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Sometimes, I forgot that I’d gotten into football because it was my passion. I soon realized that sometimes, you must take a step back to propel yourself forward.
My injury proved that to me, along with the fact that other important things in life need to be prioritized, and for me…that’s family.
I’d say I had quite a simplistic upbringing. Small town, supportive family, good education. I never went without. My mum made sure of that.
My dad was never in the picture much, and despite how you’d likely anticipate this story to go, I didn’t spend the majority of my childhood pining after him.
Did it suck at times? Yeah, sure. But when I look back and reflect on the past, I quite like that it was only Mum and me. She was the first person on my team before I even knew that I wanted to be on one. And with me being the only son…the only child, I took on a sense of responsibility and commitment that motivated me to take care of her, just like she had for me my whole life.
I’d say somewhere along the way, Ira filled the void of a lack of a male figure, but that wouldn’t be the sole case. This team…this job has given me an opportunity to learn not what it means to be a Dad, a role that, who knows if I’ll be lucky enough to get the opportunity to take on one day. But instead, it’s taught me what it means to show up, care, support,love…and that’s what any great man should do for the people in their life. Father or not.
I’m indebted to my family. That’s what kept me going through the lows of my life—and knowing that each of the lads has one of their own, it’s a valuable lesson I want to pass along.
The workaholic side of me propels me to take back my allowance of a couple of days off as a result of one of our away matches getting postponed until later this season.
Now would be a perfect opportunity to spend some additional time practicing and honing in on our gameplay. But then again, it’s been a few weeks since I’ve visited my Mum. She’s only an hour away, but finding time to break free from Crawley tends to be harder than it may appear. Especially when I’ve been managing a new member of the squad—one who would refuse to wear a uniform unless it was pink with rhinestones.
Since our heart-to-heart a few weeks ago, I’m inclined to say that Delaney and I have had a better start. I’ll be the first to admit that working with her hasn’t been as excruciatingly painful as I’d initially thought.
She’s taken this whole PR role in stride. Now, I hardly need to go knocking on her door to question what insane “viral” idea she’s come up with.
Part of me wishes, at times, I could. There’s nothing quite like getting into a mid-day skat with her…especially when I see how flustered she gets any time I question an idea, I know she’s got her heart set on.
I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t been a breath of fresh air seeing her every morning these past few weeks. She adds a sense of relief to the group—an aura of positivity and light. Her “Good morning, everyone. Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Even when it’s absolutely rubbish weather outside, it is just a reminder that I’ve never met someone who looks on the bright side of things quite like her.
Nor have I appreciated women’s fashion more than I do each day when I see what kind of outfit she opts to runway strut down the hallway in. She’s an absolute work of art. She wears her clothes, her clothes don’t wear her. And when I tell you, the sheer wear she put on me last week as she strode past my office in a sexy pair of high heels, I had to personally go to church on Sunday to rid my mind of all my thoughts.
“So…” I hear a gentle knock at my door, Delaney leaning against the doorway as she folds her arms across her chest. “What’s the plan for this week? Anything I can get done while everyone’s gone?”
I have to catch my breath, given that the air escaped my lungs at the sight of her standing in a sleek black dress with her hair in a slicked-back low bun. It was the last thing I thought I’d catch sight of going into this weekend.
“See you soon, Delaney.” Hart beats me to a response as he surveys her up and down, followed by a few other players joining in on the goodbyes as they make their way past my office door.
“No goodbye for me?” I have to tease, considering the only other sentence about to come out of my mouth was, “Stop looking at her like that.”
There’s no denying that everyone on the team has feelings for her. It’s been apparent since day one. But what’s even more apparent is her ability to tune it all out—at first, she entertained the suggestive remarks, but now, her focus is redirected. She comes to me. She talks to me. She gives me all her attention.
Fuck, I love it.
“Yeah, yeah. See you in a few days, Coach,” they half-ass a goodbye past my door before they’re out of sight.
Delaney’s playful laugh makes my lips curl into a smile, but as her attention falls onto me, I drop my face, carefully watching as she shifts her weight from one leg to the other. I won’t pretend to question how she’s walking in those shoes, but at the same time, I’m so happy she is.
I clear my throat, pushing back from my desk as I reach for my briefcase that lingers in the corner of the room. Sure, I may be “out of office” this week, but that doesn’t mean I can’t complete a few tasks to keep me on track, does it?
“Why are you still here?” I hardly peer up at her, knowing I’ve seen more than enough as she guides her way into my office.
She sinks into my spare desk chair, the one I never did build up the courage to get rid of. “I’m just chugging away at a few things, that's all,” she remarks, dissecting her nails.
I shoot her a look that, hell, I can hardly make sense of myself. All I know is that she’s torturing me with the way she now sits up in the chair, flashing me those wide eyes and tucking that same leg over top of the other.
“Don’t act all surprised.” She smirks, resting her hands on either side of her face, elbows pressed into her thighs. “Don’t you know Americans live to work?”
I close my briefcase, hopeful that the sound of it slamming shut willslamsome sense into my mind. But it doesn’t. Instead, I plant myself in front of her and lean back against the desk.
There’s something enticing about the way her eyes narrow in on my hands before they stare into mine with a doe-eyed gaze. She’s got this innocence to her that I know is all a front—it has to be.
“You’re in England,love,” I say carefully, hardly realizing I’ve called her that until the way she subtly runs her tongue along her lower lip tells me she’s heard it all right. She heard it loud and clear.
