CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Cameron
“Those are the uniforms?”
I nodded. “The very same.”
Adalyn muttered something under her breath before mumbling, “But— But they—”
“Look like they’re on their way to an eighties theme party?”
“Yes.” A huff left her, and I couldn’t say I didn’t relate to that defeated puff of air. “When did—”
“Josie was here early. She came bearing gifts.”
“But how—”
“Remember the story about her mother and the team back in the day?” Adalyn’s eyes widened and I gave her a nod. “Yeah. Those are the uniforms they used. God knows why they kept them this long.”
“Were they even—”
“Washed? Yes,” I said. “It was the first thing Josie said.”
Adalyn’s eyes narrowed. “Do you read minds now?”
“No.” But I was beginning to understand how hers worked. I turned toward the girls, who were scattering across the field. “Nothing we can do now.”
“This is my fault,” Adalyn said from my side. “I should have checked them beforehand. Just like I said I would. But Josie is so convincing when she wants to be.” She huffed. “I’ll need to see how fast I can order the new ones. But for that we need to get everything sorted. Jerseys, shorts, socks, shin guards, cleat boots, not sneakers. We need a color scheme and a style for the numbers. Everything. Maybe I—” A pause. “Oh my God. What is Chelsea doing with that tutu? What if they disqualify them? What if—”
“Darling—”
“Adalyn.”
“Adalyn,” I relented, just so she wouldn’t get any more worked up. I really had no energy to deal with any extra sassiness right now. The crowd the Grovesville Bears had brought to town was larger than I’d expected, and it was starting to get to me. “This is just a game, yeah?” Her face scrunched up in disagreement, but I lifted a finger. “Chelsea refused to take the goddamn thing off, she’s the bloody Black Swan or some age-inappropriate shit María convinced her of. But the ref said it’s fine when I asked, and she’s also just a kid. They all are. Forget about the tutu and the uniforms and try to get through the game without giving me a headache. This is just little league. It’s child’s play. Literally.”
Adalyn frowned, and I thought for a foolish second that she’d leave it alone. I was obviously wrong. “But the team looks ridiculous.”
I sighed.
She went on, “They’re warriors, they should look fierce. Imposing. Serious. It’s not even the fact that they’re all in pink. We changed the Flames’ third kit to a similar shade that was very popular among fans. But this?” Her hand stuck out. “They’re ugly and dated and the team looks… unserious.”
I didn’t disagree. “Try to ignore it. Close your eyes. Look away. Maybe go away.” She narrowed her eyes at me, and I faced the grass again. “There’s nothing you can do now, so you either stop nagging or go home.”
“You know I’m right.”
“I also know I’m getting a headache.”
“Just look at the other team,” she pressed, but I didn’t really need to. Adalyn continued, “They look like a miniature MLS team. Even their coach has a matching tracksuit.” A pause. “I wonder if anyone is sponsoring them.”
“I thought that binder of yours had all the answers of the universe,” I said dryly, but I turned to the right and looked in the direction of the Bears’ coach.
The lady in the tracksuit in question locked eyes with me across the field. I gave her a nod, even opened my mouth to extend a good luck, but then her eyes were narrowing and her arms were crossing over her chest. I frowned at her. And in response, she mouthed, You’re going down, bitch.
“What the fuck,” I muttered.
“Language,” Adalyn whispered loudly. “You really need to stop swearing around the kids. It’s unprofessional.”
I glanced back at her, finding her engrossed in her phone. “But she just called me a bitch.”
Adalyn’s gaze lifted off the screen for an instant, looking in the direction of the woman, and then returned her attention to it with a sigh. Her fingers started flying across the device. Typing neurotically. She paused, lifted the phone, and started snapping pictures. Unconvinced, she took a few steps back, pointed her phone forward, and snapped a hundred more.
I blinked at her. “What in the world are you doing now? The game is about to start.”
She returned to my side with a shrug and resumed the lightning typing. “What kind of question is that? I’m obviously working.”
“You’re going to burst a metacarpal at that speed.”
“Is that a bone in my fingers? If so, I’m not. I’m used to typing fast when I’m brainstorming.”
“Brainstorming,” I repeated slowly. “For what? New ways to drive me up the wall?”
“Ha,” she deadpanned. “For the new uniforms. I might also order a few banners with the new logo I can give away to people that come to the games.” She bit her lip for a moment, dragging my eyes there. “I can forward you a copy of my notes. We can go over everything on Monday. After practice. Is that a good time?”
I remembered the last meeting we had. The button bursting open. Her scent in my lungs. The lavender satin. My jaw clenched.
Without lifting her head from the screen, she said, “Don’t look at me like that, Coach.”
I ignored that Coach. “How do you know how I’m looking at you?”
“Because you operate in two modes. Self-important and annoyed.”
A snort escaped my mouth. She was probably right. “I thought we agreed on meetings on Wednesdays.”
“Monday won’t be a meeting.” Her thumb swiped up and down, switching apps at an impressive speed. “It’ll be a casual get-together to align ideas.”
“Putting the word casual in front of get-together doesn’t make it less of a meeting, darling.”
Her index finger tapped one last time on the screen. She lifted her head, finally looking at me. “How about you call me boss?” Her eyebrows arched. “I’m not a huge fan of defined hierarchical systems, but I think I can make an exception here.”
I stared back at her under the brim of my cap. Her hair was up in a tight bun again. Only this one was at the top of her head, making her features look sharper under the sun. The suit was back as well, this one a pale shade of beige that was paired with a blue glossy-looking top I wished that blazer wasn’t covering.
It was possibly the dressiest she’d ever been. Even the heels she had on seemed higher than usual. Adalyn was dressed to impress today. Prim and ready to bulldoze over some poor soul. Me, most likely. And yet it was a welcome contrast to how she’d looked the other night on her porch. Covered in dust. In yoga pants. Strands of hair sticking out. I still hadn’t figured out which version of Adalyn I found more disconcerting.
The skin in my palms tingled at the memory of the feel of her face under my fingertips.
I flexed my right hand.
“Where’s the ring?” she asked, bringing my attention back.
I felt myself frown in surprise, but I patted my chest. “I’m used to taking it off for games. I have it on a chain.”
Her cheeks flushed, but if she thought anything of it, she didn’t say. “And what’s with the hat?” She gave me a skeptical once-over. “Is this your game look? I could get you a hat when I order you a matching coach tracksuit. I could ask them to print COACH (RELUCTANTLY HERE) on the front.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Why are you here, again?”
“I’m the manager of the Green Warriors, where else should I be?”
“Not in the technical area. I’m the coach and this is my bench.”
“Technical area is a stretch.” She pointed at the humble space around us. “And you need me here. I’m pretty sure I heard the Bears’ coach conspiring against you on my way in from the parking lot.” A shrug. “I’d really hate to have to look for someone to fill in if you were to mysteriously disappear in… let’s say the bushy area behind the bleachers nobody seems to venture into.” A pause. “Not that I gave her any ideas.”
If I hadn’t been so caught up in the notion of Adalyn teasing me, I would have probably barked out a laugh. “Are you saying you’ll protect me from her?”
“Don’t look so smug,” Adalyn huffed, not even looking at me. “You’re my only employee, Coach.”
With a snort I let her have this one and faced forward. Soon after, the referee finally whistled, indicating the start of the game.
I took a step forward, clapping my hands a few times at the girls. “All right. Soldier on, Green Warriors!”
Every Warrior on the grass turned her head toward me. The ball rolled. They all blinked at me.
“Oh God,” Adalyn whispered from my side. “What did you do? Why aren’t they moving?”
“Gaze forward,” I instructed the girls, signaling the other side with my hand. “Don’t look at me,” I barked, pointing in the direction of the ball. But by the time the Green Warriors reacted, they were too late to stop the other team from stealing and making their way across the field with the ball.
María frowned from her position at the net. But— Why was María at the net? Juniper was our goalkeeper. Where the hell was Juniper? Shit. Fuck. I’d been so caught up with Adalyn that I—
The forward for the Bears jerked her leg back to kick. María turned, distractedly waving in my direction. No. In Adalyn’s direction.
I started to warn her, “Watch out for the—”
But the ball hit the back of the net, passing effortlessly over a smiling María.
“Goal,” I finished.
The stands erupted in cheers. The humble scoreboard changed. GREEN WARRIORS: 0 – GROVESVILLE BEARS: 1.
I looked over my shoulder quickly, shocked by the enthusiastic crowd from out of town. The Green Warriors were playing home and the only faces I recognized besides a few of the parents were Josie, Diane, and Gabriel. Granted, I wasn’t exactly going around town making friends, but there was barely any green in the stands. It was all red and white.
A woman met my gaze, eyes flashing with something I hoped wasn’t recognition. I whirled around, pulling my cap lower.
“Let’s not worry,” Adalyn said when the crowd quieted down and the game restarted. “This is just one goal. There’s plenty of game ahead. There’s more—”
Adalyn’s words came to an abrupt stop when Chelsea stole the ball from one of the Bears and ran. We both gawked at the kid, who was moving as fast as I’d ever seen a kid in a tutu move.
Chelsea neared the Green Warriors’ penalty area and Adalyn whispered, “What is she doing?”
But I couldn’t answer. I could only watch as Juniper shouted something in the distance, and when Chelsea didn’t stop, she raced after her. Undeterred, our tutu-wearing midfielder didn’t seem to care.
Adalyn mumbled something, then she said more clearly, “Oh my God, do something, Cameron. She’s going in the wrong direction.”
“There’s nothing to do, darling,” I answered with a gulp of air just as Chelsea kicked the ball with a flourish. “Nothing would have stopped that kid from scoring that onside goal.”
The crowd from Grovesville broke into a loud cheer again. Even if they hadn’t technically scored, a goal was a goal. I kept my gaze forward and my cap low, that familiar buzz at the back of my neck getting louder with every clap from the stands. That hadn’t been just an own goal, it had been complete and utter chaos.
I’d spent all week dismissing Adalyn’s attempts to create a strategy, truly believing everything she suggested was overkill. I still believed it. But somehow, all I could think about, as the game restarted again and the girls shuffled across the grass, was the red binder. The other one, too.
I wondered if there had been anything in there that would have warned me of this. For better or worse, I was the team’s coach, and I… well, I clearly hadn’t done a good job when my keeper was in the middle of the field and my midfielder had just scored an OG.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the Bears’ coach. She was looking straight at me with a smug look I didn’t like. Holding my gaze, she lifted her fists, bringing them under her eyes and pretending to wipe tears that weren’t there.
I stared blankly at her. That woman couldn’t know that during my career I’d put up with things that would probably make her pale. I—
Watched Adalyn shoot forward.
“Ref!” she hollered. Hollered. Getting more than a few heads to turn. “Unsportsmanlike conduct is not a nice look on a kids’ coach.”
“Ma’am,” the ref—a woman with a no-bullshit attitude—warned from her spot on the grass. “Return immediately to the sideline.”
Laughter rolled in from the opposite bench, and Adalyn spun. “Maybe she should be more concerned about her little team.” The Bears’ coach gave her a once-over that made something in my stomach turn. She lowered her voice, “Go home, princess.”
Princess.
The word was lost on those not paying attention, but not on Adalyn and me.
“Excuse me,” Adalyn squeaked, her voice hiking an octave. She veered in the coach’s direction. “With all due respect, ma’am, I am not—”
My arm shot out and I dragged her back, toward me, until she was plastered against my side. A whiff of that lavender scent hitting me right in the nose. “Absolutely not, darling.”
Adalyn seemed distracted for a moment because it took her a bit to answer. “She called me a princess,” she finally said. My throat clogged for an instant. I had too. “And she’s mocking you and the team. I won’t allow that.”
Something softened inside my rib cage, appeasing me. But while I was as shocked as I was flattered by that defensive strike, I was also protective of keeping my anonymity, and there was a rather large crowd around. “I don’t know, boss. I say we be the bigger people and ignore her.”
I felt the tension in her body fly away. My arm was still around her. “You just called me boss.”
So I had. I searched our surroundings quickly, checking for curious eyes. Everyone but the other coach seemed distracted by the game. Ah, hell. “Remember how you said earlier we shouldn’t worry?” She nodded. “I think we should.”
“I could still get the ref to suspend that woman, you know?” she piped in. But her voice was softer. Calmer. “I’m convincing. And I also know very important people in the PRO.”
A chuckle escaped. It wasn’t the first and I was beginning to understand that it wouldn’t be the last, either. “I don’t think your contacts in the PRO are relevant here, darling. This is a little county league.” She grumbled, and my arm shifted, my fingers helplessly reaching forward and brushing that top I’d been eyeing before letting go. It felt like satin. She didn’t complain. “Let’s meet on Monday.”
Her chest expanded with a breath, and when she spoke it was only one word, “Why?”
Fuck if I knew, honestly. “Seems like we have work to do.”
Adalyn hesitated for an instant, but then she stepped closer until the tips of those shoes I despised touched my boots. She lifted her chin, assessing me. There were tiny freckles on the bridge of her nose. “I see,” she said slowly. “Maybe you have a third mode after all. Besides self-important and annoyed.”
I knew I did.
And without me really knowing how, that switch had just been flipped.