Possessive Coach Read online

  Possessive Coach

  BB Hamel

  Copyright © 2020 by B. B. Hamel

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design by Coverluv Book Designs

  Contents

  Get your free book!

  1. David

  2. Chloe

  3. David

  4. Chloe

  5. David

  6. Chloe

  7. David

  8. Chloe

  9. David

  10. Chloe

  11. David

  12. Chloe

  13. David

  14. Chloe

  15. David

  16. Chloe

  17. David

  18. Chloe

  19. David

  20. Chloe

  21. David

  22. Chloe

  23. Chloe

  Also by BB Hamel

  Get your free book!

  Sign up for my mailing list and find out about new releases, giveaways, and more.

  Plus, get a free book and other awesome bonus material! Click here >>

  1

  David

  Warm wind blows down the dark red and brown brick path as I head toward the athletics building.

  It’s late and the campus is empty and quiet as I walk past a grouping of low bushes outside of the administration building. The building’s columns are white and thick, and spotlights shine on them from the ground. I can taste the salt and smell the ocean on the air, and I let a smile slip across my lips. There’s nothing like walking on campus when it’s empty like this, with the smell of the sea not far away and the sound of the soft breeze moving through the immaculate green shrubbery.

  In just a few minutes, I’d be tucked away in my humid little closet of an office, watching football game tape over and over again, my mind transported back to those moments, those plays. But right now, I feel like I can breathe.

  I turn a corner and slow my walk, the moment drifting away. I frown as my eyes drift over toward another copse of tall, square bushes near the admin building’s steps, away from the spotlights. I spot a pair of students tucked just beside the branches, a large boy with a black backpack and a much smaller girl, pale with wide eyes.

  It looks like they’re arguing. I glance around and don’t spot anyone else. The only other sound is the wind, and the cool, dry California air. For some reason, I come to a stop and watch the pair of them, the game tape forgotten, my little closet office no longer the object of my mental attention. I’m not sure what makes me pay so much attention to them, but I stand there, staring and tense.

  Maybe it’s because the guy’s frame looks familiar. He’s tall and broad, and his mop of blond hair falls gracefully back over his head. He’s wearing a polo shirt and some gray shorts with dark blue boat shoes. The backpack looks like it’s empty, deflated and hanging from his shoulders. He looks like most of the guys that go to this school, except he’s bigger and more muscular by far.

  But if I’m honest with myself, it’s the girl that makes me pause. I recognize her after a moment. I’ve seen her around the athletics department a few times, although I’m not sure what her role is. She has long, dark hair, wide blue eyes, and full pale lips. She’s beautiful in a quiet and understated kind of way, totally unlike the blonde and sporty tanned girls that tend to go to this school. Those girls spend all their time at the nearby beach, but the brunette standing twenty feet away looks like she spends all her time tucked away in the back corner of some moth-eaten library reading obscure French literature.

  She takes a step back and I catch the sound of a raised voice. The guy sounds angry as he moves closer to her, closing their gap. His body is tense and there’s real fear in her eyes. I realize this is more than just a simple argument and start walking toward the pair, my heart beating hard in my chest.

  I start to make sense of what they’re saying. “You fucking lied to me,” the guy growls at her, and I know that voice. I frown a little bit, head tilted to one side. “You said you fucking liked it.”

  “Erik, come on,” the girl answers. “I’m just not… I don’t know. I’m not interested, okay? You’re cool and all, just stop.”

  Erik.

  That voice, that frame. I didn’t recognize him at first because I’m not used to seeing him out of his uniform. But as soon as I hear that name, it clicks in my head.

  Erik Pacific, star quarterback of the California University Tigers.

  He takes a step toward the girl again and reaches out. She jerks away and says something sharp. Erik growls and moves toward her again, pushing her backward. She staggers away, nearly falls. She throws her hands out, defending herself, as Erik grabs her wrist and twists it. She cries out, fear in her voice, and Erik says something low and angry, getting closer to her, twisting her wrist tighter.

  I don’t hesitate. As soon as he touches her, I’m moving. All my reservations and confusion are gone, replaced with white-hot anger.

  I’m on Erik in a second. I grab his shoulder and shove him away from the girl. I whip my fist into his jaw, knocking him backward. Erik is so shocked that he stumbles away from me, despite being bigger and stronger, but I’m not about to back down. I hit him again in the stomach and throw him to the concrete. His eyes show fear as I kick him in the gut, doubling him over.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I growl at him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “Coach David,” he groans.

  I loom over him, breathing hard. I stare down at the bastard, rage rolling through me. No other thoughts occurred to me in that moment when I saw him hurt that girl. I don’t know what he planned on doing, but it wasn’t going to be good. Maybe he would’ve let her go after scaring her, or maybe he was going to hurt her more. I don’t know what would’ve happened if I hadn’t stepped in, but that bastard put his hands on a woman.

  I can’t stand by and let something like that happen, star quarterback or not.

  Slowly, my heartrate starts to stabilize. I turn away from Erik and walk over to the girl. I hold my hands out. “Are you okay?”

  She stares at me, her eyes wide. “You’re… you’re the assistant coach. You’re Coach Fyall.”

  I nod once and glance back over my shoulder. Erik’s slowly sitting up, wincing at the pain in his gut. I look back at the girl. “What’s your name?”

  “Chloe,” she says. “I’m, uh… I’m the team tutor.”

  It locks into place. That’s why I’ve seen her around the athletics building. She’s the team tutor, the girl we pay to make sure our idiot athletes aren’t failing any of their courses. That also explains why I don’t really know her, since I just deal with the players, and not as much with the support staff.

  She stares at me, her pretty pale eyes wide. She’s wearing a low-cut black tank top and a pair of tight jean shorts. She crosses her arms over her chest and bites her lip, and for a second, I want to pull her against me. I want to hug her tight, hold her, kiss her, tell her it’ll be okay. But anger gets the better of me and I turn away to look at Erik as he struggles to his feet.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I growl at him.

  “We were just fooling around. Right, Chloe?” He glares at the girl.

  I glance back at her. “Was that just some kind of game?” I ask her.

  She frowns but doesn’t say anything.

  I look back at Erik. “You stupid shithead,” I say. “You don’t get enough on this campus already, you have to mess around with this girl?”

  He glares at me, but the lit
tle shit knows I’m right. Erik’s treated like a god on our campus. We’re a fairly large and prestigious institution, but we’re still always overlooked. Our neighbor is USC, and they get all the media attention. Most players want to go there, and we rarely pick up talent like Erik. His freshman year last year was a stunning success, and we made our first bowl game in a very, very long time. Now there’s a lot riding on him, and the administration is doubling down on their support.

  So he’s treated like a god walking among us. Which only makes me even more angry. These football players are treated like rock stars, and yet they’re still entitled little bitter assholes if they’re not given absolutely everything. It makes me rage that just playing for these great schools isn’t enough, they need everyone to lick their assholes too.

  “We were just messing around,” he says. “And you fucking hit me.”

  “You’re damn right I did.” I clench my jaw and stop myself from talking. I might hit the bastard all over again if I let myself lose my temper.

  “You hit me,” he repeats, his eyes narrowing. “You know that was fucking stupid, right?”

  My jaw drops. I stare at him in total disbelief. “Are you joking right now?”

  “I’m not joking,” he says. “I know what this school thinks about me. Ask yourself this, you think Coach would get rid of me before he got rid of you?”

  I almost lose it. I almost hurt the kid again, but there’s some voice in the back of my head that knows he’s right, or at least is afraid he might be. There’s a lot riding on Erik, and I’m not positive anyone would believe me over him right now, even if Chloe was willing to speak up.

  Which, by the way she’s reacting to all this, I really doubt it.

  “Go the fuck home,” I say to him, keeping my voice level. “Show up for practice tomorrow morning. If anyone asks how you got that bruise on your fucking face, you tell them you walked into a door. And you better pray I don’t talk to Coach.”

  “You wouldn’t,” he growls.

  “I would.” I don’t back down an inch. “Get out of here, Erik.”

  “We were just playing round,” he says, sounding like a petulant toddler. “You tell him, Chloe.”

  “Start fucking walking,” I say, clenching my fists, about to lose my temper again.

  He hesitates, but he turns and walks off. I watch him go, so angry at myself, so angry at him.

  I shouldn’t have let him go like that. I should’ve dragged him to the police station and made a report. But I don’t know what Chloe wants, and I’m not about to act like an idiot and fuck everything up.

  I turn back to the girl and she looks away, down at the ground. I let out a breath and step over to her. “You okay?” I ask.

  “I’m fine. He’s just… he’s just an asshole. I don’t think he was going to, you know… do anything.”

  “I saw a lot of it,” I say, my voice soft. “He already shoved you.”

  She looks away again. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “Chloe…”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” she repeats, meeting my gaze, her eyes hard.

  I nod once. “Sure.” We lapse into silence and I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to push her if she’s not ready to talk about what just happened, but I also can’t just let her be alone. I cock my head a little and lets my eyes roam along her body before landing on her lips again. “Why don’t you let me walk you home.”

  She hesitates then shrugs. “Sure, whatever. It’s not that far. I’m fine, though.”

  “You got anyone at home?” I ask.

  “My roommate,” she says. “We live in an apartment just off campus.”

  “Good, okay.” I let out a breath. “I don’t want to leave you alone tonight.”

  “I’m really fine,” she says.

  “I know you are. Come on, let’s get you home.”

  She bites her lip but doesn’t argue. She falls into step with me, leading the way across campus.

  CU is right in the heart of LA, not too far from USC. We’re minutes from the beach, and a lot of kids come here to party and surf. That’s not so bad, if they’re getting their work done, but a lot of them don’t, and CU has high academic standards. Because of that, CU has a high dropout rate.

  But the campus itself is beautiful. Contemporary architecture meets classical Ivy League styling, though we’re not an Ivy school. Chloe walks down the brick sidewalk, past a large bubbling fountain just outside of the admin building with its long white columns, and heads toward the main road that cuts through campus.

  “So how do you know Erik?” I ask her, trying to think of anything to say.

  “Tutoring,” she says. “We met tutoring, you know, for the team. He wasn’t so bad at first.”

  I hesitate but decide to press a little. “But then?”

  She glances at me. “He can be a little pushy. Entitled, I guess. I’ve been tutoring him in math, which is pretty bad considering he’s in the dumbest math class available.”

  “Math for athletes,” I say with a grin. “We refer to it as Math for Toddlers.”

  She laughs a little. “Exactly. And he needs tutoring. For a really smart football player, that kid is dumb as a rock.”

  “Probably just doesn’t care,” I say. “So what happened with him?”

  “Well, he wanted me to go to his place on campus for studying. We’re not really supposed to do that, since I get paid. I’m supposed to do it during official hours, you know? But I figured, what the hell, he’s the star player. Can’t hurt to help out a little more. So I went over.” She stops talking as we get to a crosswalk. We stand and wait for the light to change before heading out. When we reach the other side, we’re officially off campus. There’s a row of low buildings, shops at the bottom, apartments at the top. Most of the shops are chains, like Chipotle and Gap, the sort of stuff college kids want.

  “What happened next?” I ask.

  “He got pushy,” she says. “Wanted… you know. More.” She looks away. “I wasn’t interested. I managed to get out of there, but he kept following me, you know? Kept pestering me. Eventually I told him to fuck off, and I guess that’s when you came over.”

  I let out a breath. “I see.”

  “I don’t know what he planned on doing. I mean, he wasn’t going to really hurt me, right? He was just mad I told him to fuck off. Just wanted to get back at me.”

  I frown a little but don’t say anything. It didn’t look like he was going to back down to me. In fact, in the moment, I was pretty sure he was going to hurt her even more if I didn’t stop it.

  “This is me,” she says, stopping at an unmarked green door. It’s made of wood and metal, and some of the hinges are starting to rust. It looks like an old building, and I bet it hasn’t been updated since the day it was built. There are two intercoms on the right side and two small mailboxes hanging on the left. “We’re on the top floor.”

  “Above a McDonald’s. Really nice.”

  She smiles. “Smells like fries in my place all the time,” she says. “It was cool at first, but now I can’t eat the stuff anymore.”

  “Not the biggest loss in the world.”

  She laughs. “It is when you’re in college.”

  “Fair point.” I smile at her and can’t help but move closer. She has a nice laugh, and her smile lights up her face. “Listen, are you sure you’re okay? We can talk, if you want, or we could—”

  “I’m fine,” she says quickly. “Honestly, I just want to put this behind me and move on.”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “Look, thanks for what you did back there. Watching you hit him felt really good.” She laughs and shakes her head. “I’m not even into that macho man thing, but when you punched him in the face for me, it was like…”

  “It felt good to watch that smug asshole get punched,” I say.

  “Exactly. Yeah.” She meets my eyes for a moment and bites her lip. Both of us linger closer, and I’m tempted to reach out and touch her. I just wan
t her to know that she’s not alone, and that she’ll be okay.

  But I pull away. It’s not the time, far from the time. “Look, take my phone number,” I say. “If you want to talk or whatever, just text or call. Any time.”

  “It’s not necessary. I’m really fine, honestly.”

  “Take it anyway.”

  She sighs, takes out of her phone, and types in my number. She calls me so I have her number and tilts her head again.

  “Thanks, Coach Fyall,” she says.

  I wince. “God, please. Call me David.”

  “Okay.” She smiles. “David.”

  “Go on up. I’ll see you again later.”

  She nods, unlocks the door, and heads inside. I wait to make sure the door shuts behind her before I turn back and start walking toward campus.

  I take the long way. I go down Maple and swing right onto Tennis, walking along a block of bungalows. They’re probably all worth millions at this point, but them of them are looking pretty worse for the wear. Their wide roofs and tile shingles are immaculately kept, and the lawns tend to be well trimmed. Bushes line the sidewalk and it’s clear the people that live in this area take pride in their homes, but I can barely see any of that right now.

  My mind’s working a mile a minute. Chloe clearly just wants to let this go, just wants to move on her with her life, and I can’t blame her. The idea of pressing charges or getting involved with the police probably scares the hell out of her. Erik Pacific is untouchable right now.

  And yet I touched him. I hit him hard, right in his fucking smug face. I might pay for that, but right now, I’m still too angry to care.