Chapter 30

30

Coach (Emmett)

How could one conversation sum up twenty years of life?

How could something that ripped me apart, created chronic turmoil inside me, and basically shaped my existence be explained so briefly?

It pissed me off.

I’d built up Lance’s death as this major hurdle. This defining moment. And yes, it was. But speaking it out loud felt almost anticlimactic.

Maybe it wouldn’t feel so anticlimactic if I’d told him the entire truth. If I hadn’t left out the most important part.

You’re a chicken shit, Emmett.

I pushed away those nagging thoughts. Pretended they didn’t even plague me.

Maybe that’s how life is. Unbalanced. Experiences that are briefly explained but felt profoundly.

I’m getting real sick of that word, bro. Feel.

Feelings are gross. They muck everything up. Which was exactly why I’d stayed away from everything except swimming and my daughter all these years.

I couldn’t do that anymore. I didn’t want to.

Problem was I wasn’t sure how to move forward. Bodhi had been right, the little shit. I’d been frozen in time. I felt like Encino Man.

Oh, I’m showing my age again? I’m forty, not freaking eighty. But allow me to explain. Encino Man is a movie, circa 1992, about a caveman who is discovered and thawed out by two boneheaded teenagers and has to learn to live in the modern world.

Too bad for me that I couldn’t just pretend to be some clueless foreign exchange student. No. I was an adult. With responsibilities and expectations. And a job. A job I loved.

Where did I go from there?

“Dad! We’re going to be late!” Landry’s voice echoed up the stairs.

I let out a groan. You know where I was going? An auction. Where I was being sold to the highest bidder.

Did I mention I loved my job? Because there was no way on God’s green earth that I would put on this damn monkey suit and stand on a stage for people to gawk at for any other reason.

Liar.

Fine. I didn’t even love my job that much. I’d rather put out a campfire with my face than go to this dog and pony show tonight. I was a swim coach, not an escort.

“Daaaad!”

“I’m coming!” I hollered, turning away from the mirror, already fighting the urge to yank off this god-awful bowtie and feed it to the garbage disposal.

But I wouldn’t. I’d agreed to this. A pathetic attempt to make the dean happy. To keep him off my back and away from Bodhi while I figured shit out.

Elite’s first meet of the season was in two days. Two. If only it were as easy to get Bodhi in the pool and competition-ready as it was to get him in my bed.

Like clockwork, he’d showed up at my door every night this week. It was always late, always in secret, and always impossible to say no.

You’re wondering how the hell I kept up with the libido of a twenty-one-year-old, aren’t you?

Listen, this agism shit is getting old.

Sure, I was no spring chicken, but I was still in my prime. And this boy with the diamond in his navel, lingerie hiding under his jeans, bratty mouth, and blond hair did it for me. Like no one else ever had. The second he was within touching distance, my body hummed with some sort of frenetic energy and this feral urge to claim.

All week, the satisfaction of owning him overruled the sleep I’d forgone. Who needed sleep when he was walking around with a belly full of me?

I was halfway down the stairs when Landry gasped. “Somebody better call the cops because it’s a crime to look that good.”

I stopped midstep to scowl. “It’s time you stop hanging out with those boys, Landry.”

She laughed, red-painted lips pulling up into an ornery grin. “I’m serious, Dad. You look amazing!”

“It’s just a suit,” I mumbled.

“A tuxedo is not a suit, and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen you in one.”

“Take a picture because it’s the last.” She laughed, and I took her hand and lifted her arm. “But you, ladybug, you are stunning.”

She smiled, running her hand over the fitted waist of her red dress. “You think so?”

I nodded, glancing again at the red satin, how it fit close to her waist and torso, then drifted out around her hips, the fabric floating around her when she turned this way and that. Her blond bob was sleek, and a pair of sparkly hoops dangled from her ears.

“I know so.” I confirmed.

Rush appeared from the kitchen. He was also dressed in a penguin suit, shoving the last bite of whatever he was eating into his mouth.

I was gonna start charging him for groceries.

“Damn, Coach. Gonna have them ladies fighting over you tonight.”

“Doesn’t he look so handsome?” Landry said, stepping up to adjust the black bowtie strangling me.

“The whistle really brings out the control freak in you,” Rush lamented.

Jackass .

Landry made a sound and reached for the permanent staple around my neck. “Really, Dad? You can’t leave this home just for tonight?”

“No.”

“You’re edging into the My Strange Addiction territory, Emmett,” Rush mused.

I was not addicted to the whistle. I just… liked it.

“At least put it in your pocket,” Landry suggested, tugging the cord.

Sighing, I leaned down so she could pull it over my head. Grabbing the lapels, I held open my jacket, and she tucked it inside.

She patted the black vest over my white button-up. “That’s much better.”

I rolled my eyes. “Let’s go. We’ll be late.”

“How was second swim today?” I asked Rush on the way out the door.

“Wet.”

“Did everyone show up?” I pressed, not in the mood for his baiting.

“The usual plus a couple more.”

“Bodhi?” I questioned, finally asking what I really wanted to know.

“He worked out in the gym.”

“What about the pool?” I asked, frustration clipping my voice.

Rush stopped and turned. “He did one lap.”

So much for hoping our little late-night swim healed his trauma. But I guess one lap was better than his previous none.

Progress is good, but progress won’t keep him on the team.

My tongue slid over my teeth, and I pushed my hands into the pockets of these too-tight trousers. What the hell did people wear such tight pants for?

“He’s not ready,” Rush said, voice subdued.

“Swimming isn’t optional with Elite.”

“Yeah.” Rush nodded. “I know.”

We shared a brief look. A mutual feeling of trepidation.

“No swim talk tonight. Tonight is for fun. We’ll worry about training tomorrow,” Landry said, breaking into our brooding.

“Young lady, the only thing fun about tonight will be when it’s over.”

“Dad!”

“It’s true, baby.” Rush agreed.

“Jason!”

“At least you don’t have to parade around on stage like some appliance on QVC.”

“What’s QVC?” Rush asked.

For the love of God. “The home shopping network,” I snapped.

Landry’s nose wrinkled. “Like… on TV?”

“Bro, that’s what Amazon is for,” Rush added.

“Get in the car,” I deadpanned.

Rush pulled the keys to his Corvette from his pocket. “I’m not riding in that,” he said, glancing at my Mustang like it was some hoopty with missing hubcaps.

Note: I don’t care if your car is missing its hubcaps. It’s a joke, not a dick. Don’t take it so hard.

“Whatever,” I said. “I’ll meet you there.”

I let myself into my Mustang GT and fired up the engine. The purr was so sweet I didn’t even hear Landry climbing into the passenger seat, my attention caught by the flash of her red dress.

“Why aren’t you with Rush?” I asked.

“I want to ride with you.”

My eyes narrowed. “What’d he do?”

“Nothing.”

I glanced through the windshield as Rush backed his blue Vette out of the driveway. He saw me looking and waved.

“Seriously, Dad, everything is fine. I just wanted to ride over with you.”

“You’re sure?” I pressed.

She nodded.

“Put your seatbelt on.” I reminded her.

I was turning off our street when I felt her eyes.

“What is it, ladybug?” I asked gently, knowing there was something on her mind.

“Is everything okay?” she asked hesitantly.

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye before turning back to the road. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You just seem… different.”

The back of my neck grew hot. “Different how?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured, then, “Quieter.”

I laughed. “Am I usually loud?”

“You yell a lot, Dad,” she deadpanned.

The wheel jerked in my hand, and I glanced at her, incredulous. “What?”

“Not at me.” She hurried to amend, then groaned. “You’ve been a hard-ass at practices all semester.”

“That’s my job.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her shake her head. “Maybe. But it felt different. And this week feels different too.”

Well, damn. It was genetic. Feeling shit without being able to explain it. Poor kid.

“I’ve been worried.” She burst out.

The turmoil in her voice had me pulling over and hitting the brake. After throwing the car into park, I turned to face my daughter. “Tell me what you’ve been worrying about, baby girl.”

“We’re going to be late.”

“I don’t even want to go.”

She smiled. “You’re terrible.”

“Never claimed to be otherwise.”

“But you are,” she said quietly, a slight hitch in her chest. “You’re a good man, Dad, but you pretend you aren’t. Why?”

A lump formed in my throat and a knot in my chest. “My job is to create elite athletes, not coddle them.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean, then?”

She looked at me as if she knew I knew what she meant and was disappointed I pretended otherwise. I had a lot of experience in feeling like shit, but let me be clear: Disappointing your kid was a whole other level of feeling like shit. Like shit on steroids.

“Ladybug—”

“You aren’t happy.”

That lump in my throat turned into a knife, the blade stabbing me with pain. I tried to deny it, but the only thing I managed was a grunting sort of sound.

Pathetic, Emmett. Pathetic.

“Have you ever been?” she questioned, unsure.

This time, I forced the words past my screaming throat. “I’ve never been unhappy.”

Her green eyes dimmed, sadness welling up in them like my answer broke her heart. I didn’t want to break my baby girl’s heart.

“Is it because of me?”

The reaction to that was so visceral that I jolted hard enough to rock the car. “What? No! Why would you think that?”

She shrugged. “Maybe you regret becoming a dad so young. Like Mom?—”

“Your mother is a selfish bitch,” I snapped. The instant the words were out, I sucked in a surprised breath. Fuck, did I really just say that out loud? “Landry, honey, I didn’t mean that. Your mom?—”

“It’s the truth,” she said, not even scandalized by the way I’d insulted her mother.

Fucking great, Emmett. Father of the year.

“She’s always been angry that she had to give up her youth to raise a kid.”

I growled under my breath just hearing her repeat the shit I knew her mother had told her. Who tells a kid that? A selfish bitch, that’s who. A selfish bitch who marries for money, and when her sleazebag of a husband hits on her daughter, she takes his side.

But even if I did have a low opinion of my baby mama, I refrained from sharing it with my daughter. I might have grown up in the eighties and nineties, but I saved the your mom jokes for someone who wasn’t my DNA. They wouldn’t be jokes anyway. They’d be facts. Facts aren’t nearly as funny as jokes.

“She didn’t give up her youth,” I muttered, dragging a hand down my face. Sighing, I grabbed her hand. “I do not regret becoming a dad.” Looking directly into her gemlike eyes, I let her see my sincerity. “Being your dad is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Really?”

I held up my fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

Her nose wrinkled. “You weren’t in the Scouts.”

“Still have honor,” I muttered.

She giggled, and the sound lightened my heart.

“I love you, and I’m sorry I’ve made you worry lately. You don’t need to worry about me, okay? My happiness is not your responsibility.”

“But—”

I waved a hand in the air. “No buts.”

Her chin jutted out. “I’m not a little girl anymore.”

“I know that.”

“So stop treating me like one.”

I sighed. “How about you and I go to dinner after the meet? There are a few things I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Like what?” she asked, curious.

“I’ll tell you at dinner.”

“You could tell me now.”

“We have a benefit to get to.”

“You said you didn’t want to go,” she teased.

“I do a lot of things I don’t want to do.” Fuck. I sound like my father.

“Can I have a hint?”

Is there a hint for I’m gay, sleeping with someone your age, and the dean is probably going to fire me?

“Well, I was hoping you’d go furniture shopping with me. Make the house look a little more… homey.”

Excitement sparked in her eyes, and she bounced a little in the seat. “Really?”

“Mm.” I agreed. “I’m tired of drinking burnt coffee, and our cardboard box coffee table is starting to fall apart.”

She let out a little squeal and clapped. Girls did love shopping. “I have so many ideas,” she said, launching into something about area rugs and pillows for the couch.

I let her talk, turning back to the wheel just as a blue Corvette pulled up in front of us. Rush got out and stalked over, knuckles rapping on the window beside Landry’s head. She rolled it down, and his face appeared.

“If you bought a Chevy, you wouldn’t be stranded on the side of the road.”

“I would describe your personality as a vibrant shade of beige,” I told him.

“We aren’t stranded. Dad pulled over,” Landry explained.

Rush turned his full attention to her, going as far as to reach out and cup her face. “Why? You okay?”

It was this kid’s only saving grace: his love for my daughter.

“We were talking.”

Concern darkened his features. “About what?”

I didn’t want to get into it with him. “What are you doing here? You were driving ahead of us.”

“You think I didn’t keep my eye on the rearview with my girl in your car? You dropped out of sight and stayed that way. Of course I came looking.”

“Jay,” Landry said softly.

I reached into the center console for some Tums. Bad enough I had to go auction myself off in a tuxedo, but I did not need to see my daughter making googly eyes at her boyfriend.

“Go with Rush, Landry,” I told her, popping two of the tabs into my mouth.

“We were talking,” she protested.

“We can talk more at dinner.”

“Dinner?” Rush asked.

“You aren’t invited,” I told him.

“Dad!” Landry gasped.

Rush laughed.

“Go on,” I told her, gesturing. I knew she wanted to, and I needed a breather before I had to plaster on a smile at the event.

Rush opened her door, and she looked at me.

“Remember what I said, ladybug. Best thing that’s happened to me.”

She smiled. “Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too.”

Rush put his arm around her waist and escorted her to the car, keeping his body between her and the road at all times. Sometimes he made it really hard to hate him.

I waited until he drove off and then pulled onto the road. It was going to be a long fucking night.