My legs are burning. I collapse onto the turf, exhausted, and I sincerely doubt I have the strength left to stand. Except I have to, because everyone around me springs back up at the sound of Coach Lucy’s whistle. Turns out Lucy is indeed tough. My instincts were right about that.
I guess we need that. I just didn’t expect to be in this much pain during training. It’s not like I’m right out of the minors or something. I thought I was in pretty good shape. I can see Coach Todd leaning in to whisper something to Lucy as she talks to him around the whistle between her teeth. She’s got us running shuttles between the goal lines, over and over. After she had us doing squats in the weight room, I might add.
I should feel relieved. The more I focus on my muscles, the less I’m searching the maintenance crew for my father or trying to convince myself to forget about Lucy Nelson.
Two of the other midfielders, Josh and Reggie, take pity on me and offer me a hand to get to my feet. “This is fucking brutal,” Reggie grunts, limping a bit as we jog back to the start line.
“I’m glad it’s not just me,” I mutter, still trying to catch my breath.
They both shake their heads. “Naw, man, they’re trying to kill us. Or Coach is trying to impress somebody.”
“Or both,” Josh adds, digging his toe into the turf and lining up for another round of the shuttle run.
I groan and do the same, but then I see Lucy…Coach Lucy check her watch. She blows her whistle long and loud and says, “That’s a wrap, men.”
Everyone cheers and starts to head through the tunnel toward the locker room, but she stands in our path. “Not so fast! You’ll flood your bodies with lactic acid if you don’t stretch and cool down. On your bums, legs out in front.”
She doesn’t have to ask me twice to sit down. I plunk onto the grass and reach for my toes, noticing the team following my lead. Lucy walks around, telling us where and how to bend and stretch, counting off until we’re all breathing along with her.
I’m mesmerized by it. She stops in front of me, lifting her hand as she breathes in, pressing her palms toward the grass as she breathes out, and I breathe along with her. It feels intimate, like we’re all connected. I had no idea anyone could create this sort of feeling while we’re all outdoors, sprawled on the grass.
Her voice is low and calm as she tells us which muscles to stretch and I feel my body relaxing, my quads un-knotting. I’ve never experienced this before, breathing in unison with the team while we cool down. It’s kind of…magical. I don’t know how to explain it. Finally, Lucy decides we’ve suffered enough and sends everyone off to the showers.
I linger behind. Not because I have a sadistic urge to talk to her, but because I really can’t move any faster than this slug pace. I limp slowly as she finishes her conversation with the other coaches and strides my way.
“Settling in with a little light torture,” I tease her, trying not to groan as I walk.
She grins. “Is the new training regimen too much for you, Moyer?”
I love this banter we have, like she’s totally comfortable around me. I want to respond with something snarky. I want to make a sexual innuendo. But then we have to descend a few stairs and my quads practically give out on me, so all that comes out of my mouth is, “Oof.” She laughs and continues walking past me.
I’m not ready to be done talking to her yet, though. I lean against a wall and tease, “I’m ready for anything you can throw at me, Lucy. Try me.”
She turns to look at me over her shoulder and has the grace not to say anything about how pathetic I look after one of her workouts. “Are you always this cocky?”
I nod and pause for a second. Her brows shoot up, but I keep going. I even press off the wall so I can stand in front of her at my full height. I must smell terrible, but she wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t used to the smell of healthy sweat. “I told you, Lucy. It’s not cocky if I can back it up.” Lucy makes a face. “On the field. Obviously.” I wink. She smacks me with her clipboard.
“Hit the showers, Moyer. I’ll see if you’ve still got spare energy for jokes tomorrow.”
I almost have the energy to strut into the locker room.
Josh and Reggie are barely limping anymore by the time we shower and change. They motion for me to sit with them in the film room. Hopefully this is the only time I’ll watch tape of the team playing without me on the field. Coach talks us through the game against Charlotte, pausing to talk about who is out of position or who made a particularly crisp pass.
Basically none of this applies to me and I find it hard to pay attention. I watch as much as I can stand and then I step out, thinking I’ll go get a drink of water or something. But when I get into the hall I hear music coming from one of the offices. Like a nosy motherfucker, I stick my head in the door and see Lucy rocking out while she makes notes on a whiteboard.
She’s got all the players’ names written on the board and she’s making bulleted lists beneath each our names, like to-do lists. I see Reggie has “acceleration” on his list and Josh has “range of motion.” I decide to make my presence known before she fills in the line beneath my name.
“Hawk. Cawky attitude,” I say, leaning against her door jamb with my arms crossed over my chest.
She whips her head around and nearly drops her marker. “Jesus, Hawk. You scared me.” Lucy blows a lock of hair out of her eyes and reaches for the speaker on her desk, silencing the music. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in film?”
I shrug. “Felt like seeing which skills our conditioning coach was having us focus on tomorrow.” I gesture at the board. “You’re making notes on everyone?”
She squints. “It’s literally my job to analyze everyone’s performance and make a plan to improve it. So yeah. I’m making notes on everyone.”
I hold my hands up. “I get it. I just wondered what you have in mind for me, that’s all.”
She licks her lip. “Nobody’s seen you play for us yet, Mr. Moyer. You remain a mystery.”
I meet her gaze coolly and she averts her eyes, suddenly fidgeting nervously. I’m not sure why I’m riding her about this. She’s right—it’s definitely her job to think about this shit. I guess I don’t like the idea of a woman I’m interested in digging into my potential weaknesses. Which, I remind myself, is why I shouldn’t be interested in this woman anymore. “You never mentioned that you were in this line of work.”
She raises her brows at me. “You never asked me for my resume.”
“Fair enough.” I chuckle. “You’re honestly telling me you haven’t watched film from when I was with Utah? You have no idea what I need to work on?”
She sighs. “Of course I’ve watched film, Hawk. I have plans for you. Don’t worry.”
I open my mouth to make a snappy retort, but her phone rings and her eyes flash with concern. “Excuse me, please,” she says. “I have to take this.”
“Sure. I have to get back anyway.” But like a dick, I make no move to retreat from her office.
She doesn’t answer the call, instead walking around the desk and starting to close the door on me. I guess she’s really serious about this. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Hawk,” she says, all but shoving me from the room. As she closes the door in my face I hear her say, “This is Lucy. Is anything wrong?”
My head immediately goes to her kid, and I want to smack myself for my inability to let it go, whatever this thing is that I feel for her. There’s nothing I can do about it if there is something wrong with her son. The whole thing is none of my business. I need to focus on my game and get myself starting on the field, to earn my contract. I do not need to focus on Lucy Nelson’s tongue licking her lip before she analyzes my performance. I push off the wall and limp back to the media room with the team.