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I offer her a tight smile that’s all business because even I’m not dumb enough to get caught up with my assistant, and I’m glad to have someone on my side who knows what it’s like dealing with someone in this position.
I may need her more than I realize.
Jack and I enter the rather large office that looks empty and ready for me since it was recently evacuated by someone who had been in here a long time. It’s been freshly scrubbed and the walls have been painted, and all that remains in here from the previous coach is the furniture. A desk for me to sit at and two chairs pointed at it—presumably for a player and his agent. Behind the desk, rows and rows of empty bookcases ready for me to fill with a credenza in the middle. A round table in the corner with five chairs for larger meetings or working lunches. A whiteboard to draft plays on, and a large television mounted to the wall across from the desk to watch film. A couch for visitors—or for sleeping since I’ll probably spend more time here than home during the season.
“We’ll get you all set up in the next couple days, Coach,” Jack says. “I have a meeting in my office in a few minutes, but you’ve got my number if you need anything. We’ll break the news tomorrow evening, but you can swing by tomorrow morning at nine to meet with human resources, and I’ll have your laptop and tablet ready for you then.”
“Thanks, Jack,” I say.
He leaves me alone to take it all in, and I slide into the executive chair behind my new desk.
It all feels a bit surreal.
I draw in a deep breath, and it’s like I’m breathing new air.
I’m the head fucking coach of the Vegas Aces.
I can’t believe it.
I take a moment to myself. The news will break tomorrow, which means I should call my family today so they hear it from me and not the media.
To that end, I dial up my father.
“Hello,” he answers gruffly.
“Hey Pops. What’s going on?”
“You called me,” he points out. “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing much. Just calling you from my new office.” I can’t hide the merriment in my tone.
“Your new office?” he repeats.
“The office of the head coach of the Vegas Aces.”
“Well I’ll be damned. You’re serious?” he asks.
“I am.” I can’t help my grin.
“Congratulations, son. That’s incredible news. Missy!” he yells to my mother, and I hear him say, “It’s Lincoln and he has something to tell you.”
“Linc?” my mom asks, her voice loud and clear on the line.
“Hey, Mom. I just accepted the head coaching position for the Vegas Aces.”
“Oh my gosh, that’s incredible! I’m so proud of you, honey. Congratulations!”
I’m so proud of you.
It’s what I wanted to hear from my dad.
Instead, I got that’s incredible news.
My father has never told me he’s proud of me no matter how hard I’ve worked for it. I heard him say it to Spencer when he earned his Master’s degree while playing pro football. I heard him say it to Grayson when he was a first-round draft pick chosen a few spots earlier than I was in my own draft. I heard him say it to Asher when he flipped in the air over a defender to score a winning touchdown.
But I’ve never heard the words directed at me.
And honestly…I don’t know if he ever will.
