by Susan Stoker
Seeing their hesitation and realizing he needed a wingman, Harley quickly joined him.
“Hey, baby. Oh, you asked them. Good. You guys will sit with us, right? There’s lots of room. My boyfriend saw your Army T-shirt and decided right then and there you have great taste.” She laughed and gestured toward the long table, trying to put them at ease. Hollywood, Blade, and Truck were sitting on the far side of the table. Ghost, Rayne, and Mary had their backs to the food line. There were still two tables next to theirs that were empty. Plenty of room for five more people.
“Uh, sure, okay,” one of the girls stammered out for the group.
Harley smiled at them, trying to look as friendly as possible. Being social wasn’t really her thing, but it was obvious what Coach was trying to do. She was one hundred percent down with it. Damn mean girls.
They all sauntered over to the table and Coach held out a chair for one of the teenagers, and Truck stood up and did the same for the other two on his side of the table. They all sat down, and Coach took Harley’s hand and led her to the end of the table, making sure there weren’t any other seats around the teenagers, protecting them from the other girls.
As Harley could’ve guessed would’ve happened, the popular girls sat at a table nearby, close enough to hear what was being said at their own table.
Bless Rayne and Mary, even without being told what was going on, they jumped right in and made the teenagers feel at ease. They started out making small talk about the fact that the guys were all in the Army and wasn’t it a coincidence that one of them was wearing an Army T-shirt, and the conversation flowed easily from there.
It was an interesting lunch, with Ghost and Coach giving each other nonverbal signals with their eyes, Rayne and Mary carrying the conversation with the high schoolers, and Blade and Hollywood smiling and flirting in a nonthreatening way. Harley had blushed when Coach had bragged about how she was a hotshot video game developer and the girls had gushed over her, asking all sorts of questions about how she’d gotten into the business and what games she’d worked on.
After thirty minutes or so, the girls said they had to get back to class. Everyone was about done and started gathering their stuff. Garbage was thrown away and everyone exited the small restaurant. Harley watched as the three girls waved and walked away, back toward the high school.
She was startled when she heard Coach say, “Just a second, ladies.”
Turning to see who he was talking to, she saw the quartet of girls who’d been in line behind them standing near Coach. Her stomach churning, because she had no idea what Coach was doing, Harley quickly went to his side, noticing that the other guys did the same.
“I know you girls think you’ve got the world eating out of your hands, but that’s not the case.” Coach’s words were quiet…and lethal. Goosebumps rose on Harley’s arms. She’d seen Coach upset, but not like this. He was pissed. Extremely pissed, and he wasn’t hiding it in the least. It was as if he was holding himself back from tearing these girls new assholes, and it scared her. This wasn’t like the tender lover she’d had the night before, not even close.
He went on, without looking away from them. “You’re bullies. You think nothing can touch you and that you’ll skate by in this world with your looks. But you know what? You’re rotten inside. To the core. I’d like to say there’s still time for you to change, but I’m not sure there is. Those girls that you were threatening and making fun of are worth ten of you. Did you know that Brittany has a full ride to A&M next year? She got accepted into their pre-vet program. Who do you think is gonna take care of your yappy Chihuahua when it gets sick years from now? And Lexie is going into the Army. She’s smart enough to go to college, but wants to spare her family the expense. She’s going to be a doctor and thought that the Army would be a good place to start on that education. And she’s right. I wouldn’t be surprised if she ends up being a general someday. And Donna? She’s going to Yale. Yale.”
Harley put her hand on Coach’s back. He didn’t act like he even felt her standing there behind him. His back was ramrod straight and she could almost feel the energy coursing through his body. Every muscle was tight and his fists were clenched at his sides.
Coach’s words were bit out in a cutting tone. It wasn’t as if the girls didn’t deserve his ire, to some extent, but they were kids. They were engrossed in their own little worlds, with no clue as to how their actions today might affect others years from now.
Coach went on with no mercy. “I’d say they are well on their way to being productive, important members of society. And yet you stand there and judge them because they’re not wearing high heels or skanky skirts. Get over yourselves.”
The last words were said with such scorn, all four of the teenagers in front of them flinched.
But Coach wasn’t done. He continued his harangue. “Live your pathetically narrow lives, only worrying about who you’re going to prom with and which football player you’re going to fuck next, but leave them alone. Leave all of the, quote, unpopular, kids alone. You know what? Someday you’re gonna need those ‘nerds.’ Your kids might be sick and need a specialized doctor. Your computer might get a virus, or you might just find that the boys you used to pick on are four times better in the sack than the jocks because they care about the women they’re with.”
“Coach,” Ghost warned in a low voice. “Enough.”
Coach gestured to his teammate with a hand movement Harley didn’t understand, but Ghost took a step back, obviously reading the nonverbal signal and trusting his friend.
“You see this woman next to me?” Harley jolted when Coach snaked his hand around her waist and pulled her into him.
“She’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I love her and would lay down my life for hers, no questions asked. Look at her. She’s a nerd. Glasses, jeans, sneakers, no makeup, her hair up in a messy bun. But she’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever met in my life because of who she is inside. If I was a teenager again, I’d pick one of those girls you were just making fun of back there over any of you, any day of the week, and twice on Sunday.”
The teenagers hadn’t said anything, had only gaped at the gorgeous man ripping them to shreds with his harsh words.
Without another word to the teenagers who were standing stock still, eyes wide, watching them, Coach gave a chin lift to his friends and headed for his Highlander, his arm around Harley’s shoulders in a tight grip.
Harley didn’t even look back to see what the fallout would be for Coach’s harangue. As turned on as she was, she was more worried for him. His jaw was tight and he was breathing heavily through his nose. She didn’t say a word as he held open the passenger door for her. Without making her usual fuss, she climbed in and kept her eyes on him as he stalked around the front of the vehicle to the driver’s side.
She still didn’t say a word as he drove her home to her apartment, and neither did he. They’d spent a carnal night with each other, learning everything there was to know about each other, inside and out, and now it was as if a brick wall was standing between them. Harley had no idea how to get to the other side to get to Coach.
He pulled up outside her apartment and turned to her. “I’ll call you later.”
“Why don’t you come in? I—”
“I wouldn’t be good company right now, Harley. I’ll call you later.”
Harley sucked her lips together. She didn’t want to leave him like this. He wasn’t acting like himself and it was scaring her. The man she knew would never have said what he had to those teenagers. She was missing something. A big something.
“Coach—”
He leaned across in front of her and, with his long arm, pushed open her door. “Later, Harley.”
That was certainly definitive enough. Without a choice, Harley unbuckled her seat belt and swung her legs out of the door. She reluctantly climbed out and stood next to the door frame, clutching it with one hand. She tried one more time to reach him. “I love you, Coach.
Please come inside. We can talk about what just happened.”
His fingers grasped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. But he didn’t say a word. Didn’t acknowledge her in any way.
Wanting to beg him to talk to her, to tell her what was wrong, to make him come inside until he calmed down, Harley stared at him for one more second. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again.
Coach was an adult. He didn’t have to talk to her, although it hurt her heart that he was obviously struggling with some deep emotion that he didn’t want to share.
Without another word, Harley closed the door and took a step backward. For the first time ever, Coach didn’t wait for her to go up to her door; he pulled away, leaving her standing on the pavement outside her townhouse. She stood still, watching as the SUV pulled out of the parking lot and turned right onto the road outside her complex. The lights disappearing from sight.
A tear rolled down Harley’s face. Coach was hurting, and therefore she was too.
19
Harley fretted and worried about Coach. After she’d sent at least five texts, wanting to make sure he was all right, he’d texted back once, saying only, I’m fine.
The two words had freaked her out even more, because he obviously wasn’t fine. She’d resorted to calling Hollywood. He and Coach seemed close, and he seemed like a good choice to try to find out what in the world was going on.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t told her much. Only that Coach was working through some shit, and he’d be in touch soon.
Harley had even called Montesa. Her sister had told her simply that he needed to blow off steam and he’d be back when he was ready. Not satisfied with that response, and really wanting to get a guy’s perspective of the entire incident, she’d called her brother.
“It was as if he was a different person, Davidson. I don’t understand why he’s not talking to me.”
“Sis, I love you, but I don’t think you’re looking at this the right way.”
“How should I be looking at it?”
“Look, Coach is a guy. He’s in the military. He’s a soldier. He’s used to taking care of others. You told me that he recently got back from some mission where one of his friends got hurt and others killed. He’s obviously dealing with a lot. On top of that, something with those girls flipped a switch inside of him. I don’t know what happened in his life to make him abhor bullies, but whatever it is, he has to work through it by himself. He’s not gonna want to look weak in front of you.”
“But I know he’s not weak.”
“Harley, this isn’t about you. It’s about him.”
It was that sentence that made Harley understand, finally. Coach was a strong man. He hadn’t earned his nickname by being someone who stood on the sidelines and watched the world passing him by. He was a take-charge man. Someone who Harley knew firsthand, from the first day they’d met, wouldn’t stand back when a person was being treated unfairly. From the way he always left a twenty-percent tip to his defense of his country and always supporting his friends. It was just his way.
He wasn’t purposely shutting her out. He was dealing with something heavy, and it had absolutely nothing to do with her. She’d be worse than a teenager if she flew off the handle and got pissed at Coach. Too many relationships went bad because one person internalized what the other was doing and assumed they were purposely being excluded.
Whatever had happened today, was more. It was more than she knew. Coach wouldn’t have gone off on those girls…girls…if it had been only a simple case of bullying. He was too honorable. Too protective. No, it was something bigger. Something she didn’t understand.
Harley just had to wait for him to come to her. Whatever Coach needed, whenever he needed it, she’d be there for him.
When she lay down to try to get some sleep, hours later, she still hadn’t heard from Coach, or from any of his teammates. She’d made the decision earlier that night to wait for him to come to her, but it was one of the toughest things she’d ever done.
After tossing and turning, a noise woke her out of a light sleep. Harley looked at the clock. Two forty-two in the morning. Her phone pinged again. A text.
You up? I’m outside.
Harley didn’t bother with a return text, simply leaped out of bed and shoved her feet into a pair of flip flops lying on the floor. She ran through her place to the front door and swung it open, looking out into the parking lot eagerly.
Coach was leaning against the front bumper of his car. He was wearing the same cargo pants and shirt from earlier that day. He was looking down at his phone, brows drawn down into a frown, as if waiting for her return text. He looked tired. Exhausted.
Harley didn’t wait for him to notice or come to her, she hurried across the lot. Coach saw her out of the corner of his eye before she was halfway there. He pocketed his phone and strode toward her.
Without a word, in the dark of the parking lot, Coach engulfed her in his arms and held on tight. Harley didn’t need the words; the desperation of his grip told her everything she needed to know. He was hurting and her man needed her. Davidson had been right. This wasn’t about her. It was all about Coach.
She squeezed him tight, allowing the relief of him being safe to course through her. The worst memory of her life was when the cops had come to her childhood home to tell her and her siblings that their parents had been killed. A part of her had dreaded waking up to a knock on the door and being told that Coach had been in an accident and was hurt, or God forbid, had been killed.
She finally pulled back, just enough to turn and put her arm around Coach’s back and lead him toward her open door. They shuffled inside and Harley kicked off her shoes. She shut and locked the door and walked with Coach straight to her bedroom. He didn’t resist in any way, telling her without words that he was still mired in whatever was going through his mind. He sat on the edge of her bed and without asking permission, Harley kneeled down and started working on the laces to his boots.
“I can do that,” Coach protested weakly.
“I know. I got it,” Harley told him, tugging the first boot off. She removed his sock, then attacked the other one. Removing both the boot and sock on that foot, she placed them to the side. She pulled him to his feet and tried to push him toward the bathroom.
“Go. Do your thing. There’s a new toothbrush in the drawer to the right of the sink. I’ll be right here.”
Coach didn’t move, just stood by her bed, and then took her head in his large hands and stared down at her for the longest moment. Finally, without a word, he kissed her on the forehead and trudged off into the small bathroom.
Harley climbed back under the sheets, which still held her body heat from earlier, and waited for Coach to reappear. Within moments, he did.
On his way back to the bed, he tugged off his shirt and dropped it in the middle of the floor, obviously not caring where it landed. His hands went to his belt and he made short work of removing his pants as well.
He left his boxers on, unusual for him, and crawled into the bed next to Harley. She was winging it, and wasn’t sure what her next step should be, but as usual, Coach made the first move. He turned to Harley, who was lying on her back, and snuggled up to her.
It should’ve been weird, she was usually the one who curled into him, but this felt right. Coach’s arm went around her waist and he buried his nose into the space between her neck and shoulder. He shifted, pulling her even tighter into him. One of his arms was still tucked up against his body and she could feel his fingers brush against her shoulder as he tried to merge his body into hers.
Harley moved her arm out from under him and curled it around his shoulder, holding onto his head. She covered his massive forearm with the other and lay still.
She wouldn’t beg him to talk. She realized after her chat with Davidson, and some inner reflection as she sat at home and worried about where Coach was, that he’d tell her what was going on in his own time. He was an adult, with
his own thoughts and feelings. It wasn’t her place to force his feelings out of him, she needed him to be comfortable with her, and trust her enough to talk about what was bothering him when he was ready. It was enough for the moment that he was here with her, safe and sound. Harley knew she’d lay there in silence with him forever if that’s what he needed.
Coach didn’t move his head, but Harley felt his lips moving against her skin as he finally spoke a long twenty minutes later. He didn’t preface his words with anything, just jumped right into a story as if she’d asked him what the weather was going to be tomorrow.
“My sister’s name was Jenny. She was the sweetest kid you’d ever meet. Chubby-cheeked and bubbly. She never met a person she didn’t like.”
Harley held her breath. She already didn’t like what she was hearing. Didn’t like that Coach was referring to his sister in the past tense. It was the first time he’d done that. For some reason she’d thought his sister was alive and well somewhere, even though he didn’t really talk about her much. Harley kept quiet, not asking any questions, and let Coach get the story out in his own way, in his own time.
“She followed me around incessantly when she was in elementary school. My friends thought it was annoying, but I mostly thought it was cute. I knew she idolized me, and I was okay with that. She was my little sister. I’d do anything to protect her.”
Coach took a breath and paused, as if giving himself a pep talk to continue. Finally, he went on, his voice even softer than it had been before. He was almost whispering now. “One of my favorite memories was when I was in the seventh grade and she was in the fourth. I had an old tape recorder and we’d tape messages for each other and leave them outside our bedroom doors to listen to in the morning when we got up. We didn’t talk about anything interesting, just what we’d been doing and telling silly stories. Crap little kids would find amusing and interesting. I don’t know what happened to those tapes, but I’d give anything to have even one today. Absolutely anything.”