Chapter Eleven
Several hours later, Kyle was following his teammates into the locker room after a light training session. It didn’t matter that it was Sunday. Or that they’d played the day before. Griff apparently believed in optimising every day, although his definition of light would make most seasoned athletes wince.
It explained why the Sydney Smoke were the top-class team they were, but Kyle wondered if it was less to do with his team’s match fitness and more to do with Griff’s need to punish himself. It sucked they just happened to be caught in the middle of his emotional baggage.
“Kyle.” Griff’s stern command pulled him up short.
Oh Christ. What did he want now? Was it not bad enough he’d done about a thousand passing drills this morning? All Kyle wanted was to catch a shower and head back to his apartment, where he’d left Val curled up in his bed.
Hopefully she’d still be there to kiss all his aching muscles better.
Kyle scrubbed the image from his mind. It was epically squicky to be thinking such R-rated thoughts about the coach’s daughter when he was less than two metres away. Especially when Griff had an uncanny knack of knowing what Kyle was thinking at any given time. Which was mostly for the love of god can we just stop now.
“Yes, Coach?”
“My office.”
Tanner slid him a sideways what-the-fuck-did-you-do-now glance as Kyle reminded himself that being coached by the King was something he’d wanted for years. “Yes, Coach.”
Kyle followed the wild mane of hair and purposeful stride he’d come to know so well in the few short weeks he’d been here all the way into the great man’s office. He was a few paces behind, and Griff was already sitting behind his desk.
“Shut the door.”
Kyle hoped he didn’t look worried as he pulled on the knob. Did Griff know Kyle had spent several hours debauching Val last night?
“Sit.”
Kyle sat. “Is there a problem?”
“You could say that.”
Griff regarded him through glittering amber eyes that seemed to see right inside his head to all the images he was trying to hide. Kyle’s pulse picked up. He’d told Val her father didn’t scare him, but he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t acknowledge he was somewhat apprehensive right now. Griff had been clear about staying away from Val, and Kyle had given his word he would. And this man did, as Val had pointed out, hold Kyle’s rugby career in his hands.
Kyle swallowed. He hadn’t want his relationship with Val to come out this way, but…well…it was better to be out in the open. At least there wouldn’t be any sneaking around, now. Of course, he probably wouldn’t get any game time for what was left of the season, either…
“You know I didn’t want you here, right?” Griff said, his voice gruff.
Kyle blinked. So, not about Valerie? “Yes, Coach.”
“You know why?”
“You thought I was all flash and no substance. I hope I’ve proven you wrong.”
Griff’s brows beetled together. “No, Leighton. You haven’t. You’ve done nothing but prove me right since you got here.”
Kyle’s heart was beating now for an entirely different reason. His throat was suddenly parched. “With all due respect, Coach. I’ve been the highest try scorer since I got here.”
“Jesus Christ.” Griff thumped his fist on the desk, and the pens in his broken-handled coffee mug rattled. He pushed his chair back noisily as he stood. “You have no bloody clue, do you?”
Kyle tamped down his own temper. “You want me not to score any tries?”
Griff jabbed at the table with his forefinger. The pens rattled again. “Don’t be a smart-arse, Leighton.”
Kyle held up his hands in a conciliatory fashion. He was never going to get field time if he blew his stack at Griffin fucking King. “They didn’t have a problem with me scoring tries at the Centaurs.”
“Of course they did. Why do you think they traded you so late in the season?”
It was Kyle’s turn to stand, his chair falling back as he pushed it away. What the fuck was Griff trying to say? “Because I’ve always wanted to work with you and I have a great agent.”
Griff gaped at him, then he laughed, holding his stomach as if it were so hysterical his insides might fall out from all the funny. It ratcheted up Kyle’s pissed off several degrees.
When Griff finally settled, he locked two amber eyes on Kyle and shook his head. “Because you’re a fucking one-man band.”
Kyle shrugged. “My style is unique.” That wasn’t any secret.
“Your style is arrogant, Leighton.”
The accusation shot through Kyle like a bullet. He was an exceedingly self-sufficient player, that was true, but he’d sweated and toiled and given Griff everything he had and more, and he’d won them games, and this was the thanks he got?
“I don’t like you, Leighton, or your show-pony style of rugby. I especially don’t like that you’ve had your paws all over my daughter.”
Kyle had to bite his tongue. The urge to say at least someone in this room pays her some attention rode him hard, but he kept himself in check.
“But you have talent. Probably more raw talent than I’ve seen in anyone in a long time.”
The startling statement clearly hadn’t been easy to give, if the granite set of Griff’s jaw was anything to go by. Kyle certainly hadn’t been expecting it. It was the kind of praise he’d only ever dreamed of, coming from arguably the best player the game had ever seen. The kind of praise that would normally make him feel ten feet tall and bulletproof, but not so much in the face of Griffin King’s open hostility.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, Leighton,” he snapped. “Talent means squat if you aren’t prepared to be moulded.”
Kyle gritted his teeth. He would not lose his temper. “I am here to be moulded.”
“I see no evidence of that on the field, Leighton. Are you here to be coached by me, or are you here to keep doing the same shit you’ve always been doing and playing in your little team of one?”
Kyle knew he was an excellent rugby player. He knew he had talent. But he’d come here to be better. To let Griffin King make him better. “I want to be coached.”
“Really? Well, it seems you say that, and you think that, and you do all the right things in training, then you go on some one-man glory ride during the game. There were a half-dozen times when you should have passed the ball yesterday. There were guys waiting there to take it, and you decided in your infinite wisdom to go it alone.”
A sharp pain at the angle of his jaw alerted Kyle to how hard he was grinding his teeth. “And I followed through.”
“This time.”
Kyle shook his head. “And the last time. And the next time. And every time. I’ll follow through every time.”
That wasn’t arrogance. It was just Kyle’s unshakeable faith in his abilities.
Griff snorted. “Sure. Until you screw up one day. You fumble the ball, you misjudge a step, and then the monkey gets on your back, and you start missing everything and fucking up all over the field, and then you don’t have a team to rely on because you’re a one-man band and they’ll have given up on you a long time ago.”
“I won’t screw up.”
Another hysterical laugh cut the air with its harshness. “Of course you will, Leighton. Everyone does.” Griff shook his head. “You need to stop reading your own press. You’re never going to reach the heights every suck-up sports journo from here to the border is telling you you’re going to reach until you learn to become a team player and start passing the fucking ball.”
Kyle glared at the man he’d admired and looked up to almost his entire life. Between this tirade and his treatment of Val, he’d never wanted to punch another guy so bad. But that’d be dumb. As would ignoring the advice of the best rugby coach on the planet.
“Why do you think the Smoke is such a shit-hot team?” Griff demanded.
Because they had a shit-hot coach was the obvious answer, but the question appeared to be rhetorical, as Griff ploughed on.
“The Smoke is great because they work together as one. Not because one guy decides he can do it all himself. There are seven other guys out there on the field at any given time, and you’re going to need your team behind you when you’re shit out of luck, Leighton, and you will be. It happens to everyone at some point.”
Kyle’s first instinct was to call bullshit on that, but Griff was eyeballing him, waiting for it, expecting it, and he was fucked if he was going to give him the pleasure. He told Griff he wanted to be coached, so shutting his mouth and listening was a good first step.
“Look. I get it, Leighton. You’re used to being the guy in your family who takes charge, who gets things done. The one they look to when the shit hits the fan. I understand that it’s hard for you to rely on others when you’ve been let down by people in the past, when you know you can get it done quicker and better.”
Kyle blinked, stunned at Griff’s insight. How the fuck did he know all that stuff?
“What?” Griff glowered at him in response. “You think I don’t know how to use the internet or pick up a goddamn telephone? You think coaches don’t talk to each other? You think I don’t know every single thing about every player on my team?”
Kyle wouldn’t have thought that Griff spoke to anyone. He wasn’t known for his conversation or networking. He was known for being grumpy and reclusive. He wasn’t on social media, gave only what press he had to, and had the world’s oldest mobile phone. There wasn’t even a computer on his desk.
“I know everything about you, Leighton. Everything.”
Kyle swallowed. He sincerely fucking hoped not as he thought about Val bare-assed naked in his bed this morning.
“But you don’t need to worry about my family,” Griff continued, as if he hadn’t just tried to Jedi mind trick Kyle into thinking he could see inside the walls of his apartment. “Because that’s what the Smoke is. A family. They pull their weight, they don’t leave anyone to do the heavy lifting, they work together as a team, and have each other’s backs. And when you’re out there on the field, they’re your family. And they won’t let you down. Now…you want to be part of my family or not, Leighton?”
A hot rush of anger burned Kyle’s chest. His family might be fuck-ups, but they were his fuck-ups and no one got to judge them—least of all a guy who’d spent twenty years ignoring his real family and deeply hurting a woman whose only crime was to have lived.
A woman he loved.
Val had dismissed him uttering the L word last night as being too rash. Hell, so had he. But in the cold light of day, facing her father down, he knew that was bullshit. He loved Valerie King. If he had to, he’d love her enough for him and her father, but he knew which she’d rather, and if that meant pushing this guy who could ruin his career in the blink of an eye, then that’s what he’d do.
A red mist clouded his vision at the thought of Griff’s indifference to his own daughter. Couldn’t the man see what it did to her?
“I find it ironic that you’re talking to me about family.”
Sure, his might be dodgy as all fuck, but he’d never doubted he belonged.
Griff’s gaze honed onto his like a predator spying prey as a sudden hush descended over the room. It was like all the things that made all the sounds in the world ceased to exist as Griff narrowed his eyes and shoved his hands on his hips. “I’d tread very carefully now, Leighton.”
Fuck. That. His heart may be beating like crazy, and he might be breathing a little harder, but he wasn’t going to take lectures about family from this guy. He had to tread carefully, but he wasn’t going to let it slide, either.
“She thinks you don’t love her. All she wants is for you to love her.” Val wouldn’t thank him for this, Kyle knew. But it was high time someone confronted Griff on his treatment of his daughter.
“Don’t tell me what my daughter wants.” His lips were stiff as two planks.
“Well, clearly someone has to.”
“You know sweet FA about this, Leighton, and you gave me your word you’d stay away from her.”
Kyle was not going to get into a discussion about the extent of his relationship with Val. He sure as hell didn’t want to be caught in a lie or make things worse for her.
“We talk. There’s not a law against that.”
“Talk? You’ve been here, what? Two fucking minutes?
Kyle snorted. “It only took me two minutes to figure out how unhappy she is.”
“Hey, I provide for her.” He stabbed himself in the chest with his index finger. “I’ve always provided for her. Don’t talk about her like you know her better than I do.”
Kyle barked out a disbelieving laugh. He couldn’t help himself. Surely Griff didn’t really believe in his heart of hearts that he only had a fiscal responsibility to the relationship? That he could look into his daughter’s eyes and not see how much she yearned for him.
“Are you kidding? The entire team knows her better than you do.”
Griff stabbed the air with a finger in the direction of the door. “Get out,” he roared.
Kyle shook his head and held his ground, his fight or flight reflexes muscling up, but he held his ground. “Can’t you see you’re breaking her heart? She thinks she’s dead to you.”
Griff’s roar this time was more wounded than pissed off. He was breathing hard, his cheeks flushed, his brow screwed up, his nostrils flaring as he stared at Kyle with a look of such anguish on his face it was almost too painful to witness.
He pointed to the door. “Get. The fuck. Out.”
Griff’s voice was low and dangerous now. As dangerous as the taut lines of his body that seemed poised to strike. Kyle might be almost twenty years Griff’s junior, but the man was all height and muscle.
And about as wild as a wounded bull at the moment.
Getting into a fight with Val’s dad, or worse, giving him some kind of stroke, probably wouldn’t endear him to the woman he loved.
Kyle turned on his heel, a heady mix of adrenaline and testosterone keeping his head up and his back erect. Still, he was thankful for contracts and good agents—he’d still have a job tomorrow.
Whether he actually played another minute of rugby for the season was another thing.
“Leighton!” Griff barked as he reached the door.
Kyle took a calming breath as he turned to face the raging bull behind the desk. “Yes, Coach.”
“Pass the fucking ball.”
Kyle stiffened. It was hard not to take criticism of his rugby style personally. But he didn’t say a word, just turned back to the door and yanked it open, resisting the urge, only just, to bang it shut.
Eve, who was hovering outside the door, obviously waiting to go in, cocked an eyebrow and said, “You okay?”
Kyle nodded, but the adrenaline that had sustained his system in a high-octane fight or flight state during the discussion with Griff evaporated in a sudden whoosh, and he reached for the nearby wall, leaning against it heavily. She smiled at him sympathetically and patted him on the arm before opening the door and entering.
She didn’t close the door, and Kyle, still recovering from the encounter, wasn’t paying the low murmur of voices any heed until he heard his name mentioned.
“Kyle’s right.”
Kyle frowned and tuned into the conversation. Griff’s answer was a short, indistinct rumble Kyle couldn’t make out.
“Val does think she’s dead to you, and you are breaking her heart.”
There was nothing low or indistinct about Griff’s “And you can get out, too.”