Page 32 of The Coach

“That’s pretty normal.”

“Yeah but…” I pause, trying to formulate the words I want to say so I don’t sound like a total idiot. “I want to lead this team to be the best they can be. I want them to feel confident and sure of the leader I am. When we lose, I wonder if it’s because I’m not giving them what they need.”

These were words I would never admit to anyone else. The coaches would lose faith, my friends would wave the words off and give me some random platitudes, my parents, too, and if word got back to my players, they would lose any confidence they gained.

“I can understand that,” she replies, surprising me. “It’s hard to hold all of that on your shoulders, Tan. You have to be able to let someone else help you carry that burden, or it’s going to affect how you lead them.”

I stare at her. “Smart and beautiful.”

“And here for you.” She replies confidently, giving me a boost with her words.

The words wash over me. I’ve never had someone that I felt compelled to share things with other than things that were obvious. Being upset over a loss was common enough, but there was deeper rooted meaning to it when you were a coach.

“I think I struggle because I don’t feel…” Was I really going to say it out loud? Even in my head, the words felt stupid, corny. “I don’t feel worthy to be their coach sometimes.”

Mick's brows furrow slightly, but she doesn’t reply immediately. She pauses, looks to the side and processes my words before she responds. I wait as patiently as I can.

“I think… that’s also fair.” She finally says, taking her hand and resting it under her jaw. “You’re young. Younger than any of the coaches on staff. You probably feel you should prove something to them, make them see that you’re worthy of the job.”

I clear my throat. “Yeah, I guess that’s it. I want to do a good job.”

“Tanner.” Her words are soft, and I turn my gaze that’s drifted away in thought back to hers. “You are an amazing hockey coach. You know what you’re talking about. You know your players and their strengths and weaknesses. I know you’ve studied every one of them.”

Maybe because when she was over last week, she’d woken up in the middle of the night to find me on my iPad, reviewing game footage.

“Those guys also trust you. So, you had a loss. You know the other team played viciously. I’m almost positive tomorrow will be different.”

I don’t reply, my head and heart hoping that she was right.

“Lots of coaches lose games, Tanner. But that doesn’t mean they didn’t do everything in their power to lead their players the best they could. If anything, I’ll bet the players will play harder, just to prove to you that you aren’t wasting your time on them. They’re a good team, you’re an excellent coach. Together, you guys will come through it stronger.”

“You should be a motivational speaker,” I reply, deflecting a little.

“But you know I’m right.”

“I guess we’ll see.” Sighing, I tilt to the side and let my head rest on a pillow. I watch Mick watching me, her eyes soft on mine, and I smile. “I really love talking to you, you know.”

“One of the best parts of my day is talking with you.”

I know she means it, too. She’s had boyfriends in the past, so she’s told me that would be away for vacation or work or whatever the hell bullshit kept them away and would barely communicate with her while they were gone.

I swore to myself I’d be different. Though it wasn’t a hardship to do so. I find myself needing to talk to her, to hear her voice. And after tonight, I’m slowly realizing that I can have a safe space to unburden everything I feel without having it pinned against me.

I watch as she props the phone up against something and sits up, whipping her sweatshirt over her head. I lift my brows as I watch, my arousal coming on suddenly. “Watcha doing?

She laughs and leans back down, the practically see-through tank she’s wearing hides nothing from me, and I straighten. “Just hot in here.”

“Weird, it’s hot in here, too.”

Mick rolls her eyes. “Guys are so easy.”

“Yes,” I agree, my eyes heating as she lies on her back, her nipples peeking through her shirt. “I love that shirt.”

She giggles and sighs, “You said that last time I wore it.”

“It’s a deep-rooted kind of love. One that should be spoken of often.”

Mick shakes her head. “Guys are easy and weird.”

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