” Natalie says.
I smile. “I love that.”
She smirks. “I loved when Coach Ainsley told off Maddie’s mom.”
Laughter erupts around the table.
Ainsley shakes her head. “I didn’t tell her off. Don’t be so dramatic.”
Maddie waves her hand. “Please, you can tell my mom off any time. She’s so embarrassing.”
Shreeya clears her throat and lifts her hand. “My favorite part was when Tori stopped that ball in the second quarter.”
Tori pushes out of her chair and stands to take a bow.
As the girls continue to speak, I glance across the table at Ainsley.
With her head perched in her hand, elbow on the table, she’s looking at the girls, but she isn’t really listening.
Her mind is somewhere else, no doubt replaying her team’s loss and all the ways she wants to fix it before the next game.
“It’s just one game.”
Her eyes flick down to the untouched pizza in her plate. “Must be nice, having parents clap for you instead of questioning every move you make.”
I heave a sigh, and sit back against the chair. “No matter what I say, you’re going to chew my head off anyway, but I’ll say it anyway: I think you’ll catch more flies with honey when it comes to the parents.”
Her nose scrunches. “Isn’t the saying, you’ll catch more bees with honey?”
“It’s flies. Bees make honey, why would I want to catch them with it?”
“And why would you want to catch flies?”
“To get them out of the house, I don’t know. I didn’t come up with the damn saying.”
She chuckles. “You’re so easy to rile.”
“Says the one who wakes up riled before the day even starts.” I lean both elbows onto the table. “Tell me, do you turn on the news as soon as you get out of bed in the morning, or do you fall asleep with agitating music on? What is it that makes you in such a grumpy mood?”
She leans forward and plants her arms on the table to match me. “It’s knowing I’m going to see your stupid face at my job every single day for the foreseeable future.”
“I don’t think you think my face is stupid.”
“That’s because you’re full of yourself.”
“I’m not the one walking around with my chin so high you can see up my nose.”
“Don’t be mad just because I’m taller than you.”
I cough out a laugh. “You are not taller than me. I’m six-one.”
“You’re not a hair over five-eleven.”
“Do you want to get out the measuring tape?”
She arches a brow. “Do you keep one handy so you can prove your size, Fletcher?”
I lower my voice. “There you go, thinking about my dick again.”
Her eyes ignite as she leans closer. “Or maybe you’re just wishing I would.”
My dick twitches like it knows it’s the topic of conversation.
Quinn clears her throat. “You do realize there are children present.”
My eyes snap up to hers, and she stifles a laugh as she turns back to her conversation with Raymond.
Ainsley takes a big bite of her pizza, waggling her eyebrows at me.
And I’m left wondering why she might be right...