Page 98 of The No Try Zone
I sigh. “Fair enough. C’mon. It’s late and you should go.”
He lets me walk him to the door before turning to give me another searching look, his hand on the open doorframe, before finally dipping his chin. “Love you, sis.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I love you, too.”
“What do I get for not telling Mum?” he asks, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
My own eyes widen. “You little shit!” I make to slam the door and he yanks his hand away. “Tell her and it’ll be the last thing you do!”
He laughs as he jogs down the stairs. “G’night!”
As soon as I close the door, the smile drops from my face. How did today go so wrong? First the fight with Kari, then this. I let the tears fall.
Chapter35
Colin
IT’S GAME DAY. And instead of being down in the locker room with the team, I’m in my office, staring at the bleachers as they fill up with visitors. A sea of black and turquoise, accented by the green of the pitch and the clear blue sky above. It’s a perfect day for a match, and I’m a fucking coward.
It took Lennox exactly one hour into practice earlier this week to figure out something had happened. And because he’s a giant oaf with good intentions and the subtlety of an ox, Ansel joined him in cornering me after practice. They’d asked what was wrong. When I said all was fine, Ansel wanted to know why Ollie kept glaring at me.
It got worse as the week went on. Every practice has been rough. Players are tense and tempers are short. It doesn’t help that we’re playing our rivals, the Nashville Music. Scott and Frank, the head PR asshole, stopped by yesterday as we wrapped up practice, and it was a damn miracle neither of them commented on the way it’d ended.
“Ready for the match tomorrow?” Scott asked, his attention landing on each player as they jogged off the pitch.
Not even close.“Absolutely.”
Frank rolled back on his heels. “I’ve got everything set up for the press. You’re going to do a pre-game interview with Sullivan Adams; I promised him an exclusive with you.”
With a wince, I agreed. I’d heard that Sullivan Adams is known for his ability to sense any drama on a team – and if there isn’t any, I’m fairly certain he isn’t above creating it.
Now, I glance at my watch. I’ve got enough time to go to the locker room and check in on the guys before the interview. I may have acted like an utter ass these past few months, but I still have a job to do.
But before I can leave, Ollie walks in. He’s already kitted out, the uniform barely containing him and putting every ounce of him on display. The funny thing is, until now – until right this very moment – I’d thought of him as a little kid who needed direction. It’s how I’d approached mentoring him, and he’d seemed to take to it willingly. But now, looking at him as he folds his arms and glares at me from across the office, I think I’ve been wrong. I’ve underestimated him, to my disappointment and to his disadvantage.
“Ollie.” I wipe the resignation from my voice and straighten, adjusting my hold on the clipboard.
“We should talk.”
“And you think doing that before one of the most critical matches of the season is the way to go?”
“You’ve not really left me much of a choice, Coach,” he states flatly, his eyes so much like his sister’s that it’s disconcerting.
“Fine. Talk.” I wave the clipboard at him. “But I have to meet with a reporter so we need to do this as we walk.”
Ollie’s eyes narrow. “You think you can control this the same way you control the team.”
I walk around him, knowing he’ll fall into step beside me. Five minutes. I can handle whatever he throws at me for five minutes.
Ollie swears under his breath, appearing at my side a moment later. “You’re a fucking asshole.”
I yank open the door to the private stairwell. “That’s how you’re talking to your coach now?”
“That’s how I’m talking to mybrother-in-lawnow, you arse.”
I don’t acknowledge it, focusing instead on jogging down the stairs.
“Do you know what you’ve done?” he asks, easily keeping up with me.
