“Hey, Coach, can we go through the—whoa, small human!” Jacobs looked up from his desk, clearly attempting to hide his amusement at Bailey’s shock.
Bailey shook his head, his man-bun wobbling with the movement. He knew he was staring at the kid with obvious surprise, but a little girl was thelastthing he’d expected to find in his acerbic coach’s office.
“Hi,” the kid chirped with a wave of her hand, swinging her legs in the chair. Her toes barely brushed the floor, even with theway she was perched precariously on the edge of her seat. “I’m Ava. What’s your name?”
“Uh, Bailey,” he blinked, then looked her over properly. But fuck if she wasn’t the spitting image of Jacobs, with the exception of lighter-coloured hair. She had the same jawline as his coach —without the accompanying beard, of course— and the same dazzling blue eyes. And her smile was just as disarming as Jacobs’, too, not that Bailey could say Jacobs had ever directed such a happy look his way. Then there was the accent, too.
This must be his kid.
It rankled a little that Jacobs had been so standoffish with the team that they hadn’t even realised the man was a dad. Bailey would have preferred a coach who respected them enough to share details like that. But Jacobs had been a bit of a tosser since he’d started coaching them; something like this should not surprise him now.
Exchanging his shocked expression for a pleasant smile, Bailey barely glanced at his coach before asking the kid, “How old are you, Ava?”
The little girl continued to swing her legs, holding up her little hand, slightly pudgy digits spread wide. “Five!” She answered happily. “Almost six.”
The adorable little thing had a slight lisp, too.
“Wow. Practically a teenager!”
Bailey’s response elicited a peal of laughter —giggly and light— from the girl, and he was surprised to see Jacobs’ lips also turn up in response.
“That’sold!” Ava protested, drawing out the word with exaggeration. “Almost as old as Daddy!”
“Hey now,” AJ intervened, pointing his index finger at her in mock consternation as Bailey watched on with fascination, “I’mnot that old, poppet.” He turned the finger on Bailey. “And not a word out of you.”
Smirking, Bailey mimed zipping his own lips.
This playful side of Jacobs was very unexpected.
He liked it.
After a moment of silence passed comfortably, Jacobs seemed to realise that Bailey had come to him with a genuine query. Attention back on Ava, the older man suggested that she wear her headphones and watch cartoons on the tablet he’d set up for her.
With the little girl properly distracted, he glanced back up at his captain, who had been waiting patiently through the whole thing. To be perfectly honest, Bailey was absolutely floored by the difference in Jacobs as he interacted with Ava.
“Since when do you have a kid?” Bailey blurted the question. “You’ve been here, what? Four months? No mention of her. No photos on your desk. Nothing.”
To Bailey’s continued surprise, Jacobs sighed and said, “Transparency is something I expect from you lot, so I’m going to offer the same in return,” he began, though his tone was wary. “You’ve probably noticed that my head hasn’t been in the game the last couple of weeks, and you deserve an explanation.”
Bailey frowned, feeling a bit guilty that he hadn’t actually noticed his coach’s distraction. In fact, any time August Jacobs deigned to snap at him, all he heard was ‘Blah blah blah, I’m a pompous twat’ or whatever the Brits said. And, outside of training and game days, he didn’t give his coach a whole lot of thought.
Why would he? The man was a grumpy former Premier League player who never let them forget just how lucky they should consider themselves that he’d agreed to come over to the penal colony to teach them about ‘real football’.
That attitude was the only fly in the ointment of Bailey’s life. Well, that and missing his own family back in Adelaide. However, he could handle the bouts of homesickness which occasionally hit him. Hecouldn’thandle his coach being a monumental wanker.
Ignorant of the maelstrom building in Bailey’s head, Jacobs gestured for him to take the spare seat across from his desk. Bailey complied and watched his coach’s shoulders slump.
“Apparently I’ve had a daughter for close to six years,” Jacobs explained drily, “but her mother only saw fit to inform me of the fact two weeks ago.”
Bailey’s eyebrows climbed towards his hairline, and he felt his expression darken as he properly processed the words. “Oh,Coach,” he offered with empathy, his gaze flicking back over to the little girl curled up in the seat on his left, “that’s gotta be stressful.”
Not to mention a little heartbreaking. If he’d found out that he’d missed almost six years of his own kid’s life (not that he had any), he would be devastated.
Jacobs just sighed. “Yeah, well, it is what it is.”
“So now you’ve gotta get used to the shared custody thing, right?” Bailey’s face fell again. “My brother’s going through that right now with his divorce…but there’s no ocean between him and his kid, so—”
“No. Actually, Ava’s living with me permanently.”