15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Shawn

T hree weeks later, I flung my arm around Marketa’s shoulder, giving her a kiss on the cheek as we walked down the sidewalk on 4th Ave. She claimed that some of the shops down this way were her favorite and I loved the thought of taking her shopping.

“Is there anything in particular you want?”

“No, not really. I love browsing more than anything else sometimes.”

“Window shopping,” I groaned, making her laugh and hit my stomach. “Why the hell is my phone buzzing all of a sudden?” I reached for mine at the same time she grabbed hers.

We both opened our social apps, and my jaw nearly hit the ground. There were pictures of us from just a few moments ago, having a cozy lunch, walking hand in hand, and even just now, with my arms around her. There was no mistaking how happy we looked, and how together we were. Especially not with the kiss we shared in the back corner.

And there was no way to stop her dad from seeing anything like this.

“Shit,” she muttered, and I had to agree with her. This had disaster written all over it and there was just no way to stop it.

We hurried to the arena and rushed down the halls, not caring who saw us together at this point. It was evident that someone was watching us closely and word was spreading pretty fast about us being together.

I watched as our social media coordinator walked into the Coach’s office and had to stop. There was no doubt what she was showing the coach, and I glanced at Marketa.

“Shit,” she mumbled again, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What the fuck is this!”

We both cringed as the yell rang down the hallway. His door slammed open, and he looked around, quickly spotting us, and stormed over.

“This is done! Do you hear me? I’m not sure what the fuck you’re thinking Colter, but I will not have this shit happening. You will not disrespect me. You’re benched for the game and you’re fucking lucky I’m even letting you near the court!”

Before I could utter anything, he turned and stalked back to his office, slamming the door loud enough to rattle some of the pictures on the wall.

I ran my hand over my face, knowing this was not going to be a good game. Honestly, we couldn’t afford another horrific loss like our first game.

“I’m sorry, I should have told him.”

“No, Shorty, we should have. But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, he was never going to approve of me, and we both know that. We’ll get through this game and then figure out our next step together.”

I watched as Hugh threw the ball inbound to Josh, who quickly ran down the court, easily doing a layup for Hugh to dunk it and I jumped with the crowd as we got the points. I can’t admit that this game was leaps and bounds better than the first one, but at least the team looked like a unit, one that was stronger.

There are still weak points that I loved to look into, that I would even more if the coach looked into. But he sure didn’t seem to be too inclined to my thoughts. So, I had to get the assistant coach and explain what I was seeing. When he glared at me before talking to Coach Jones, I had to chuckle to myself.

You shouldn’t be scared of the man who was leading this team, but everyone on staff seemed to be.

“I don’t want to hear his fucking thoughts. He needs to shut his mouth,” he said. I narrowed my eyes at the Coach, trying so hard not to reply back.

We needed to clean our act up before halftime, or when we came back to play, we were going to be even sloppier. All of this was easy fixes if ego could just be pushed aside.

I dropped my head as another bad play happened and I could see the team losing their confidence. Not just in themselves but in our Coach.

“Hugh,” he called, waving him over. “Get on the bench.”

I quickly jumped out of my seat and stormed over.

“Coach Jones, you can’t bench Hugh for that play.”

“I’m benching him because he screwed up the play I had! Now get out of my face.”

“No,” I told him, standing firm in my decision. I was done with this. The team was not going to pay for his mistakes. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but it’s not his fault. He’s helping this team a lot more than you are!”

“What the hell does that mean? It’s my job to coach you all, not babysit and not allow fuck ups!”

“That’s what you’re calling this? Because coaching means also seeing where you’re failing and allowing others to help, to make suggestions! You have a coaching team and what are they here for if you won’t listen to them?”

“Because it’s coming from you! You’re telling them what to do.”

“I am not! Some of them are seeing that your ego is getting in the way of your job. Coach Jones, you’re a great coach, but it doesn’t hurt to listen.”

“What the hell would you know about that? It’s not like you listened to me when I said stay away. And because of that, you want to blame the loss of the games or the shitty run we have on me. When it’s your own damn fault.

“My daughter isn’t one of your little hoes to run along and do whatever you want with! She’s better than that!”

“I know that!” I was done caring who was around to listen to this. I was over if people saw. Coach Jones needed an ass chewing for his actions.

“You do? Because I see you running around with all the little hoop hoes, and I will not let you make my daughter one.”

I saw red at that statement. I never saw Marketa that way, and hell, I wasn’t that way.

“You know shit about your team if that’s what you think I do.”

“I know plenty. Now get out of my face and stay the hell away from my daughter for the last time. She can find way better than the likes of you.”

I know that looking back, I will probably tell you I never felt my hand move into a fist and will also say I never even knew I lifted my arm. All to say that I wasn’t aware I punched the coach until my hand stung and I saw him clenching his nose.

“Get the hell out of my arena,” he shouted. “You’re done for the season, and I’ll make sure to fine your ass!”

“I love your daughter, sir. And I’m sorry that you will have to learn to deal with that, because I’m not going anywhere.”

“What do you mean?”

I felt a hand on my arm, and I glanced down, seeing Marketa there. It’s also the moment I looked up and saw the audience we had drawn; something I didn’t mean to do.

“I’m pregnant, Dad, and it’s Shawn’s baby.”