11. August

Chapter 11

August

A J wasn’t entirely sure what the strange feelings he was experiencing meant. While watching Bailey dress the Christmas tree with Ava, he felt almost attracted to his striker. His heart squeezed and something in his stomach fluttered, and he was altogether thrown off kilter.

It made no sense to him. None whatsoever.

He had never felt like this before. Not with a woman and certainly never with a man. He’d fleetingly acknowledged when other men were fit, and he’d obviously been attracted to women, but he’d never… felt things like this before.

It was overwhelming. He loved his daughter, and he loved his family, but he had never experienced this similar stirring of affection for someone he wasn’t related to.

That was kind of pathetic to admit, really, and he knew it. He was staring down forty and he’d never been in love.

Not that he was in love with Bailey.

But… fuck . He was attracted to him. He knew what that felt like and, as much as he wanted to convince himself otherwise, there wasn’t anything ‘almost’ about it. He was attracted to his striker. And when he watched the younger man so sweetly interacting with his daughter, his cold, dead heart actually yearned for the guy.

He’d never yearned for anyone before.

This strange welling of affection and attraction and —of all things— desire to explore a future not unlike the scene playing out in front of him had AJ confused and panicked.

It wasn’t so much the notion that Bailey was a man. When his niece had first come out, he had read whatever advice he could about sexuality, wanting to support her in every way he could, and so he knew that sexuality could be fluid. On top of that, he had fooled around with a couple of other boys back when he’d been at the Academy, and he’d thought that was something everyone did…but maybe that wasn’t the case. Maybe his curiosity and hormones at the time had been trying to tell him something about himself that he hadn’t been able to understand at the time.

So, no, it wasn’t that Bailey was a man. It was that he’d never had serious feelings for anyone in his life, and the timing for this revelation was absolutely shithouse.

Not to mention how inappropriate it was for him, as Bailey’s coach, to be having these feelings at all.

But how could he not have them? Bailey had become his closest friend over the past month. The man had even ditched a date to come and deal with his vomiting kid. He was even ensuring that AJ didn’t cock up his first ever Christmas with his daughter.

In the face of all that, AJ was powerless to avoid feelings. The fact that they were romantic and sexual in nature was still a bit of a surprise, though.

“AJ,” Bailey said his name in a tone that suggested he’d repeated himself more than once.

AJ blinked and gave himself a shake, realising that the object of his musings was looking at him in concern. “Hmm?”

“We asked if you wanted to put the star on the top of the tree,” Bailey answered, then frowned. “Are you okay? You’re looking a bit pale. Well,” he smirked, “more pale than usual.”

“Just because I do my best to avoid being fried by your skin-cancer inducing sun,” AJ grumbled, repeating his usual argument when it came to his lack of a tan, “doesn’t mean I’m pale. ”

Bailey visibly relaxed, and it warmed AJ to note that his unexpected crush (at his age, such a thing seemed ridiculous, but there he was anyway) seemed to genuinely care about him, too. “So…” Bailey prompted, jerking his head back in the direction of the Christmas tree, that ridiculous man bun of his practically pointing at it like bobbly arrow, “The star?”

AJ pushed himself up from the couch and smiled down at his daughter, suggesting, “How about we put it on together?”

Ava cheered and held one pointy arm of the star in her petite little hand as he hoisted her onto his hip and then, with his free hand, helped her to position the decoration on the top of the tree.

When he stood back to admire the finished product, he had to admit that Bailey had done a good job of it. It looked…festive. How the striker had managed to keep the decorations looking neat and not all clustered together when he’d had the assistance of a five-year-old throughout the process, AJ would never know.

“Can we turn it on now, Daddy?” Ava asked. “I want to see the pretty lights.”

The afternoon light was fading into the dusk of early evening, so AJ nodded. “Go for it, poppet.”

Bailey pointed out where the switch on the base of the tree was and she clicked it over. Instantly, the almost invisible strands of fibre optic cable burst to life in a charming spray of blue, red, green and yellow lights.

“Oooh,” Ava clutched at his hand, “it’s very pretty!” She looked up, but her head was turned to the right, her adoring gaze directed to Bailey, who held her other hand. AJ’s heart gave another maddening squeeze at how domestic the scene felt. Ava carried on blithely, unaware of the twisting of her father’s gut. “Thank you, Bailey!”

“Anything for you, princess,” was the striker’s reply.

“You staying for tea?” AJ blurted the question, suddenly nervous for the answer. Bailey was only twenty-six. He probably had a date lined up. He probably—

“I’d love to.”

Just like that, AJ’s nerves evaporated. He smiled. “Great. I’m going to barbecue some steaks tonight. Yes,” he looked down at his daughter between them, ignoring the rapid beating inside his chest, “bangers and mash for you.”

“A proper barbie, huh?” Bailey teased lightly. “We’ll turn you into an Aussie yet.”

“Well, I’m stuffed.” Bailey sat back on the couch with a groan, rubbing his taut abs.

Now that he had discovered his interest in them, AJ couldn’t stop wondering what it might be like to run his tongue over them. He felt fifteen again, unable to control his thoughts from turning to sex despite knowing he should not be fantasising about the man sitting next to him.

It was late. AJ had tucked Ava into bed an hour or so earlier, and then he and Bailey had picked at the leftovers from dinner, despite it not being in the best interest of Bailey’s mid-season meal plan.

Glancing down at his own belly, AJ stifled a sigh. He’d never been as toned as Bailey, though he’d been fit during the peak of his career. In the last couple of years, he’d slowed down, and middle-age spread had made it harder to maintain what toning he’d had. Now, after six months on the sidelines, despite still using the gym and going for daily jogs (pre-Ava), he’d definitely lost the battle against the bulge. His chest was still broad and firm, but there was no denying the dad bod he was sporting.

Even if things were different and he wasn’t Bailey’s coach, he doubted the much younger, much fitter man would ever find him attractive in return.

“You right?” Bailey’s voice broke into his musings again, and he looked up to find the man’s light-brown eyes trained on him with concern again. “I lost you there for a minute.”

AJ shrugged. “Just…thinking.”

“About…?”

“How much things’ve changed, I guess.” It was vague, but it wasn’t a lie.

Bailey’s gaze narrowed, an almost out-of-character shrewdness sparking in his eyes. “You’ve been through a lot in the past six months, and I’m guessing the lead-up to your retirement was also shitty.”

AJ cringed at the reminder of the death of his beloved career, but nodded. “Yeah. I’m regretting what a twat I was.” Where that confession had bubbled up from, he’d never know. But it was true, and it was a surprising weight off his shoulders to voice it. “I should’ve made the best of the end, y’know? Instead, I fucking wasted it.”

He’d spiralled and wallowed and essentially thrown a giant, long-term temper tantrum over the decline of his career. Objectively speaking, upon reflection, he’d made a right tit of himself for all the world to see. No wonder the only club interested in taking him on as a coach had been a desperately new one in Australia, of all places.

Not that he was unhappy there. He’d resented it at first, and he still hated the sweltering heat and humidity, but the team were fucking awesome, and it was satisfying to watch them climb the ladder during their debut season. To be a part of that success gave him a sense of accomplishment.

“If I knew the timer was counting down on my career, I’d probably be the same,” Bailey said softly. “Soccer’s been my whole life since I was a kid. I reckon you were the same, right?” AJ nodded, and Bailey continued. “The adrenaline rush from a game is addictive. Being a part of a team is comforting. Having that taken away…” he trailed off and blew out a breath, shaking his head. He’d taken down his ever-present man bun earlier, and the light brown waves of hair flowed over his shoulders, swaying with the movement of his head. AJ’s fingers itched to see if it was as silken as it looked. “So, yeah, mate. I get it. But…you’re still in the game. I know you’re not playing, but you’re teaching us stuff that’s helping us win.” He smirked. “When your striker gets his head out of his arse and listens, anyway.”

AJ couldn’t explain what spurred him to lean forward, cupping Bailey’s strong jaw with one of his own beefy palms and placing his lips upon the younger man’s.

But, even so, the kiss was perfect .

It was tentative and sweet, and he felt the moment that Bailey’s rigid shock melted away. His striker made a surprised, pleased sound at the back of his throat before kissing him back, opening his lips, silently encouraging AJ to do the same. Then their tongues met, slow and exploratory, and fireworks burst in AJ’s brain at how good and right it felt to be doing this.

To be doing this with Bailey Peters.

In that moment, Bailey wasn’t his subordinate. He wasn’t the cocky young player he’d spent weeks trying to tame. Instead, he was the man who had taken pity on him when his life had unravelled. He was the friend AJ had begrudgingly made when he’d felt lonely and lost. He was his daughter’s second favourite person in the entire world, and possibly AJ’s now as well.

He was a safe space. Ava’s safe space. AJ’s safe space.

And his kisses were intoxicating.