in the chair next to him. The silent request got answered without hesitation, and Ryder pulled out a metal chair from the table, moving it back so he could look at the old man evenly. Noble narrowed his eyes, watching Ryder but took a while to finish what he wanted to say. “So, what’s stopped you since you quit being that hurt kid?”
Ryder had no excuse. He had no reasons that wouldn’t make him sound pathetic and stupid. Hatred had cradled him. It kept him from the loss he felt. Coach knew it. He could probably read Ryder better than anyone, but he wouldn’t mention it. Not just yet.
Then, Noble delivered the accusation that Ryder could find no words to deny. “You fought against her being on this team.” Ryder nodded, leaning on his knees, not able to meet the coach’s eyes. Still, the man continued. “You were pretty damn loud about it, and then she gets here and you’re still loud about her on your field.”
He glanced up, shooting his eyebrows up because denying the truth felt like his first instinct. “There were other things…”
“I don’t much care about what those other things were. If you were still on my team and some walk-on kid comes around, looking at you to lead her, and you tell her to fuck off in front of media and fans and more importantly teammates? I’d knocked you on your ass on sheer principle.” Ryder winced, hating the slow glare that twisted the old man’s features. “That’s not how I trained you to be, son. Not remotely.”
He could deny it. Maybe Ryder could spend the next few minutes trying to convince the coach that things got twisted, that Reese had gotten on him and wouldn’t back off, that he had no choice but to put her in her place. But Noble wouldn’t stand for that, and as much as Ryder didn’t want to admit it, the man was right.
Ryder took his medicine because he needed it. Each accusation the coach leveled at him, he owned completely. “No, sir,” he said, looking back down. “That’s not how you trained me to be.”
“Glad you see that. Hope you can remember that the next time you think you can’t keep that promise to me.”
There was a hope in that statement that Ryder didn’t think belonged there. The coach hadn’t ever been a fan of Ryder and Reese together. He’d put up a fight until he realized he’d lost the battle of wills before it had started. After that, Coach just looked the other way anytime Reese and Ryder were around each other. He’d have never thought the old man would expect them to get anywhere near to how they’d been before.
So why the hell did the unspoken acceptance make Ryder a little happy? When he looked back up at Coach, saw the blank stare, the warm eyes, he realized he couldn’t string him along. There was no hope to give him.
“Coach, it’s not…Reese and me, we aren’t…”
He shut his eyes, head shaking to keep Ryder silent. “What you are with my daughter got nothing to do with me. But you know what does?” He didn’t bother to let Ryder answer. The coach stood, folding his arms again as he walked to the window at the back of the room. There was a clear view of the stadium beyond that glass.
“When you get out on that field, around those fans and media and act like some common rookie with his dick hard from the high he gets off the power handed to him, that reflects poorly on the coaches and owners who sign your check.” He turned, and the calm expression had gone. Now there was a tight frown and a glare that made Ryder stand, like a soldier getting a reprimand from his commanding officer. “More importantly, it reflects poorly on me and how I trained you. That shit stops now.”
The old man’s tone was loud, sharp, and though Ryder respected him, he couldn’t let him think there was only one reason for yelling at Reese. “If this is about Reese.”
“This is about your new placekicker, who you happened to love once.” Ryder tightened his lips, pressing them together as Coach stood in front of him again. He loomed tall and large, and even though they were about the same height and build, Ryder felt like a kid standing in front of him. He probably always would.
“You just don’t know, son. After you left…my girl, she was