Page 11 of Wrong Pucking Player

I feel the way he gives me a glaring look, but since he’s not scolding me, it proves he’s satisfied that I’ve let go of his previous nickname, Cyrus Senior.

Honestly, I just did it to grind his gears after Wyatt and I broke up.

With a roll of his eyes, he’s looking at my bestie next to deliver the famous one eyebrow raise that’s judging her spontaneous decision to dye her hair. I feel like he wants to say something, but he’s holding his tongue. He always thinks before he speaks when it comes to Mikayla.

For me, he scolds first and consoles later.

Two different spectrums.

“I know,” Mikayla begins, raising her hands up to make stop signs. “Period problems.”

The poor man looks even more confused now.

I can’t really blame him. He’s the single father of all boys, Wyatt being the eldest.

“Women’s hair turns red when they’re on their period?” he asks Coach Johnson with a confused face that replicates how an older Wyatt in this state of flabbergasted would look like.

Which is why I’m laughing far too hard.

I’m positive Mikayla’s holding back her amusement out of respect for Coach Cyrus.

As for me, I respect him, hands down, but no way can I tame myself when something is damn right hilarious.

“No.” Coach Johnson looks hopelessly back at his best friend of thirty long years.

“Good evening, Mr. Cyrus,” Mikayla greets while I’m still attempting to stop myself from my laughing streak.

“Hello, Mikayla.” He greets her in return with an admirable smile. “And you can call me Everett.”

“I know,” Mikayla replies.

He’s told us to call him Everett for years, yet we still stick with Coach Cyrus or Mr. Cyrus.

Despite everything that happened with Mikayla’s mom’s passing, he still treats Mikayla like she’s his only daughter. He spoils her any way he can, even if it’s just emotional support.

I know the same support applies to me, even though I’m no longer dating his son.

I guess he understood that there were a lot of things put against us at that time.

Again, by now I bet Wyatt has found a woman far better than me.

Maybe a doctor, a lawyer, or someone with a professional many would be proud of in a small town like Strattonville.

Despite graduating and receiving my Honors in Bachelor of Science in Nursing at York University, Toronto, I doubt it’s enough to be “worthy” in the world of elite professions. I wasn’t the “smartest” cookie when it came to education, but I tried really damn hard to succeed.

Sometimes, I regret not being the typical individual who worked hard to learn their ABCs in elementary school or all the various equations in those complicated math classes, but when I put my mind onto something, I aim to achieve it.

No matter how many tries it takes.

“Mikayla has decided she wants to be adventurous,” Coach Johnson declares, pulling me out of my thoughts. I’m sure we’re still on the ‘Mikayla is no longer a brunette’ topic.

“That’s not a bad thing,” I point out, distracting myself by heading to the fridge and raiding it for one of my favorite drinks, chocolate milk. With a fitness schedule like mine, it’s hard to reach the daily protein goals needed to keep the muscles tight and the booty plump.

Muscle milk is the perfect drink for 21g of protein in one go.

The moment I discover the bottle of goodness, I gulp it down with ease. I’m on my last bit when Coach Johnson continues.

“Unless you decide to come home utterly wasted and singing Mary Had a Little Lamb while attempting to go up the flight of stairs.”

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