They laugh.
“No. You’re Coach,” Eli says.
“I’m sorry if you ever faced that cold, defensive exterior,” I tell them.
“We didn’t,” the three of them say together.
“You might not remember this, but my first year here, my grandma died,” Peyton continues. “You got the call during a game. You accepted a call during a game which youneverdo because you knew that my grandma was super sick. You stopped the game to pull me out, take me away from everyone else, and tell me. You hugged me because I was falling apart, and thensent me home and told me not to worry about football. My spot would be here when I got back, no matter how long that took, and you’d make sure I caught up. You called me every single day to check in and see how I was. And when I got back, you worked with me one on one for a week to get me back to where I needed to be to catch up with the team’s progress. You didn’t bench me, but put me right back in the game.”
Peyton looks at me and I don’t miss the way his eyes look a little glassy. Idoremember that. I remember a lot about my kids, even from years past. Peyton was devastated when he told me his grandma was dying just a few weeks before that, so I’d been ready to do what I needed to do. I watched him closely because I knew how much it was hurting him.
“Just so you know, that’s probably why I have such a crush on you,” he admits, giving me a bemused smile. “You’re everything I ever imagined the perfect person being. The way you treated me”—he shakes his head—“it truly meant everything. It still does.”
Because my hands are covered in potato, I elbow him.
“Last year when I was wrecked because my sixteen-year-old cat died,” Winston adds, “you didn’t tell me to get over it. It’s just a cat. Like any other coach would have. Like I’d seen coaches do in the past to my teammates when one of their pets died. You mourned with me.”
“And fuck, remember when you helped me get ready for my first date?” Eli asks. “I was so damn nervous. But you walked me through my nerves and gave me some pointers on how to be a gentleman. The date sucked because we didn’t click, but I rocked it.”
“So you think,” Winston says.
I grin.
“You’ve always been there for us,” Peyton promises. “I’m really glad that you finally found someone to make you smile like that.”
“Even if it’s not you,” Winston teases.
Peyton huffs. “I regret my choices in friends.”
I laugh. “Thank you,” I say and, of course, my gaze is drawn to Hansley. He looks like he’s doing what I’m doing—chopping. I smile. “I am happy.” Which is absolutely terrifying.
“He’s a cool guy,” Eli says. “He helped me find a sponsor for some of the food today.”
“Ugh, and that party he organized for us!” Peyton adds. “He’s a keeper.”
It’s difficult not to grin like a madman.
“I’m bummed we didn’t win,” Winston says. “There’s a strange feeling that we let them down after all that work they put into celebrating us and wishing us well.”
“Nah, don’t be. I’ve been assured time and time again that the entire department was excited to put it together.” I’m going to choose to believe it because I totally understand where he’s coming from.
It turns out that I have a lot of fun with the boys and cutting shit up. They even trust me to monitor the vegetables and, while I’m not necessarily convinced that they’re as perfect as they claim, they eat a lot. Many others comment on them too. So they were edible, anyway.
We don’t win. The women’s hockey team wins, and I can hear them gloating from near the back.
Break down is a lot quicker than I anticipated, and then I’m waiting for Hansley while talking to people as they stop by. I’m surprised by how many compliments we get on our food. Okay, not surprised, because it was damn good. Just… surprised that they’re telling me like I had a part in cooking it.
Finally, Hansley’s there. His hands on my neck and his mouth on mine. The way he takes my breath should be criminal. “Your food was fucking epic,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “I didn’t cook it at all.”
He hums and I swear, he’s going to eat my tongue by the way he’s sucking on it. I can feel that suction on my balls.
“I need to help out a while longer,” he tells me. “Go home and I’ll talk to you in a bit. Promise.”
“You have a lot to do tonight?” I ask, bummed that he’s not coming with me. I glance around and… yeah, there’s a lot of shit out and everywhere.
“We need to get everything from each company into distinct piles that are clearly marked so they can stop in tomorrow during the day and pick it up.”
