AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Did I ask for your opinion?” I inquire through a glower. “It’s rude to eavesdrop on people’s conversations.”
“I know,” she surmises, but she doesn’t move away like Lauren, and she doesn’t blush either. “I’m sorry. But you have to know how much the kids like you.”
Is she out of her damn mind?
They fear me like they do the thought of the boogeyman being underneath their bed. Or whatever it is, kids are scared of these days.
“Dylan, let me call you back,” I say before hanging up on him and pocketing my phone. “Listen, Shorty, let’s not beat around the bush. I’m no good here. What needs to happen is for that coach of yours to get his entitled ass down here and start versing these kids in—”
“He had to run out,” Hollyn tells me. “Something about an emergency.”
I roll my eyes. God help this woman for believing everything that comes out of his mouth.
Stepping down from the stairs leading up to the stands, I round Hollyn’s body and head toward the locker room.
“Please don’t tell me you’re quitting.”
“Then I won’t.”
“You can’t be serious,” Hollyn goes on. “There’s been some really big changes since you arrived.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “I think I saw a gray hair on me yesterday.”
“Oh, stop.” I make a right-hand turn, and Hollyn continues to follow me. “Maybe you didn’t know it, but you’re good at this.”
“I am.”
“See. It’s all gonna work out.”
“Maybe you should be convincing Weston of that, not me. I wasn’t supposed to be the head coach.”
“He’s trying—” I round on her so fast that Hollyn almost bumps into me. However, she halts herself on a dime and peers up at me with hope and a bunch of lies.
Weston is a loser who’s taking up time and space for someone to come in here who actually wants to do this. I’m not comprehending how she thinks he’s trying or doing the best he can when he isn’t doing shit.
“What’s up with you and him, anyway? Every time I pop off at that moron, you’re like his number one fan there to protect him. This isn’t how a hockey team is run. It’s me and you, and that’s not shit compared to—”
“Am I not doing enough?” she asks with a frown and I didn’t mean to blame her, but she needs to gain a reality check.
She’s done more than Weston.
She shows up every day.
She does try, but what can I do with a woman who doesn't know a single thing about hockey and can't wait to give out whatever snacks she brings?
“You’re fine,” I mutter with a dismissive hand. “However, that’s not the problem here. No offense, but how you got this job is beyond me. Who hired you?”
“Weston.”
I sigh because- shocker. “Right. Well, you should join me then and get out of here.”
“But what about him? What about—”
“There you go again,” I berate through her insanity. “What part of this aren’t you seeing? There’s no reason for you to stay and try to do something you weren’t trained to do. You can’t skate, Shorty. How the hell are you expected to teach a bunch of kids how to play hockey?”
“I’m trying—”
“No,” I cut in with a shake of my head. “This has shit to do with you and everything to do with it being Weston’s fault. You should’ve been the one managing games and scheduling. Not him. He’s the fuckin’ coach. Not you.”
