I cross my arms over my chest. “Your daughter is a senior, as are many of your daughters on this team. A college scout isn’t going to want to recruit a soft player who doesn’t take this game seriously. This is varsity. They need to step up.”
Mrs. Russo mimics my stance. “We didn’t have issues like this with our last coach, and those seniors got recruited just fine.”
Ah. So that’s what this is about.
She doesn’t have a problem with my coaching. She has a problem withme.
I open my mouth to fire back at her, but a deep voice cuts through the air.
“With all due respect,” Landon says, walking to stand beside me, “sometimes a team needs some tough love. If they put in the work to understand where they went wrong now, they won’t make the same mistakes the remainder of the season.”
Mrs. Russo’s eyes soften as she glances at Landon. “I just don’t think she needs to be so abrasive about it. They’re just girls.”
I let out a sardonic laugh.Of course.I’m abrasive because I’m a female. But if Landon were coaching their kids, they wouldn’t bat an eye because he’s a man and it’s expected—allowed—for a man to be a tough coach.
Girls are bossy. Men are leaders.
I’m too loud, too intense, too much.
Tale as old as fucking time.
“Coach Ainsley is the best person for this job. She’s holding the team to a standard, and?—”
“And I’m the coach, whether you like it or not,” I blurt. “I will coach this team how I see fit, and these athletes will play to the best of their ability. If you can’t handle that, then you can sign them up for a less competitive, demanding sport.”
Without waiting to hear another complaint, I spin around to face my team. “Anybody want to quit?”
A few of them gasp while the rest shake their heads.
“Good, then sit here and cheer on your JV friends.”
“Yes, Coach.”
I stride to the table, just far enough away from parents’ earshot, with Landon and Raymond hot on my heels.
“Don’t let her get to you,” Landon says.
I jab my pointer finger into his chest, my voice a low hiss. “Don’t ever interrupt me when I’m talking to my team.”
His eyebrows hit his hairline. “I was defending you?—”
“I don’t need you coming to my defense.” My hands shake, adrenaline coursing through me. I’m hit with déjà vu so hard,it’s as if I’m sixteen all over again. “It only makes me look weak. I can hold my own against those parents. I don’t need you smoothing things over for me. I’ve got this.”
Raymond lays a hand on Landon’s shoulder. “Go get ready for your game.”
Landon walks backwards a few steps, his eyes locked on mine. “I was just trying to help.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t need your fucking help.”
“How could I forget?” He holds his hands up, turns around, and walks away. Under his breath, I catch him mutter, “You don’t need anyone but yourself.”
Chapter 11
Landon
“Let’s go!”
Another goal.
