Ignite (Cloverleigh Farms #6)(67)

Back at home, I stopped in the kitchen for a glass of water. As I drank it, I thought about Winnie being abandoned by her mom so young, about my daughters being shuttled back and forth between their parents, about my own youth spent watching my dad be a husband and father only when he felt like it.

Fuck, did anyone survive childhood without wounds?

Upstairs, I crawled back into bed and caught the scent of Winnie’s coconut shampoo. Turning onto my side, I grabbed the pillow she’d used and buried my face in it, inhaling deeply. My entire body warmed, and I wished she was still next to me.

But part of me knew it was a good thing she wasn’t.

I didn’t want to get used to her. She wasn’t mine to protect.





The following day, while I was driving home from the grocery store, I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize. I let it go to voicemail and listened to the message once I pulled into the garage.

“Hey Dex, this is Tyler Shaw. I wanted to reach out to you because Chip mentioned that you might be looking for an extra gig, and I could use another conditioning coach at Bayside Sports. It’s mostly baseball training for high school kids in the off-season, but I think a lot of these guys would think it was pretty badass to be coached by a Navy SEAL, and who knows? Maybe you’d find the Navy some new recruits. Anyway, give me a call if you’re interested. Thanks.”

I dialed him back right away. The job sounded great—I enjoyed physical training, and it would be cool to work with high school kids. The extra income would be welcome too.

And the distraction from Winnie.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Coach.”

Tyler laughed. “Matthews, I haven’t been your coach in what, sixteen years?”

I grinned. “Doesn’t matter. You’re still Coach to me.”

“You get my message?”

“I did, and I’m really interested, but I’m not certified or anything.”

“That’s okay. You’ll be covered by the facility’s insurance policy, and I’m just looking for someone that can work on endurance, strength, and mental mettle. I remember that being your superpower as a baseball player, and I figure you probably got a lot of that in your SEAL training.”

“Uh. Yeah.” I shook my head at the memories of grinder PT. “I can put them through hell if you want.”

He laughed. “Just put their attitudes in check and make them better athletes.”

“I think I can do that. My only hesitation is my availability.” I told him about my twenty-four-hours on, seventy-two-hours off schedule at the station. “I have my daughters during those seventy-two hours off every other week, so the days are always shifting around. But I wouldn’t be able to coach while I had them.”

“Understood. Why don’t you come over here on your next day off and look around, see the facility, the equipment and all that, and we can talk about getting some sessions on the books that work for you?”

I glanced at the time. “I’m off today if you’re going to be there for a bit.”

“I’m here until five o’clock. Come any time you like.”





After wolfing down a sandwich for lunch, I headed over to Bayside Sports, a huge complex just outside of town. The guy at the desk directed me to Tyler’s office, and I knocked on the open door.

He looked up from his desk and smiled as he rose to his feet. “Hey, Dex.”

“Hey, Coach. Nice place here.”

“Thanks.” He came around the desk and shook my hand. “Let’s have a look around.”

He gave me a tour of both the indoor and outdoor facilities, and I was thoroughly impressed with the size, the amount of equipment, and the quality of the machines. We talked about the kind of sessions I might do, how we could schedule them, where they’d fit into an athlete’s overall training regimen. He asked if I’d be interested in doing private fitness coaching since he fielded quite a few inquiries from parents looking to give their kids a leg up on the competition, what I’d charge for both group and private sessions, and what my schedule was like through the fall and winter. I told him I was up for helping out wherever I was needed, as long as he could work with my availability.

We went back to his office, where I filled out some paperwork and gave him my schedule for September and October.

“This is totally workable,” he said. “I’m going to put a few group sessions on the website for September, and send out an email that we’ve got a new trainer—a firefighter and ex-Navy SEAL—but his time is limited so if you want to get in, you have to act fast. I’m positive they’ll be full in a week.”

“Sounds good.” While he typed something on his computer, I glanced around his office. He had a lot of photos and memorabilia from his MLB days, but also pictures of his family. I recognized his wife April—Chip’s birth mom—and their two younger kids. He also had a big picture of Chip framed on the wall—standing on the mound, looking fierce and ready for battle. It looked like it had been taken in the early days of Chip’s Major League career, and I could easily see the resemblance between father and son.

It made me think of my own father. What did he look like now? Was he still tall and wiry? Did he still have dark hair? Mean eyes? Were his knuckles still scarred?