Old Fashioned - Becker Brothers

I stood abruptly, dropping my clipboard on my desk as I rounded it. “Mrs. Kelly, I apologize. I’m afraid I didn’t see you there,” I said, reaching out my hand for hers as she stood, too. She wore modest black leggings and a loose-fitting polo in our school’s shade of red, but I realized in the moment that she could have been wearing a potato sack and she would still be a complete knockout.

I kept my eyes trained on hers to avoid the length of her toned arms, or the way her hips filled out those leggings, knowing full well that I’d be the only one on this team capable of doing so.

“Coach Becker,” I said with my hand still extended. “Welcome to the team.”

“No need to apologize, Jordan,” she said my name with a smirk that set my nerves at attention, her eyes playful. “I’m glad to see you work just as hard as you did in high school. I don’t think I’d ever seen that kind of focus before my first group project with you our junior year.”

I chuckled as her soft hand slipped into mine, but she shook it firmly.

“And it’s Sydney Clark, now,” she added, her smile faltering before she snapped it back into place.

Clark.

Her maiden name.

Embarrassment flittered through me, along with a recognition. I couldn’t believe I’d let her married name slip, especially after the scandal that was her divorce with Police Chief Randy Kelly. But, they’d dated ever since I’d known them — in high school and beyond. It was difficult to separate one from the other, anymore.

“Of course,” I said, shaking my head as we released our grips. I slid my hands into my pockets, changing the subject away from her recent name change. “I didn’t expect you so early.”

“An hour before practice?” she asked, quirking one eyebrow. “I’d say that’s more punctual than early. I figured you’d want to show me my office, let me get my table and supplies set up.” She tapped the large duffle bag hanging off her shoulder.

“I guess I’m just used to the rest of my staff who like to roll up here ten minutes before the team starts showing up.”

She smiled. “Well, then, let’s just say I’m not like the rest of your staff.”

You can say that again.

I motioned toward the hallway, guiding her out of my office and past the rows of lockers to the athletic training station. Once I flicked on the light, I stood at the entrance with my hands in my pockets. “We got a pretty decent amount of money from the boosters last year,” I explained as Sydney dropped her duffle bag on the examination table, looking around her new space. “So, lucky for you, you’re walking into an upgraded version of the mess that was here before.” I pointed. “New ice bath, new whirlpool, extra storage, nice table for soft tissue work. We even got those fancy boot things.”

“NormaTecs,” she mused, crossing her arms as her eyebrows crept up. She eyed me with a smirk. “I didn’t realize I was working for a team of professional athletes.”

I grabbed the back of my neck with a shrug. “What can I say? When you win two state championships, you get a lot of money thrown your way. We had all new pads, new jerseys, new staff gear, end zone cameras, new iPads and screens for reviewing tapes. I was running out of ways to spend it.”

She chuckled. “You poor thing.”

I wanted to smile, too, but I was still rubbing my neck, staring at what I knew would be the source of every headache I’d have in the next few months.

“Sydney, listen,” I said on a sigh, letting my hand fall. “I don’t know how else to say this but to be frank with you.”

Her smile fell, expression flattening as she straightened her spine.

“I’m worried about you being our athletic trainer.”

Her eyebrows dipped, lips pursing. “Let me guess — because I’m a woman?”

“No,” I said quickly, but then I rolled my lips together. “Well, honestly? Kind of.” I held up my hands when she rolled her eyes. “But not because I don’t think you’re capable. It’s just that… we’re dealing with teenage boys here. They’re rowdy, and — God help us — dominated by hormones that they can’t control yet.”

Sydney folded her arms over her chest, listening, her expression unreadable.

“I’m just saying,” I continued. “There’s a lot riding on this season. We’ve won two state championships in a row, and we have a lot of eyes on us.”

“Meaning, you have a lot of eyes on you.”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

“And you think I’ll be a distraction.”

“Honestly? I know you will be.”

Sydney smiled, shaking her head and looking around her new office before she took two purposeful steps toward me. “I understand your concern, but here’s my side of things.”