29. Nathan

With each game we played, the crowds grew more and more. It turned out the Honey Creek Hornets were finding a spark of light in the media realm. The boys were eating it up, too. I’d played the game long enough to know that a team always played better when they had a strong crowd behind them. Something about the energy of being cheered on from the bleachers pushed players harder.

Something was so rewarding about it, too. Not only for the players but also for Avery. She’d finally been given the chance to lead the team and had more than proved herself in that position. It wasn’t every day you ran across a female coach in the league, so it was refreshing to see her do better than most of the men in our conference.

Still, it wasn’t uncommon for someone to slip in rude comments along the way. After we beat the Parkway Giants, we shook hands with the coaches. Their head coach, Frank, shook my hand and gave Avery a dirty look. Then said, “I think it’s nice that you’re pretending to be the assistant coach, Pierce. Everyone knows this team was shit without you. Way to carry this team on your back. It’s good to see this sport run by a man.”

The dig was said loudly enough for Avery to hear it. I flinched, knowing that wouldn’t sit well with Avery.

“I beg your pardon?” Avery snipped with a puffed-out chest. If there was one thing she wouldn’t allow, it was disrespect of any kind.

Frank smirked and held his hands up in the air. “Don’t get your tampon in a twist, Kingsley. You make a stellar assistant coach. But don’t get confused. This ain’t your sport, sweet pea.”

“I’ll show you a fucking sweet pea,” Avery yipped, marching toward Frank with invisible smoke blasting from her nostrils.

“Whoa, there, slugger,” I said, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her back behind me.

Avery’s brows shot up as she stood there, stunned. She tilted her head and pointed a stern finger my way. “Don’t fucking do that again, Pierce,” she scolded, her warranted anger spewing toward me.

I took a deep breath and stepped toward her. I said softly, “He’s a dick trying to get under your skin because we just smoked his team. Walk it off, Coach.”

“You walk it off!” she hissed, a fire brewing in those brown irises. “That’s some sexist bullshit.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “But walk it off. Otherwise, everyone around us will label you the angry, unstable coach.”

Avery glanced around to see all the eyes on her. She grimaced, seeing people staring at her, waiting for her to snap. It wasn’t fair. She’d always be judged harder than any other coach in the industry because there wasn’t a dick between her legs. Even though Avery was better than most, she’d always have a target on her back if anything went wrong in the slightest. People like Frank were waiting for her to lose her cool and snap so they could label her in such a way. It was bullshit, but it was the way of the world.

Women in the industry had to prove themselves fifty times more than men.

A male coach could have a meltdown for a whole season and be labeled as passionate, while a female coach could throw off their baseball hat after a bad play and be called overly emotional.

Was it right? No. Yet it was the world we lived in. And now, with more attention on our team, we had more attention on our Avery.

She glanced up at the bleachers, where her father was sitting. Matthew Kingsley showed up to every single home game, no matter what. I hadn’t officially met him, but he was clearly his daughter’s biggest fan.

Matthew smiled a sad grin toward her. Then he mouthed, “Breathe, baby.”

Avery grumbled and took a breathe before she stomped her feet off toward the building.

“Is it that time of the month for her?” Frank snickered with his assistant coaches who joined in the laughing.

“Fuck off, Frank,” I blurted out before walking off the field.

“Walk it off, Coach?!”Avery spat out as she stood on the baseball batting mound at my place, clearly still enraged with what went down. “Are you kidding me, Nathan?”

“That was me having your back.”

“Really? Because it felt like you were stabbing me in it.”

I slid my hands into my pockets and leaned back against the railing of my porch. “You’re pissed at me.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious. It’s nothing like having a man tell a woman that when she’s pissed off. I almost didn’t notice without you informing me what I was feeling.”

Her sarcasm was at a new level. I watched as she took a ball from the bag beside her, tossed it into the air, and knocked it out of the park. I swore her swings became Incredible Hulk strength whenever she was mad.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Screw you,” she replied before hitting another ball. She then turned toward me. “Frank Stagg is a dick.”

“The biggest dick, yeah.”

She pointed the bat toward me. “But he’s not the only one who thinks that way. Do you know I spent all the years before being told that stuff? I worked under a misogynistic head coach for years, Erikson, who would’ve laughed it off with Frank. I’d been told countless times not to get my panties in a frenzy whenever some crap happened. I was told countless times by Coach Erikson to”—she made quotations with her fingers—“take a walk whenever I was being disrespected. Do you know how belittling that is? I was the only woman on the field and the only Black coach being told to take a walk because I was too much.”

I began walking in her direction when I heard her voice crack. “And then I went ahead and said the same bull as those assholes.”

She nodded slowly. “And I had the stupid idea that we were…partners.”

“We are, Coach. I’m in your corner through and through. I will never understand what it is that you go through, but I need you to understand that anything I do is to better our team and protect you. Nothing good was going to come out of that interaction with Frank Stagg. He’s a fucking clown who was trying to get under your skin because we whooped his team’s asses. I just didn’t want him to spoil our win with his ignorant commentary.”

She frowned and grumbled a little before biting her bottom lip. She looked back up toward me, the rage in her eyes from before somewhat simmering down. “Can you say anything other than ‘walk it off’ next time?”

I moved closer, took the bat from her hand, and placed it down. “What would you like me to say?”

“I don’t know. Anything but that.”

I took her hands and brought her left palm to my mouth. I kissed it lightly. “How about ‘leave it on the field, Coach’?”

“Oh gosh, no.” She shook her head as she inched a little closer. “Try again.”

I kissed her other palm. “Lap it out, Coach.”

“Nothing about walking or leaving the field,” she argued. “Something that wouldn’t feel so belittling but makes it clear that the other coaches are baiting me. Something that others wouldn’t understand. Something that’s just ours.”

I brought both of her palms to my mouth and kissed them. “Butterflies.”

“Butterflies?” she questioned, moving even closer. So close that I could easily step in and kiss her again.

“Yeah.” I nodded, leaning in and brushing my mouth against her soft lips. “Butterflies.”

Her eyes fluttered shut. “Why butterflies?”

“Because I’d have to be close to you whenever I said the word, and whenever I’m close to you, I get fucking butterflies.”

She reopened her eyes and shoved me away with a loud chuckle. “Okay, cornball.”

I gasped and tossed my hands to my chest. “Here I am, speaking from my heart, and you call me a cornball?”

“I’m sorry. If you didn’t say corny things, I couldn’t call you a cornball.”

“You know what? Take a walk, Coach,” I joked.

She snickered and flipped me off before she reached toward me, grabbed my shirt, and pulled me closer to her. “Kiss me, corny Coach,” she whispered.

“Is that an order or a request?”

“An order.”

“God…” I shook my head slowly, moving closer to her mouth. “I love it when you boss me around.”

I kissed her, and she leaned into it, kissing me back. My hands fell to the sides of her face as she tilted her head toward me. I loved this part of us. The part where we kissed and made up. The part where I was able to taste her lips against mine. The part where I could daydream about more when our mouths touched.

Oh, how I wanted fucking more.

“I’m having a case of déjà vu,” someone said behind me, breaking up the connection between Avery and me.

She stepped back and gently brushed her hand against her mouth.

Don’t brush away my kisses, Avery Kingsley.

I turned around to see Evan standing there with his arms crossed over his broad chest. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said with an almost-smirk. “I didn’t know you two were…you two again.”

“We aren’t,” Avery and I said in sync.

I smiled at her, and she smiled at me, growing shy.

Evan narrowed his brows. “Then what was that?”

“Oh. That was just two friends who sometimes…kiss…” Avery said, her cheeks rising high. She looked down and shook her head bashfully.

“We were going over plays,” I said.

“With your saliva?” he questioned. “Is that a baseball technique?”

“What’s up? What do you need?” I asked, shifting the awkwardness.

Evan still looked confused, but he went with the shift. “Priya is baking and needed some almond milk. You got any?”

“We do!” Avery exclaimed. “I’ll go get it.” She darted off as if she were running from the police. I could tell how embarrassed she’d been as she hurried into my place.

Evan glanced toward my back door. “So you and Avery, huh?”

“It’s nothing serious. We’re just friends.”

“Friends who kiss?”

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “I guess it’s a thing.”

His brows lowered, and he shook his head. “I remember how heartbroken you were when you ended things with her, Nate. It will always be serious with that woman for you.”

I didn’t reply, knowing he was right.

“Just do me a favor, will you?” he asked.

“What’s that?”

“Pri and Avery have been hanging out together around the farm. Avery’s been a good role model for Priya. She doesn’t have many female role models outside of Mom. Avery’s a good addition around these parts. So don’t fuck this up.”

I smirked and nodded. “I’ll do my best, brother.”

“Do better than that.”

Avery came hurrying out with the carton of almond milk. “Here you go, Evan!”

Evan took the carton from Avery and thanked her. He gave me a nod and a slight smile, then wandered back toward his house.

“Oh gosh, how embarrassing. We have to be more careful about that,” Avery mentioned, moving closer.

“I’m not too worried about it. It’s probably for the best that he interrupted. I was starting to think you liked me.”

She leaned in and whispered, “If you’d like, I could call you a shithead to balance it out.”

I inched closer, my eyes falling to her full lips. “That would probably help.”

Her hand fell against my forearm, and her mouth slightly brushed against mine. “You’re such a shithead, Nathan Pierce.”

I smiled and kissed her gently. “Thanks, Avery Kingsley.”

“Anytime.” She pulled back and took her warmth with her.

What I wouldn’t give to kiss that woman forever. Yet sometimes the small, playful kisses between banter were my favorites. It made it seem as if what we were doing was simply becoming our new norm. Did I love kissing her all over during the wild makeout sessions? Of course. But kissing her in the quiet moments? During the fleeting seconds? Those kisses fed my soul.