If I can’t mess with them, what’s the fun in being their coach?
The doors to the bus open, and I sigh as I watch everyone get off.
“Team bonding?” Ares asks as he follows me out.
“I’m willing to try anything at this point,” I admit.
“It’s not a bad idea,” he says. “Whatever your motivation is, they know not to get too sloshed before we head out to our next location.”
“Not if they don’t want to be fined for it,” I say, walking inside the bar. It’s exactly what you’d expect from a sports bar, with the nondescript name of The Spot heralding where we are.
The bar is busy, and people cheer when they realize who we are. We’re overdressed, but no one seems to care. We won our game, and it’s helping to rebuild our confidence after losing to the New Orleans Dragons.
It doesn’t matter that it was hard fought, it still stings.
Blowing out a breath, I move over to a bartender and order a beer. It’s mostly for something to do as I gaze around the bar. I feel like I have to watch my kids, which is funny because some of my players are only a few years younger than I am.
“So you’re from out of town?” the bartender asks with a smile, sliding my beer over.
She’s pretty, with blonde hair and big tits, but I couldn’t be less interested. A couple of weeks ago? I may have been tempted.
“Traveling with the team,” I say with a nod, sliding over my money. “Thanks for this.”
“Are you staying the night?” she asks. “I get off at two.”
Ugh, why is she choosing to flirt with me tonight of all days.
“Early night,” I sidestep gracefully. “Appreciate it.”
Moving away from the bar, I take a small sip of my beer. The guys are chatting with each other, and a few already have girls on their laps. I’m not much for bars anymore, but as I observe my team, I have to admit that this shit is important.
If I’m not a fan of the bars, I may need to begin implementing meals at my home here and there when things chill the fuck out. A long train of away games means that’s not going to happen anytime soon.
Sometimes, it makes it difficult to remember where I am when I open my eyes in a new city each day, but there’s still excitement every fucking game. The day there isn’t, is the day I know it’s time for me to be done.
Pulling out my phone, I search for Caelia’s social media accounts. It’s becoming a daily occurrence now. Ineedto see her.
So I’m currently cyberstalking her. Not my finest moment, but these are desperate times.
I don’t bother to look her up on the Dragons’ hockey accounts tonight because she never shows her face there. Instead, she usually does cute daily things on her own platforms with her face. Taking another small sip of the very flat beer, I find her.
She’s beside her dad with her phone up in the video as she walks and talks. The reason I can tell it’s him is due to the frame showing his body here and there. No one else is built like the Dragon’s coach. He’s a fucking tree trunk with legs.
It’s a quick, simple video talking about how she wants to offer editing tutorials for those interested in content creation. My eyesnarrow as she explains that some people had reached out asking for help.
“I hope you’re charging for this,” I murmur under my breath. Despite my best efforts, I have peeked at the Dragons’ socials. The difference in content over the last couple of weeks is obvious, and it’s clear to me that it’s because Caelia is now in charge of it.
Before her, there weren’t many posts, and it’s clear someone was attempting to do the work poorly at that.
“I have also been told I have to charge for my services,” she says, rolling her eyes in her father’s direction. “It won’t be a ton because we all start somewhere, and I’ll offer amateur and advanced courses. I don’t have a ton of time since I’m on the road, but I’ll upload as much as I can. Bye!”
“Who is that?” Levon asks, leaning in my direction.
There’s another bus with staff, which means that his doctor is probably already at the hotel, waiting for Levon to finish up. I would feel badly about dragging everyone out after a long day, except I don’t have that much of a heart.
“You know her,” I shrug. “It’s Coach Freedman’s daughter.”
“Why are you watching her videos?” he asks, brows drawing down in confusion.
