Chapter 7: She is Off-Limits

Phoenix's POV

I slam my palm against the horn in the center of the steering wheel. "Learn to f*cking drive, you idiot!"

A frustrated grunt leaves my lips as I weave in between cars during the peak afternoon LA traffic. I'm beyond late for my private training session with Coach Monroe, but I struggled to get out of a meeting that ran overtime. Because of that, I was left with no choice but to speed down the highway to make sure I'm not so late that Coach chews me out for it.

The sign for the turn-off that leads me to the training facility comes into view and relief washes over me. Thank God. I'm almost there.

The last thing I want to be doing after a long day in the office is to have a private training session, but I agreed to it because I know it'll help our chances of winning this season, so I need to take one for the team as the lead pitcher.

Besides, Coach is one hell of a f*cking coach who knows what he's doing, so I trust him if he says the extra training will not only benefit me but the rest of the team. I'm all for doing anything for the Cats if it'll ensure we have a great season this year.

Last year we placed third, just missing the finals by two home runs. Because of that, I'm determined to take it all the way and win the damn championship. I know the Cats have it in them, we just must ensure that we start on the right foot and keep that momentum going throughout the season.

I pull my car into the athlete parking lot of the training facility and waste no time collecting my gym bag and rushing inside, half of the buttons on my white button-up shirt undone from my hasty exit from the office earlier.

Janet waves at me from the front desk as I pass by. "Good afternoon, Phoenix. Coach Monroe is waiting for you in the training room."

I nod in her direction. "Thank you, Janet. You look lovely today."

The younger woman smiles and I see the pink tinging her cheeks from my compliment. She is a lovely young woman who has been the receptionist at the facility for the past couple of years. Janet is very kind and professional, which seems to be the opposite of how Mia acts in the office. I roll my eyes at the thought.

The locker room is empty as I get changed out of my office clothes and into a pair of athletic shorts and a black tank top. When I walk into the field training room, Coach is standing in the middle of the diamond etched into the ground with his hands behind his back, watching me carefully as I enter with my mitten.

I give him a small wave. "Sorry, I'm late, Coach. I got caught up at work."

Coach walks toward me, waving me off with his hand. "It's no problem at all, Phoenix. I'm just glad you're here now so we can get started. You ready?"

I slip my hand into the mitten and nod, despite how f*cking exhausted I am.

***

Sweat is pouring down the side of my face as I reel my arm behind my head and use all the strength I still have left in my body to throw the ball toward Mike, one of the trainers, who is acting as the catcher.

I bend at the waist to rest my hands on my knees, sucking as much air into my lungs as possible. This sh*t is f*cking hard, but I love it. Since the age of four, I have been obsessed with baseball and couldn't wait until I was old enough to join the local baseball team in my town. Having the routine of training and playing each week kept me sane when my world was f*cking crumbling underneath my feet. And to this day, I still love it just as much as I did when I was four.

Mike and Coach walk toward me, so I turn my head to the side to look at them, breathing heavily.

"That one was perfect, Phoenix," Mike says as he throws the ball back to me. I catch it in my mitten with ease. "It had a great spin on it that would surely take the person bating off guard."

"Now that's what I like to hear," Coach cheers as he claps his hands together, a big smile on his lips. "Great work, Phoenix. You've been slugging your a*s off for the last two hours, so I think we'll leave it there for tonight. In our next session, we'll work on your fastballs."

"Great," I breathe as I stand to my full height. "Same time next week?"

"Same time next week should be perfect."

I clap Mike and Coach on the back, thanking them for a great, but f*cking tough, session. Dragging my feet back to the locker room, all I can think about is getting into the shower, ordering takeout, and then passing the f*ck out in bed. The thought of going out to grab a drink and potentially meet some women crosses my mind, but I quickly push it out. I'm too tired to even think about being balls-deep in anything right now.

My sweat and dirt-filled clothes hit the floor beside my feet as I change into some fresh clothes to drive home in. I don't need the added stress of needing to clean my leather seats after sitting on them in filthy clothes. I don't have time for it, honestly.

There is a knock at the door when I pull my shirt over my head. I tousle my damp hair as I watch Coach walk into the room. His blue eyes are watching me, but I can tell by the way they move across my face and his forehead scrunches that he has something on his mind that he needs to express.

"Is everything okay, Coach?" I ask, sitting on the bench waiting for him to get whatever he needs off his chest.

I have played for the LA Cats for a couple of years now, and in that time I have never known Coach to be the worried type or feel as though he can't share what's on his mind. He's almost like an open book to the point where I feel like I know him better than I did my parents. Which is why it's odd to see him acting so… nervous.

"Everything is fine," Coach says, stopping to stand a few feet away from me. His eyes dart between mine and the floor a couple of times before he speaks again. "But there is something I want to ask you."

I quirk up an eyebrow and pull my lip ring between my teeth for a moment before releasing it. "What's up?"

Coach sighs and walks to sit beside me on the bench. His head drops forward, his eyes cast down toward the floor, and his shoulders slump forward. "I hope this isn't crossing any boundaries we share, but I would like some advice on what I should do with my daughter, Tate."

My ears perk up at the mention of Tatum. Ah yes, sweet Tatum who acts innocent around everyone else but is actually a f*cking fox between the sheets. Memories of the sounds she made when I slipped my hand between her thighs, and how f*cking sweet she tasted when I–

"Phoenix?"

I clear my throat, trying to push away the images of Tatum from my head as I turn to face her father. I slide my hands down the length of my thighs, hoping Coach doesn't notice how hard I am beneath my shorts. "Yes, sorry. What is it you want advice about?"

"Well, I'm sure you remember how I mentioned I want Tate to pursue a career in accounting, but she isn't overly keen on the idea."

I think back to the conversation I had with Tatum the other night about how she has big dreams of wanting to be a writer and has no desire to go into accounting for the rest of her life. How her face lit up when she spoke about her love for reading and writing proved how passionate she is about pursuing a career in the industry.

I swallow hard. "I don't think I should get involved with this, Coach. It's not my place–"

"Phoenix, please. I just need to know that I'm doing the right thing here," Coach pleads. The desperation for a second opinion is evident behind his eyes.

I desperately want to tell him that I'm not interested in getting involved with their family drama, but all I can think about is how I had wished that my father cared enough about me to want to get involved in my life, instead of casting me away like I was a piece of trash that needed to be dumped. F*cking a*shole.

I didn't have a family who cared about what I did with my life enough to want to get involved, so I can't help but sympathize with Coach Monroe and his love for his daughter. But on the other hand, I know that Tatum doesn't want to live the life her father has mapped out for her. She wants to spend her time doing something creative, not sitting at a desk crunching numbers for the next fifty years of her life.

A loud sigh falls from my lips, and I rub my hands together slowly, thinking about what to say next. "Coach," I start, grabbing his attention. His eyes bore into mine waiting for me to continue. "I know you love her and want what's best for her, but if you keep pushing her into a corner, sooner or later she's going to want to break free and then you'll lose her forever."

Coach stares at me for a moment, and I can see my words sinking in behind his eyes as he processes what I said. I might not know Tatum well, but I know she doesn't want this life. I shouldn't care about this family and what they do behind closed doors, but Coach has been like a father to me over the years, so I only want the best for him.

"I think you might be right, Phoenix." Coach sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "This has given me a lot to think about."

I nod and stand to gather my gym bag, not knowing what else to say. I hate that I put my two cents into a situation that didn't need anything from me, but I just couldn't help myself. When it comes to Tatum as of late, I can't seem to control a damn thing that I do.

As I sling the heavy bag over my shoulder, Coach slaps a hand on my back, a warm smile on his lips. "Thanks again for the advice, Phoenix. I appreciate it. And great work in training today. This season is going to be our best yet."

"Any time, Coach."

Before I can take a step forward, Coach squeezes my shoulder, halting me in place. His eyes find mine, holding them hostage for several seconds before he speaks again.

"I thought I'd let you know first before I tell the rest of the team, but I want to make it clear that my daughter is off limits, got it? I don't want her getting caught up in this world that she's not a part of. It's the last thing that she needs."

I swallow hard as images of the time I've spent with Tatum flash before my eyes, Coach's warning playing like a siren in the back of my mind.

F*ck.