6. August

Chapter 6

August

A J had known he should have kept his mouth shut. What the fuck had he been thinking opening up to Bailey —the pain in his arse— Peters, of all people?

The loneliness was getting to him, that was all. Having the stress of this new job, knowing that the team’s owners were expecting the team’s premiere season to be a successful one and that it was riding on his shoulders to ensure it was hard enough. But being a single dad was also harder than he’d thought it would be.

Once the shine of him being someone new and different had worn off, Ava had gotten comfortable…which meant that she had started to tantrum and test his limits. His sister had assured him that it was a good sign —that Ava saw him as a safe space or some shit like that— but all it was doing was hiking up his blood pressure. Now that he was pushing forty, that had to be a bad thing, right?

Then in walked Peters, looking fresh and youthful at his entire twenty-six years of age, and delivered a pile of necessities to his daughter which he honestly should have thought about organising for her himself.

The gesture, however, was a kind one and he did genuinely appreciate it. In fact, for half a moment, he’d felt a spark of something undefinable for Peters. Something softer and warmer than the irritation which usually boiled his blood any time his key striker was around.

That had to be the reason he’d lowered his defences and confessed how terribly he was struggling. A momentary weakness caused by…what? Elation at seeing the younger man interact so easily and sweetly with his daughter? Relief, perhaps, that for just a moment, someone else was helping him with her?

It had been a sweet picture, he had to admit that. Ava’s hair was a similar shade of brownish-blonde to Peters’ own, making them appear a pigeon pair. Like…siblings, perhaps? No, that didn’t feel right. An uncle and a niece? Well, that was a closer comparison, but it still felt wrong somehow.

“I’m not laughing at you, mate,” Peters’ broad Australian accent cut into his musing, and he remembered that he was scowling across the table at the other man, still clutching his bottle of water as condensation ran down the plastic surface and puddled on the glass tabletop.

“You could’ve fooled me.” AJ felt embarrassment creep over him. He didn’t like people thinking he was weak or incompetent, and in that moment he felt both of those things keenly.

“I mean, I was laughing at the surface of the sun thing,” Peters continued with a shrug, leaning back in his chair. “You’re really not a fan of the weather here, are you?”

“What gave it away?” AJ asked scathingly, still feeling the itch of being judged.

Instead of mocking him, Peters said, “I get it. My brother-in-law’s from Scotland. Love his accent,” there was a pause as Peters’ gaze went distant and a tiny smile played on his pouty lips. AJ felt the strangest pang of jealousy and had no idea what had caused it. But then Peters continued, and the moment was gone. “Anyway, it took him a couple of years to acclimatise to the weather in Adelaide…and summer here is even more humid than down there.”

“So, you’re saying I’m going to hate it here for another couple of years?”

Peters looked stricken, then concerned. He leaned forward again, almost whispering as he asked, “You really hate it here?”

The young man looked so much like a kicked puppy that AJ almost asked him if he was part Golden Retriever. Feeling irrationally guilty for having put the expression on Peters’ youthful face, he sighed and shook his head. “No, Peters. Not really. I’m actually really enjoying coaching you lot, even when my captain gives me grief.”

“Bailey.”

AJ blinked. “What?”

“Bailey. My name is Bailey. I hate being called by my last name. It feels…I dunno. Impersonal. Like…like I’m back at school or something.”

“Bailey,” AJ repeated, testing the name out on his tongue. It felt strange to be calling one of his team by their first name: he called everyone by their surnames. But this wasn’t the pitch, this was his home, and if… Bailey …was going to be spending Christmas with him and Ava, it only made sense to call him by his given name. “Right. Well, I make no promises on the pitch, but…I’ll try to remember that when we’re not working.”

Bailey beamed at him. If he had been a dog, AJ imagined he’d be wagging his tail.

“Cheers. I appreciate it.” His striker cocked his head and cheekily asked, “Does that mean I can call you August instead of Coach or Jacobs?”

As much as AJ disliked his more formal-sounding given name, his stomach did a weird flip-flop when Bailey said it out loud. Clearing his throat, he replied, “I prefer AJ, actually. August makes me feel like my mum’s just found my stash of lads’ mags.”

Bailey blinked at him in confusion before an appealing blush spread over his cheeks. “Oh. Right. Forgot you grew up without the internet.”

“Oi,” AJ cringed, suddenly reminded that there was a good thirteen years between them, “way to make me feel old, mate.”

“Sorry.” His striker did look appropriately apologetic, widening his eyes and giving him that kicked puppy expression again. Then he shook himself and brightened. “So. AJ, huh? I like it.”

AJ never would have thought that he needed, much less wanted, the young prick’s approval, but hearing it made him feel oddly happy. It was likely the fact that he’d gone months without any real social connections, so now he was desperate to have some positive, casual interactions with anyone who came along. Even Bailey fucking Peters.

“Anyway,” Bailey continued, oblivious to the twisted, altogether bizarre path AJ’s thoughts were taking, “you were saying you do actually love the awesome team you’re coaching, especially your extremely talented captain?”

AJ snorted. “Don’t push it, Pe—Bailey.”

Bailey simply grinned at him. And, oddly, AJ felt some of the tension he’d been carrying just melt away.