Coach's Pick

By Ashlyn Fables

Fed up with Coach Durand's constant mistreatment of her, Emery demands he lay off his high expectations. But when she finds her overexertion has left her in desperate need of physical attention, Coach finds a way to make it up for his past mistakes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fabled Passages
• Release date: Jan 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223457619

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

EMERY

Come on, ladies! Cross the field. Let me see that dribble! Coach Durand shouts.

We’re nearing the end of an exhausting practice, and every muscle in my body wants to give up. But that’s not an option for me. Not with my scholarship.

Of course Fiona Kirkpatrick glides across the field, her ball never wandering from its intended path. Hailey is right behind her. Ashley would be farther up ahead, but she decided to put a few fancy spins into her maneuvers. Show off.

I’m third from last, which is pretty standard for me.

Once upon a time, I always finished first, and every game I played in, I scored a handful of shots.

That was before attending Pineworth College.

Sinclair! Ashford! Let me see that hustle! Coach shouts.

I circle the cone, then dribble back to my starting position, working hard to stay in front of the two girls behind me, because these things matter to Coach.

Why did I think this would be like high school, where the coaches were firm, but kind? Coach Durand hates me, and I’m not even the worst player on the team. He’s always insulting me, acting like I’m either lazy or too stupid to know basic moves.

Fiona, on the other hand, can do no wrong.

Towards the end, I push myself and gain a position, making me fourth from last, and although I’m well aware that’s a far cry from first, at least it shows I’m trying.

Coach toys with his whistle until the last girl makes it across the line.

Alright, ladies—we’ll meet back here tomorrow.

As we race back to the locker room, Coach Durand shouts out, Carmichael—give me five!

I stop in my tracks, confused.

See ya back at the dorms, Hailey calls over her shoulder. We share a suite and often stay up late watching cheesy rom-coms.

When I fail to move, Coach shouts, Did you hear me, Carmichael?

Y-yes, sir! I stutter out.

Then hit the pavement!

Five laps might not seem like a lot, but my body is weary from drills, and my legs feel like rubber.

Still, I obey, because part of the reason I’m able to attend college is because of my soccer scholarship, and I don’t want to do anything to compromise it.

The first lap flies by, because I got a second wind, or more like a fifth with how hard I’ve been practicing. Two, three, and four are excruciating, and when I go into my fifth lap, I’m halfway worried I might faint.

Fuck Coach. It’s not like I’m the worst player on the roster. Tessa is liable to help the other team before she helps her own, but I’m the one out here racing around the track? It’s bullshit.

As I round the last corner leading to the finish line, I breathe out a sigh of relief. After this, I can shower and drag my sorry ass back to the dorms. I just have to finish strong.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Coach watching from the side, arms folded over his chest.

Does he think I’m going to lie about finishing? Does he really have so little trust in me? And what kind of man would rather torture their players than actually go out and live their life? He could be out playing the field, but no, he’d rather watch me hit the pavement.

He’s handsome enough, with tousled brown hair and healthy stubble that outlines his chiseled jawline. I have to admit, before I found out what an ass he was, my mind often wandered during practice to his fit, athletic body. I’m not the only one, either. The girls talk openly about Coach, and what they’d do to him if he’d give them the chance.

The others can like him all they want. Never again will I allow his washboard abs to invade my dreams. Not when he singles me out and constantly makes me work harder than every other fucking person on the team.

I finish the five laps with a sprint, immediately regretting it when my calf cramps.

I can’t keep going like this. Pushing myself for a man that cares so little about how his words affect me.

And because I’ve literally reached the end of my rope, I’m going to tell him that.

CHAPTER 2

COACH DURAND

If the girls don’t shape up, and soon, we won’t make it far into the season.

Too much rides on Fiona, and Hailey needs to step outside her shadow. Ashley would be a damn fine player if she didn’t show off so much.

And then there’s Emery Carmichael. A big-shot player from a small town.

I run her hard, because I see how much potential she has, but nothing I do seems to bring her to the next level, and I know that given the right instruction, she’d outshine just about everyone. Her long legs were made to dance across the field, and don’t get me started on those muscular thighs of hers. They’d make great ear warmers.

I press the palm of my hand into my forehead,