MILES
The players gaze at me, wincing as they read my glare. I’m trying to play by the owner and Marilyn’s rules, but most of these guys are still playing like shit.
There’s too much competition, and they refuse to work together.
“Levon,” I growl, watching as the blonde assistant captain snaps to attention. “Would you like to tell everyone how we are fucking up at practice today?”
“There’s no unity,” he says immediately, standing tall and glaring at the wall. His hands fist at his sides, but not because he’s angry at me. No, he’s pissed at himself and his team. “On the ice at a game, we need to be laser focused. The chirping is meant to fuck with the other team’s playing, not piss each other off.”
“Correct. So why are you fighting with each other?” I ask, my voice reminding me of crushed gravel. I’m trying to keep my temper, but it’s not working very well for me.
“We’re fucking up,” Kane speaks up, backing up Levon. That’s not something that I’d expect until recently, because they’re usually at each other’s throats.
“We’re willing to work on it,” Julius rasps, standing as well.
The locker room smells like sweat and gross gear that needs to be cleaned, a mixture of scents that I’m well used to. Using it to anchor myself, I give a curt nod.
“No one wants a repeat of doing sprints until you all puke,” I remind them. “Marilyn is giving the team an opportunity to bring balance to us. She believes there’s too much testosterone and competition among y’all. Are you all doing what’s asked of you?”
“I have a date soon,” Levon grumbles. “I don’t like this. I think I would rather do sprints on the ice until I puke.”
I am pretty sure he’s fucking the new team doctor. They’ve been getting closer than is appropriate. I press my lips together because it’s none of my business. Despite the disjointed playing of the team, I know he takes hockey seriously. Who he fucks is up to him.
“Playing along won’t kill you,” I remind him. “Look, we have some big games coming up. Do you all want to play or forfeit before we even get on the ice.”
“Are you calling us losers?” someone yells out. I can’t tell who it is because it’s muffled, so I shrug instead.
“Are you going to play like you are?” I ask. “You determine how the world sees you. I can coach you, run plays until I’m blue in the goddamned face, but if you’re not willing to pull together as a team, it’s all for nothing. Hockey is not a one person sport and it never will be. Wash up. It’s rank as fuck in here.”
Knocking on a locker for emphasis, I leave them to their thoughts. The truth is that I’m not sure what else to do. Some days they have their shit together and they play like a dream, while others they all seem to have their heads in the clouds. They say the right partner can turn it all around for a man, but I’m a little too pessimistic to believe that.
“Coach Miles! Do you have a moment for me?”
My eyes threaten to roll all the way back in my head, but I force a polite smile on my lips as I turn to wait for Marilyn to catch up to my long legs. Apparently, if you talk about the dragon lady, she appears. I need to keep that in mind.
“Levon is still giving me some push back when it comes to working with me,” she begins, following me as I continue to walk.
My long legs easily take two of her steps, and her heels click clack as she hurries after me.
“Mmhmm,” I grunt. “How do you think I’ll be able to help you with this?”
“Go with him on the date, of course,” she says, making my feet tangle with her words. “You can be his moral support, and also ensure he shows up before we throw him into a charity event where he could embarrass us all.”
“Excuse me? I don’t believe that I heard that correctly,” I grumble. “I’m just the coach. No one wants to see me anywhere near a woman on a date. Your plan is to get the other players to work together through the balance of an omega. Please keep me out of your plans.”
“He respects you,” she hisses, trying again. “If Levon stands this girl up, I swear on everything?—”
Fuck.If Levon stands this girl up, it will definitely look bad for the team. The press has been eating up these little dates that Marilyn has been setting up, and has even had some success in making love connections. Is it a crime that I don’t want to be involved with them?
Taking a deep breath that does nothing for my stress levels, I blow it out. I’m the one that my team leans on. Of course I have to be a good example. Fuck, I’m too damn old for this.
“If and only if Levon stands this girl up, then I’ll get involved, Marilyn,” I growl. “Is that understood? Let’s not borrow trouble where there’s none to be had.”
I leave her behind as I continue to my office, hoping against hope that Levon does as he’s supposed to. He’s a good guy, but stubborn as fuck. There have been a lot of altercations that I’ve gotten him out of over the years. Thankfully, the bar fights are less frequent now, and I don’t have to breathe down his throat to keep him in line.
Be a coach for the love of the game. It’ll be fun, they said. An easy life even. I don’t mind Nashville, the tourists, or the traffic. It’s the team drama that gets me. Fuck me. I feel like I’m the one who needs a date with a pretty girl to bat their eyes at me and flirt, but I’m too surly of an asshole to be able to deal with small talk.
It actually makes me break into hives. Scratching at an imaginary itch, I hole up in my office to avoid the world.
