Page 8 of The Coach

My line of sight keeps tracking back to her. I had hoped I would be able to contact her once I officially moved here. That night we had together was unlike anything I have ever experienced, and now I guess it makes more sense. She's more like me than I even knew that night. Younger than I had guessed, not because she looks older but because she just came across with such confidence, I couldn't have imagined she was only twenty-four. And she left such an impression on me, I was determined to track her down when I had everything sorted.

But now this changes everything. And even more than I already wanted to, I need to set her straight tonight before this gets any more out of hand.

Andy

After practice, our coach Mitch gathered us all and explained that he's unwell and will be stepping down as our coach. I'm devastated. He is the most amazing mentor I have ever had. I've grown so much in the last two years, all because of him. I'm not one to show my emotions openly, but I can feel tears collecting in my eyes. I try to blink them away. He's too sick to train us. Luna takes my hand, giving it a squeeze, and Darcy comes to stand by our side looking just as upset.

Then I notice him. An uncomfortable flush of heat sweeps over me. I didn't think I would ever see him again. But it's the devil himself—or at least that's how I have painted him in my head for the last four weeks. Fucking Brad Swift. What is he doing here standing behind our coach next to Ava, all relaxed, leaning up against a table, with that stupid smug smirk on his face? I want to slap it off.

He looks so cool and calm and gorgeous, and I hate him even more. My pulse increases. That teamed with the burning feeling of my skin makes me feel like I need to get out of here. Why is my body reacting to the sight of him, like I want to jump his bones, when I know what an asshole he is? I'm more messed up than I originally thought.

Mitch says the words I knew were coming. Brad is our new coach.

I glance at the girls, with fear in my eyes, I'm sure. This is too much, and I bite the inside of my mouth to stop the tears. My beautiful friends' faces say it all. Fuck, this cheating asshole is our new coach. I want to die or kill him. I'm being dramatic, I know, but I don't even want to look in his direction, much less see him four times a week at practice, then games, and have him tell me what to do. He can't be my mentor like Mitch has been. This is total bullshit.

He steps forward and I send daggers with my eyes. "Ladies, I'm sure the news of losing such a wonderful coach is devastating to say the least, but if you put your trust in me, I'm sure we will be able to work together and bring home a win this year." He's smooth and charming as hell, and the other members of my team eat up his every word. They'll all be swooning over him. If I didn't know the truth about him, I would be the same. But I do!

I narrow my eyes at him, burning a hole through his skull, and right on cue, he glances my way. I'm not going to make this easy for him, not at all. I'm going to make him suffer for what he did to his wife and me. I've thought a couple of times over the last few weeks about contacting her and telling her what he did—whatwedid—but how do you even do that?

He tells us his game plan for this weekend then dismisses us.

Luna grabs me by both hands. "Oh my fucking God! What are you going to do, babe?"

I blink back at her, my mind totally blank. "I think I'm in shock. Let's get out of here, I need time to process this before I work out what to do."

I grab my bag and approach Mitch, throwing my arms around him in an embrace. "I know I'm a major pain in your ass but thank you for everything you've done for me. I wouldn't be the player I am if it weren't for you," I tell him.

I wish I could do something to help him. He has been so influential in my life, I wish I could do something to give back to him. Saying thank you doesn't really seem good enough.

"Thanks, Coach," says Luna shyly from next to me.

He pats me on the back, probably feeling awkward as fuck that I'm hugging him. So I pull back before I start blubbering on his shoulder.

He smiles proudly at us both. "Andrea, you have the ability to go far, just don't let your attitude affect your game. And be nice to the new guy, I saw the look you gave him. He deserves a chance, just like you gave me."

"I didn't go easy on you when I first started here either." I smirk, remembering what I was like. People have to earn my respect, and Mitch has. But Brad definitely has not! "I'll try." It's the best I can offer to him, and I'm saying that for Mitch's sake and not Brad's, because fuck that. Brad is on my shit list, and I intend to give him hell.

"Good. I'll still be around if you need me."

He turns his attention to Luna. "You were on fire tonight. Keep that up this season."

"Thanks. Good luck with everything, Coach." She smiles, and we go to walk away. I want out of this room before I have to look at Brad again. He makes my blood boil.

"Andrea, can I see you for a sec before you go?" Brad's deep voice calls across the room. Ahh, that accent. He sounds fucking sexy, and it makes me hate him even more. Damn it. I don't want it to, but it takes me back to that night, before I knew he was married. His voice has a seriously dangerous effect on me. But then I remember I hate this man.

I roll my eyes at Luna. "I'll catch a lift with Darcy and see you back home," she says, offering me a sympathetic smile.

I turn and stalk reluctantly over to him, folding my arms over my chest in an overly dramatic fashion. I wait for whatever it is he just has to say to me. He looks serious, so uptight and more his age, different to the fun-loving guy I met that night. He can't seem to find his words, and I wonder why when he's now confronted with his shitty decision.

"What do you want?" I snap, giving him the death stare of the century. He might have just been announced as our new coach, but it doesn't mean I have to be happy about it. Or play nice.

He looks completely unfazed by my attitude, and I want to push him, piss him off just like he has me. "Just a quick chat. I think unfortunately I have given you the wrong first impression." His gaze takes me in, and I can't tell from the way he looks at me what he's thinking, but it feels like there's more swirling in the air between us than just my hate for him.

I glance around the room; it's empty, just the two of us left. Good, I can actually speak my mind without being overheard. My eyes return to his and I place my hands on my hips. "I think you're fucking right about that."

His stare heats even more, and I can see how easy it's going to be to push his buttons. "Andrea. I'm your coach, do not speak to me like that. While we are at training and the games, you are to respect me, no matter how you might feel."

I narrow my eyes at him, hoping I match his intensity. It kills me that he has authority over me. But I'm also not scared enough to rein in my crazy. This dude deserves everything I throw at him. "You weren't my coach when you bent me over your hotel balcony and fucked me from behind, though, were you." I poke him again. "When you cheated on your wife with me." I growl, the heat radiating off my face the madder I get with him. I want to storm out of here, make a scene, now that I've said my piece, but then I wouldn't get to know what it is that he feels the need to say to me. And part of me wants to hear it, what his pathetic excuse could possibly be to sleep around on his poor wife.

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