I pace to the opposite end, folding my hands behind my neck, and when I turn around, Coach Bastion is sitting on the backrest of the bench with his body leaning forward and elbows resting on his knees. His hard stare does little to intimidate me, but I respect the boundaries Coach Shuster puts in place by standing between us. He points at Coach Bastion first.
“I swear to God, Danny, if I find out this bullshit started with you . . .” Coach Bastion holds up his palms and boasts his best, innocent expression with wide eyes and an open mouth. I almost forgot that was his first name until Coach shouted it at him.
“And you. Is this because your brother went to Texas and you didn’t? Because you’re a smart kid, and you know it had nothing to do with shit like him being better, or you not being ready. Texas owns him. They needed a part, and he plays that part. So they pulled him out of the toolbox. That’s it.” Coach stares at me with his jaw locked, and I nod.
“Yeah, I get that. And no, sir. I honestly don’t give a shit what Texas does with or thinks about my brother.”
Coach Shuster takes a step back, and Bastion chuckles over his shoulder. The two of them are likely a little shocked to hear my blunt honesty on the subject.
“Fucking hell,” Coach Shuster says, rubbing both palms over his face. He turns to Coach Bastion and waves him back to the field. “Go run BP. And try to keep your goddamn mouth shut.”
Coach Bastion takes off, not even bothering to glance my way and gloat that he’s being set free. He knows he’s on a shit list.
“Take a seat,” Coach Shuster says, tilting his head toward the bench.
I’m too wired to sit, though, so I shake my head. “Can’t. No disrespect.” My nostrils flex, like a bull’s.
“Yeah, all right. Fine. I’ll sit, then.” He pulls his hat from his head and tosses it on the bench before sitting next to it. He rubs his fists in his eyes as he mutters something like, “Goddamn social media bullshit.”
“Look, I don’t have those tweeters or books or whatever shit that’s on phones. I don’t have time for that stuff. And if it isn’t going to help me put together wins on the field, I don’t need it. If I need to see pictures of my grandkids, my wife shows them to me. Other than that, I use my phone to read scores and take phone calls.”
I blink slowly, folding my arms over my chest, wondering what his point is.
“Shit, sorry about the tirade.” He snags his hat from the bench and pushes his fist inside, ironing out the dents before slicking his thinning hair back with one hand and pushing the hat back in place on his head. “What I’m trying to say is, I don’t understand how social media works, but Campbell, our PR gal, filled me in last night. She said there was some viral story going around about you and your brother and Colby’s past. And then Coach Bastion heard us talking about it before the press briefing, and he told me he has concerns about how close you and Colby seem?—”
“She’s my best friend,” I butt in.
He pauses and snaps his mouth shut, nodding and working his jaw for a moment before uttering, “I get that.”
“No, you don’t. Nobody does. Colby Kessler is the only person I’ve ever been fully myself with. I trust her more thananyone in this entire world. When she tells me I’m playing like trash, she means it. And if she says I’m on the right path, then I better keep going. It’s what makes her a great coach. Not just for this team, but for me. She’s a great fucking coach. Sorry for the swear, sir.”
His lips twitch with a short smirk and he holds up a hand.
“I like the fucking passion,” he says, making a joke.
It eases the tightness in my chest a little. I still can’t sit, though.
“Why did you send her home?”
Coach draws in a long breath, his shoulders lifting near his ears before dropping with his sudden exhale.
“It had nothing to do with Coach Kessler or her ability. Let’s get that out of the way first,” he says.
“Okay, then send me home. Or Coach Woman Hater over there.”
“Hey, hey,” he says. I level him with a look, though, and he seems unable to fully disagree with my assessment.
“Your feelings about Coach Bastion aside, he isn’t a part of this situation. It’s a media optics thing, and when Campbell let me know that people were bringing up the accident, I worried that it might upset Coach Kessler.”
“It upsetsme,” I say, subtly pointing out to him that it’s wrong to blame a woman for feeling upset. “It’s a human emotion. People get upset when other people are assholes.”
His gaze drops, and he stares at his hands folded in his lap for a long, quiet moment.
“You’re not wrong, Jayden. But this isn’t one of those problems I get to solve and call it a day. I decided to send Colby home to give everyone some space. I know she’s valuable to this team, and I’m not looking to cut her loose. But I didn’t want rumors coming to a boiling point and ownership handing down orders to get rid of her.
“It might mean she doesn’t work with you. Or maybe she’s in analytics, and not hands-on with players. At least until you get called up, which I still believe is in your near future.”
I see his point, and in a way, I admire his ability to be sensible. But he’s not the one in love with a woman who is hurting and alone. And he’s not the guy who watched her crumble to pieces when a deputy delivered her father devastating news. He didn’t cry alongside her when we both realized we had lost a parent. And he couldn’t understand the unspoken yearning that lives deep in my chest, having been told to stay away from her for years.
