He cleared his throat. “Um, Flash? Coach Deacon? This is my friend Jenna. Jenna, this is—”
“I know who this is.” She rattled off some of Deacon’s stats, then started on Mitch’s.
He had to admit, he was impressed. “Wow. Jenna, I think you know more about football than my brother,” he teased.
Deacon punched him in the arm, hard enough to hurt. Mitch would make sure to return the favor.
“We have to go,” Deacon said, “Nice meeting you, Jenna. Great game, guys. See you at practice on Monday.”
Simon nodded, looking happier than he’d been. The two boys she’d been talking with melted away, and Simon escorted the girl toward his mother and Nora.
“What the hell was that about?” Deacon grumbled.
“Weirdness.”
“Huh?”
Mitch shook his head. “Don’t ask.”
“Fine. Then let’s talk about your big mouth instead.”
Not exactly a better deal.
******
The next night, Mitch wondered if he’d done the wrong thing by inviting Becca to his home. He’d ordered some amazing food, not even trying to convince anyone he could cook. He’d intended to grill steaks, but the weather wasn’t cooperating. It had turned downright miserable. Cold rain couldn’t decide if it wanted to be sleet or snow, and it showed no sign of stopping.
Gray skies overhead promised more of the same, as did the weather report for the remainder of the weekend. Getting to the playoffs was terrific. But having to play in the cold sucked.
“You’re going to pace a hole in your floor,” Deacon said, kicked back in the living room, nursing a beer. “Relax. We’ll have a nice meal. You can show off to the pretty mom, and we’re done.”
“What is with you constantly bringing up that Becca’s a mom? I know that.”
Deacon sighed. “Do you really? Because I’ve been working in this town for five years. And it was a real adjustment, let me tell you. The requests for autographs fade, as do women throwing themselves at you left and right. The people here are regular family types. Hooking up with Simon’s mom impacts more than just your love life, genius.”
That stung. “You think I’d screw over Becca and her kid? I like Simon.”
“I do too.” Deacon drew on his beer. “And I like Becca, from the few instances I’ve talked to her. But I love you, you moron. I think Hope’s Turn could be just what you need—if you don’t screw things up before you even settle in. There’s something about this town that’s good. Decent. People look out for one another. It’s not so small you know everybody’s business all the time, but not so big people don’t help each other out.” Deacon paused. “My marriage to Rhonda was a mistake.”
“No shit.”
Deacon sighed. “I was at a really low point when Roy told me about the pub. It saved my life, man.”
“I know.” Mitch joined him on the couch, sitting across from him on the sectional. “I wanted to help you, but I knew seeing me while I was still playing would hurt.”
Deacon nodded. “Not being the star quarterback hurt. It wasn’t about the fame, bro. I fucking love the game.”
“Me too.”
“But all that other stuff got old.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t mind the idea of having a tidy nest egg after retirement, but getting through all the shit to find myself after my injury and Rhonda’s bitchiness took its toll.” Deacon studied Mitch. “But I’m good. It’s you I’m worried about.”
“Me?” Mitch sipped his beer. “I’m fine. No evil ex-wife. No injuries. A clean retirement, and I never have to work again if I don’t want to.”
“And?”
