Kane being named the new coach of the team.
My dad handing the team over to me.
It’s a lot to process, to say the least.
Sure, there have been rumors about me taking over from the minute I came on board after I graduated college, but I never thought my dad would entrust a team on the brink of winning the Cup to me. Nor did I ever consider that Kane might be named head coach. That’s a lot of change for a team the league knows will be one of the ones to beat this year.
With my coffee in hand and dressed in my favorite black power suit and heels, I walk into the offices of the Florida Fury, saying a quick hello to our receptionist, Tracy. She looks me up and down and sighs with what I think might be envy. Tracy is one of those young, impressionable girls who isn’t yet comfortable in her own skin. Although in this moment, I feel a little like Tracy, which is the polar opposite of my usual confidence.
I head right to my dad’s corner office. “Hey, Barbara, is he available?”
His assistant looks at me over the rim of the reading glasses resting on the tip of her nose. She’s probably wondering where she fits in with my dad’s new plans. It’s just another one of the million things to consider in my new role. It might be awkward if she works as my assistant—she’s known me since I was six.
“You know he’s always available for you.” She goes back to looking at her screen and types away.
“Thanks, Barbara.” I walk past her, taking one last big breath before opening his door.
My dad is on his phone with his back to me, leaning back in his chair and staring at the view of the Gulf, talking about some vacation he’s about to go on. I clear my throat so he knows I’m here and he swivels around, signaling for me to sit on one of the couches in the corner.
When I take a seat on his leather couch, I think about how it’s almost comical how different our offices are. My dad’s is all old money and “chief of the company” vibe. Dark wood, black leather couches, bookshelves lined with awards instead of reading material. Even one of his two pen holders looks as if it’s from the 1980s.
He finishes his conversation and hangs up. “And to what do I owe this morning visit?”
I stare at him for a beat until he smiles and joins me, sitting in the chair next to me. He pats my knee and leans back.
“Dad.” Somehow, I think I was able to convey everything going on in my head in that one word because he laughs.
“You deserve it. You can do it. Your mother and I are going to travel.”
I place my coffee on the table in front of us and stare at him. “Why not just stay on for a bit? Maybe offer some guidance for the first year?”
At first the only response I get is a contemplative sigh. Then he speaks. “Sometimes I look around and I’m shocked at what I’ve built.”
I want to throw a tantrum, fall into the couch and wiggle my arms and legs in a fit of annoyance, because he’s going to tell me the same story he always does. How he came from nothing and built everything we have.
“I came from nothing immigrant parents who barely spoke English. They never would’ve thought it was possible, what I’ve achieved, but they moved here for the American dream. Maybe they weren’t able to make it come true for themselves, but I did. And I didn’t have anybody to fall back on.”
I nod, hoping to make the story I’ve heard every time I’ve worried I can’t do something my entire life go faster.
“If I failed, there was no life preserver waiting for me. I was going to sink. The pressure of that kept me going. Kept me from accepting failure. Everyone needs that, otherwise it’s too easy to give up when times are hard.”
“But—”
He shakes his head. “There is no but here, sweetie, there’s just do it. I believe in you. Your mother believes in you.”
“This is our year, Dad, and trades are going to be important. So much is resting on my shoulders now, and I’m not sure I’m qualified.”
He laughs again, a full belly laugh, and he shakes his head as though he can’t believe me. I don’t usually doubt myself, but this is a huge responsibility. “You’ve been watching me work this team since you were little. You know what to do. Just have to trust your gut.” His phone rings and he presses the speaker button on the phone next to him. “Yes, Barbara?”
“The movers are here,” she says, and I swear she sniffles.
“Send them in.”
“Dad, we’re not finished.”
He rises from his chair. “We are. Now you’re going to move in here.”
I shake my head. “I’m fine where I am.”
He tilts his head. “Sweetie, for people to respect you, where do you need to be?”
I nod because my dad’s corner office is the largest one with the best view. It’s prestigious and screams “I’m in charge.” Although I’ll have to redo the office, I know I need to move in here.
“Okay,” I say. “So you’re not even going to keep any space here?”
“No, I’m retiring and leaving the team to you.” He directs the movers to pack up the awards on the bookshelves before turning back to me. “Do you want anything? Bookshelves, desk?”
“That’s okay.”
“I figured.” He turns back to the movers. “Everything will go.”
I sit and watch the movers start to take apart my dad’s office and my gut twists.
“First line of business is the press conference.”
“Press conference?” My forehead wrinkles.
“Burrows needs to announce his retirement.” He grabs his suit jacket from the hanger behind the door.
“Were you even going to tell me you scheduled a press conference?” I stand from the couch.
“I know what kind of worker you are. I knew you’d be here.” He winks at me. “Let’s go.”
I take my coffee with me. At this point, I might as well just put it in an IV. I have a feeling there’s an unlimited number of days with little rest ahead of me.
We get down to our pressroom where the postgame interviews happen. The Fury logo is splashed across the background, and chairs are tucked under the long table with several microphones lined up. The press aren’t in yet because the sound tech guys are double-checking that everything is all set to go.
I walk out of the room to go find Kane and stop, seeing him coming out of the locker room down the hall. He’s distracted, fixing his tie, and I take the opportunity to watch him for a moment, studying those strong hands that have moved my body into positions I never thought possible but are now fumbling with the silky fabric.
“Fuck,” he murmurs and stops, his head hanging down from his sunken shoulders.
I should disappear. He’s obviously having a moment, and we don’t do moments. Our relationship has one mutual goal and that’s getting the other one off.
I swivel on my heel to discreetly go back into the pressroom until I hear his whispered words. “Get it together, Burrows.”
I’ve never heard Kane’s voice anything other than cocky, arrogant, or confident, but his pep talk to himself stops me, making me turn back around to face him. His tie is completely undone and hanging around his neck, and he’s staring at the ceiling with his back to me now.