Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Including your life.” Eric clapped me on the sore shoulder. “You’re going to have to think about what you truly want out of this situation.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll do the right thing.” I stared off at the mountains in the distance. “I’m not going to wreck a bunch of lives for the sake of my dick.”
Eric made a frustrated noise. “Is that all that’s involved?”
Uninvited, a carousel of images spun through my brain. Caleb lying back in the sun after skinny dipping in the creek, the biggest grin on his face. Caleb looking so tired and worn out the other night, and all I’d wanted to do was hold him. Caleb telling me my childhood wasn’t my fault and me actually believing him. Caleb dozing the night we’d had a sleepover. A thousand images and only a few sexual ones. Crap.
“It better be,” I said firmly as John came walking out of the doors that led to the locker rooms. “Here comes John. Let’s talk more later.”
Of course, if I had my way, later would be never because the fewer uncomfortable conversations I had to manage, the better. I saw the last players off, trying to shrug off any disappointment that Scotty left with Cosmo, not Caleb. I had to get used to not seeing him. After the field was clear, I hauled all the empty coolers back into the building and checked the equipment locker to see what sort of mess the players had left.
I had to grin because this part wasn’t unlike my fire station job—making sure everything was in its place, in good shape for tomorrow, and none of the safety features were compromised. And like with equipment inventory at the station, I actually enjoyed this part, straightening pads, checking footballs, inspecting helmets.
After the school year began, Coach Willard would recruit a student equipment manager, but for the time being, there was a certain satisfaction in the task. And speaking of Coach, he came into the locker room as I was finishing, leaning heavily on a shiny cane I knew better than to inquire about.
“Hey, Coach.” I left the equipment locker to steer him toward his office on the far wall, a glassed-in section of the locker room that might better be described as a cubicle, but at least it had a chair for Coach Willard. “How was the doctor’s visit?”
“Fine, fine.” He blustered the way I knew he would. He was short and stout and had seemed old to my teen self over twenty years ago. Now, he approached legendary status as he had to be well over seventy and continuing to coach. He’d retired from teaching history years ago, but his love for the game and the kids kept him returning year after year. “I appreciate you covering the practice for me. I told Beverly on our drive back how you’ve been a godsend this whole summer.”
I smiled at the reference to his retired English-teacher wife before waving away the praise. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I would.” He leaned back in his office chair with a loud creak. “I want to run something by you.”
“A new play?” I asked, pulling out my phone so I could jot a few notes for later.
“Ha. You’re better at those than me at this point.”
“No way.” I shook my head.
“Anyway, the fundraiser your sister organized brought in enough to finally start paying my assistants a stipend.”
“That’s great. I’m sure Stu and his family will appreciate that.”
“Yes, he’ll continue his work with the defensive line, but I’d like to bring you on as offensive coordinator and assistant coach.”
“Oh.” Pride that he’d think of me warred with a whole list of realities preventing an easy yes. “I’m not sure. I’m happy to help, but I’ve also got my fire academy classes and the last of my certifications coming up.”
“Is that really what you want to do with your second act?” Tilting his head to meet my gaze, Coach Willard peered deeply into my eyes. He’d always had the uncanny ability to see truths and secrets. He’d known far more about my home life than any other teacher, that was for sure, and now I wondered if he saw something I couldn’t.
“It’s always been the plan. I started training after high school, but then I left for the military. Getting back to the first-responder community always seemed like a good idea.”
“Sometimes plans change.” His tone was pragmatic with a sad edge. “Take me, for instance. I always figured they’d have to cart me off the field, but I’ve promised Beverly this is my last season coaching.”
I made a noise of protest. His health situation had been apparent all summer, yet I was no more eager to address it than he was. “But you’re a Mount Hope institution.”
“Eh, even institutions grow old and mossy.” He shrugged and then spread his meaty hands wide. “Nothing would make me prouder than you taking the reins.”