Page 31 of Sexting the Coach (Pucking Daddies #6)
Weston
My father was never the kind of drunk who caused problems.
In fact, most people in my family would probably balk at the idea of me calling the man a drunk at all. He had a steady job, never yelled at his kids, never once ruined a birthday party by having one too many.
But he drank beer like other people drink water. He had one the moment he came home in the evenings, and would keep on drinking through supper, up until the moment he went to bed. Whiskey on the weekends. Alcohol was his crutch, and he was as high-functioning as they come.
It’s part of the reason I’ve done by best to avoid the stuff. Keep it light, when I do drink. I’ve been very careful to make sure I don’t end up like my old man.
But last night, I was not careful.
Last night, after we barely scraped by with a win against a team we should have had no problems against, I came back to the hotel, opened the mini bar, and started on the little bottles like I had a world record to break.
I didn’t go down to the hotel bar—that felt like a new low I wouldn’t even succumb to. The last thing I wanted was to put my agony on display for everyone to see. No, I drank myself to the point of black out in the privacy of my stuffy, clinical hotel room, like a man.
Elsie isn’t talking to me.
Fincher is feeling bold enough to call out my injury in front of everyone.
And on top of everything else, the team is slowly starting to unravel.
I can feel it happening with each passing game, another opportunity to tighten things up that slips away.
Like the players have gone overboard, and I’m desperately trying to pull everyone back onto the ship, but the ocean is tossing them around, pushing them out.
When I spend too much time on one person, five others drifts further away.
I should have known better than to think I could handle something like this. Being the head coach. The only reason I am is because Morton fucked up, and for some reason, the Squids chose me over Fincher. I bet they’re regretting that right about now.
All that to say that I drank too much last night, and when I wake up this morning to the notification that I’ve missed my flight, it’s with a pounding headache and a mouth that feels like a hotel towel.
I shoot Bernie a text to let him know I’ll make it back to San Francisco on a different flight, book the next one, and head to the shower to try and wash away some of the pain lacing straight from one temple to the other, cutting through my eyes and throbbing to the beat of my heart.
But when I come back from the bathroom, going through the motions of packing up my things like a robot programmed to live my life for me, I find another notification on the phone.
From the PR team. Tamra asking me to come in for a meeting the moment I land in San Francisco. Saying it’s urgent.
And this time, I get the feeling that it’s not going to be a twist ending, like the last time I went to her office. Last time, Elsie and I were expecting the worst, and instead got a PR team that seemed to be decently happy with us.
This time, we’re not so lucky.
I sit down on the bed, holding the phone loosely in my hands, eyes scanning and re-scanning the email. Someone has leaked a video of Elsie and I, sitting outside the rink. When we were taking our skates off, talking about our relationship.
The moment that blew everything up for me. When I told her I wanted things to be real between us, and she responded to that by running away and calling in sick for the next two weeks. Ignoring my texts and calls.
I only know she’s alive because when I caught her roommate outside the PT center the other day—wearing the same polo as Elsie but not looking even half as good—the roommate begrudgingly told me so.
“She’s alive,” Mabel had said, her eyes hard, expression steely. “I can’t tell you anything else, Wolfe.”
Now, I tap on the attachment and watch the video. It’s all there—us admitting that the relationship is fake. Me, moving closer to her. Elsie shying away.
This video does not cast me in a good light. There’s nothing illicit happening—not anything close to what Morton did to those interns—but I know after a situation like that, admin is not about to go easy on me, and this is enough.
Letting the phone fall from my hands, I collapse back onto the bed, throwing an arm over my face.
The last thing I want to do is meet with these fuckers right now.
But there is one upside to all this—if they want to meet with me, that means they’re also going to meet with Elsie.
When I get back to San Francisco, I’ll have one shot to catch her after the meeting. Tell her—what?
Standing, I move with more purpose, the headache fading away. I’ll use the plane ride to think through this. Figure out what to say.
Because when I see Elsie again, I’m going to convince her to stay with me. Things have been too good these past few weeks to just let this thing between us go.
For the first time since this whole thing started, I don’t give a fuck about the age gap. About the circumstances of the relationship. About what we decide to do in the future.
The only thing that matters is making sure I don’t lose her.
I just have to find the right words.
“Thank you for coming in, Mr. Wolfe.”
I’m sitting at a table that’s far too big, in a conference room that’s overlooking the city. Up on the board, the PR and HR people have conveniently have a still image from the video up on the screen.
It shows me sitting next to Elsie, no idea that the next thing out of my mouth was going to set her off, scare her away from me. Even looking at it makes me feel like I could choke on the air in this room.
Across from me is a tall blond woman with pin-straight hair, her smile fixed in place like it’s been stitched there. The atmosphere in this room is stiff, the other professionals looking uneasy with one another.
It reminds me of the period of time right after the interns starting coming out against Morton. The feeling that everything was uncertain, and that a lot of people in the organization were doing their best to bail things out while the rest of us waited for things to calm down.
There were meetings every day. We did our best to focus on practice, to assure the guys that everything was going to be fine.
But now I’m not on the outside of the situation, waiting for everyone else to figure things out.
I’m head coach now, more responsible for stuff like this. Involved in the meetings.
Especially considering the fact that this meeting is about me.
“Of course,” I sit back in my seat, glancing around the table again, waiting for the moment I see her. She’s not here yet.
“We might as well get started. As you know—”
“Elsie isn’t here yet,” I interrupt, shaking my head and glancing at the door. It’s probably best if I don’t mention her, but I can’t help it. “Shouldn’t we wait for her to arrive before we talk about the situation?”
Quinn’s eyebrows shoot up, and she glances at Tamra, who’s looking at me. The tension in the room grows to a point that I’m considering letting out a loud noise just to break it when Quinn clears her throat and turns to me.
“I’m sure you understand the gravity of this situation, Mr. Wolfe. It’s my job to protect this organization from legal action, to ensure the employees here are happy and healthy, and that’s what I’m doing right now.”
“It’s also important that we consider not just the implications now,” Tamra says, lifting a finger, still smiling stupidly wide, even considering the circumstances. “But also, the ongoing reputation of the team. Ideally, we would be avoiding any additional…poor looks. For the team.”
“What are you saying?” I growl, because the truth is that neither of them is really saying anything. But I can sense, beneath all the avoidance, what the truth is.
My chest gets tight before they say it.
“Well,” Quinn says, swallowing, then crossing her eyes and staring me down. “I’m sure you understand that we had to mitigate the damage here, Mr. Wolfe.”
“Mitigate the damage,” I repeat, deadpan.
“Yes,” Quinn confirms, looking away from me at the last second. The coward. “We are doing what’s best for the team, not just right now, but moving forward. And that means Ms. Montgomery has been terminated.”