Page 103 of The Defender
I turned. “Actually, I do have something to tell you. Brooklyn didn’t answer her phone because she was with me. I went to her flat after the gala.”
Coach remained in the entryway. Not a single word left his mouth, and not a single movement disrupted his frame, but the air around him thickened like clouds gathering before a storm.
“When you found out we were living together, we really were just flatmates. We hadn’t crossed any line that would trigger Blackcastle’s anti-fraternization policy. That’s no longer true.” I swallowed. “Brooklyn came on my birthday trip to Budapest last weekend. We kissed. That was it. But tonight, we had a talk after the gala and, well, we’re officially dating. You’re the first person we’ve—I’ve—told. I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else.”
Still no reaction.
The grandfather clock ticked in the corner like the countdown timer on a bomb. The silence was painful, but I forged on.
“I understand your concerns about our relationship. Like you said, she’s your only daughter, and I disagree with her conclusion that you don’t care about her outside of football. I think you do care. You just don’t show it in a way that she can recognize.” I was toeing the line here, but Coach responded best to directness. Judging by the way his jaw worked, I’d hit a nerve. “I know I haven’t had a serious relationship since I transferred to Blackcastle, and I’ve probably broken a few hearts along the way. I’m not proud of that. But that’s because I never met anyone who made mewantto focus on something other than football—until Brooklyn. This is real, and I’m not going to fuck it up. I promise.”
Coach snorted. “You’re trying to tell me you’rethatserious about my daughter.”
“Yes.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“You don’t have a reason to. I can’t say anything that’ll magically wipe away your doubts. But…” The next part might actually get me punched, but it had to be said. “I’m not telling you all of this because I’m asking for your permission to date her. With all due respect, sir, that’s her choice to make. Like you said, she’s an adult, and she’s capable of making her owndecisions about her love life. However, I am telling you because I wouldliketo have your blessing. You’re an important part of Brooklyn’s life and an important part of mine as well, so I hope you’ll put aside your misgivings long enough to give us a chance. But if you don’t, we’re going to be together anyway. You can yell at me. You can make me run drills until I vomit. You can make me wear the fucking mascot costume and dance the ‘Macarena’ during halftime. It doesn’t matter. I’ll take it all because Brooklyn’s worth it. There’s nothing you can do or say that would change that.”
When I said my piece, I’d imagined my words would set off an explosion—screaming, shouting, glass shattering, objects being thrown. Instead, they disappeared into the void, swallowed whole by a blanket of suffocating silence.
Coach’s face appeared carved out of stone. His eyes pierced mine, and I had the eerie sense that he was mentally flaying my flesh from my bones.
But beneath the tightly leashed fury, I spotted a glimmer of something else.
Respect.
I waited, my muscles taut and my nerves frayed.
“I didn’t want her mother to take her, you know.” When Coach finally spoke again, his voice was quiet. I startled. That wasn’t the response I’d expected. “She was so young when we divorced, and Sienna has never been the most…nurturing person. But I was coming up in my career then, and as much as I wanted Brooklyn by my side, I thought she needed her mother. Someone who could relate to her and guide her through life in a way I couldn’t. In hindsight, I’m not sure I made the right choice. But because I did make it, I missed out on some of her biggest milestones. I missed her first date, her first breakup, and her first heartbreak. I missed her senior prom and her college graduation because it was the same day as the Euro Cup final.I thought things would change when she moved to London, but it’s been over twenty years. She’s not the little girl I remember anymore, and I don’t know how to connect with her when I’ve missed almost every stage of her growing up.”
He fell silent. The exhaustion I’d glimpsed earlier crept back into his face, deepening the grooves around his eyes and mouth.
“I believe you think your commitment to her is sincere,” he said. “But I’ve coached enough footballers to know how fickle they are off the pitch. Cars, women, houses. Their non-football passions rarely last in the long run. I don’t have much faith that you’re the exception.”
I flinched.Ouch. He had a point about fickle footballers in general, but his assessment stung nonetheless.
“However…” Coach ground his next words out between gritted teeth. “It’s clear that Brooklyn has a soft spot for you. If she wants to be with you, I won’t stand in her way. Not that I could stop her if I tried.” His mouth twisted with equal parts resignation and disapproval.
The tight band across my chest loosened. “Thank?—”
“I’m not finished.” He held up his hand, his eyes sparking with renewed ferocity. “If you hurt her inanyway—if you so much as make her shed a single tear—I will gut you like a fish and hang you up in the park to dry. I can always find a new captain and defender. You’re not irreplaceable. Is that clear?”
“Crystal.” Despite his graphic threat, I couldn’t stop a grin from emerging. “I hope you’ll tell Brooklyn what you just told me. She’d appreciate it.”
He snorted again. “The last time I took your advice, I walked in on you shirtless after you almost burned down her bloody flat.”
I wisely kept my mouth shut. Some statements did not need a response for the safety of all those involved.
Just when I thought I was in the clear, he asked, “Now, what were you doing at her flat until two in the morning? Don’t say talking. I wasn’t born yesterday.”
Was he seriously asking me that question? Didn’t dads always opt for blissful ignorance in these cases?
There was no way in hell I’d ever admit to having sex with his daughter. Brooklyn could give birth to my baby, and if Coach asked, I’d claim it was an immaculate conception.
“We were playing a game.” I threw out the first thing that came to mind.
“What game?”
