Page 23 of Uncoachable

“We’ve run that rotation for two seasons,” he says, his voice tight. “It works. Why fix what isn’t broken?”

“Because it’s predictable,” I counter. “The league has caught up. If you stay static, you’re dead.”

Rick looks at Delaney, then back at me. “We’re testing it. Today.”

Delaney’s face turns a shade of purple that almost matches the team’s color. His mouth opens, a rebuttal clearly poised on the tip of his tongue—but then he catches my father’s eye.

William isn’t even looking at Delaney. He’s looking at his own hands, his wedding ring catching the light as he twists it, once, twice.

It’s a silent display of absolute power.

He doesn’t have to defend me because his silence says that his word is law.

I hate it.

I want Rick to defend the logic of the change because the math supports it. I want the room to agree because the system works, not because they’re afraid of the man who signs their paychecks.

I catch Jenna watching me.

She’s leaning back, her pen tapping a rhythmic beat against her chin. She sees the tension in my shoulders and the way I’m gripping my pen. She knows exactly what kind of win this was, and she doesn’t look impressed.

My father doesn’t speak much during the rest of the meeting. He doesn’t need to. His presence does enough damage on its own.

When the meeting wraps, Jenna lingers as I gather my things.

“Drinks tonight?” she asks, her voice casual but her eyes sharp.

I hesitate.

I’ve always been a loner in these organizations. It’s safer.

Then I look at her properly and she meets my gaze without flinching.

“Sure,” I say.

She smiles. “Good. You’ll need allies in this building, Iveline. Real ones.”

She leaves without waiting for a response.

Even as she walks away, I catch the sharp twitch at the corner of her mouth, the subtle impatience behind her humor.

Jenna Walsh doesn’t waste energy on things that don’t yield results. That will make her useful—or very dangerous.

Allies.

The word sits heavy in my stomach.

***

Practice is sharper today.

Not easier—just cleaner, more deliberate. The players are beginning to understand that I’m here to stay, and it shows. They listen with intention. They think before they act.

Even Callahan skates differently today. His jaw is still tight and his shoulders are stiff, but his movements are precise.

He’s trying to prove he isn’t a distraction, which, ironically, makes him all I can focus on.

Halfway through the scrimmage, I hear it. It’s low, off to the side, coming from the bench.