Page 83 of Over Time Advantage

“You bet your fucking ass I would, you pencil-pushing fuckwit. You hide behind your money and your desk. You don’t have the first fucking clue what it takes to win a Super Bowl.” I press my finger to my chest. “I do. I’ve done it. I’ve done it for the Camels as a player, and I’ll do it again as a coach, but only with Vance McCaffrey as my quarterback. I will not coach this team with anyone else at the helm.”

He takes a few long breaths like he’s calming himself down. “I’ll tell you what, Coach. I’ll quash the trade. You can keep McCaffrey, but if you don’t win it all this year, you’re both out.”

I plop down in my chair, completely flabbergasted by the disloyalty of the organization I’ve called home for twenty years, both as a player and as a coach.

I clench my jaw. “Just so I’m clear, there are only two options? We trade Vance, and I keep my job no matter what; or we keep Vance, and if we don’t win a Super Bowl, you’ll fire me and trade him?”

He nods. “Yes. There are only two options here. In the first scenario, you’re guaranteed job security. In the second, you’re likely gone at the end of this season.” He smiles like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like he didn’t just tilt my world off axis.

I stare at him. “If we win, we’re both safe, right? He’ll play here until he chooses to retire?”

“I suppose.”

“Do I have your word on that?” I wince. “Actually, will you put that in writing? Your word means shit to me.”

He scoffs. “You can’t seriously be considering keeping him. You’ll lose your job.”

“Only if we lose. If we win, we both keep our jobs.”

He rolls his eyes. “Correct, but that’s a long shot with our current defense, and you know it.”

I hold out my hand for him to shake. “You’ve got yourself a deal. McCaffrey stays, we win it all, and he retires a Camel whenever the fuck he feels like it.”

“Jett—”

“You told me I have two options,” I bark at him. “I’m taking option two.”

I can’t believe he thought I’d save my own ass at Vance’s expense. Only a bottom dweller like him would do that.

He reluctantly shakes my hand. “Fine. You’re committing career suicide, but it’s your decision to make.”

“Yes, it is. Now get the fuck out of my office and let me do my job.”

Despite the unseasonably cold late spring night, I’m sitting at the outdoor dining table in my backyard, my happy place, with a freshly opened bottle of Cabernet, as I try to absorb the magnitude of what was said to me tonight.

Over twenty years of my life devoted to an organization that’s willing to cast me aside without a second thought. The sacrifices I’ve made for them. My marriage. My children. My happiness. And it’s not like we’ve had any losing seasons. We just haven’t won the big game during my tenure as coach.

Despite how I’m being treated, I can’t seem to focus on anyone other than Vance. He’s given everything of himself. Everything that has been asked of him. He doesn’t deserve to be treated like this. He has so much more to lose than I do.

I look over the terms of the contract Baron just sent to me on my iPad. He spelled it out clear as day. Win, or I’m gone. Win, or Vance is traded. He also sent a note reminding me conversations with him are confidential under the terms of my contract. In other words, Vance isn’t allowed to know anything. I can’t believe it’s come to this.

I take a sip of wine and let it slide down my throat, taking the edge off slightly but not nearly enough. My shoulders are so tight. I feel like they’re practically in my ears.

As if the universe knows exactly what I need, I hear the sliding glass doors open. Turning toward them, I see Fallon step outside. She smiles, and I swear my heart skips a beat. “There you are. I was looking for you.” She shivers in her loose-fitting, adorable Beavers sweatpants and sweatshirt. “It’s so cold tonight.”

I open my arms in invitation. “I’ll keep you warm. Come here, angel face. Sit on my lap and tell me about your day.”

She raises an amused eyebrow. “Your lap? Should I call you Daddy while I do so?”

I briefly squeeze my eyes shut at those words leaving her lips. “Only if you want me to blow my load in under a minute,” I honestly answer.

She giggles as she walks toward me and gingerly sits across my lap, as if she could ever hurt me. I wrap my arms around her and softly kiss her lips. I can physically feel the stress from moments ago exiting my body.

She smiles as she whispers against my mouth, “Hi, Daddy Jett. What ails you?”

She screeches as I immediately harden under her. “I told you what would happen if you called me that.”

She brushes her lips over mine and teases, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.”