“Ready!” Connor calls goodbye to me, and he and Kyle follow Smith onto the empty half-field behind where the second-team is practicing.
I watch them go, and the memory of yesterday when I located Donald Waverly for the first time hits me like a gut punch. Seeing his face, and myself in it, was so strange. I’m used to looking at my sons and seeing myself in them, but looking at a man who’s a complete stranger to me in every way and seeing a physical resemblance—it was disconcerting.
And I don’t know how to handle that.
I’m the only coach on this side of the field, and no player is within hearing shot of me. I reach for my phone and call Colton.
“Hey.” Colton’s greeting comes fast like he’s hurrying somewhere.
“Colt. You busy?”
“On my way out of the locker room. We just finished in the field, and I’m headed to the film room. What’s up?”
“It can wait if you’re in a hurry.”
I can practically feel him slow down his pace through the phone line.
“Now you’ve got me worried. What’s up, J?”
I stare across the field. My gaze travels from the players and coaches gathered on the other side, and it’s a moment before I can swallow through the tension in my throat enough to answer him.
“I found my biological father.”
“Shit.” Colton’s tone drops. “That’s huge.”
“Yeah.”
“How are you doing?”
“I’m…” I tell him the truth. “Freaked out. A lot more than I thought I would be.”
“Have you reached out to him?”
“No.” I briefly explain how I located him online. “Olivia thinks I should meet him. She would never say that to me directly because she wouldn’t want me to feel pressured in any way, but I can tell she thinks it would help me.”
“Maybe it would help both of you.”
I let his words sink in. “How come?”
“Because she’s kind of lived this alongside you your whole life, right? Maybe you need to find closure there of some kind—for you and for her.”
Christ. He’s right. “Thanks, Colt.”
* * *
When practice ends, I call Olivia and invite her to pizza with the boys and me. Dogs are allowed at the local pizzeria, and ours is more than happy to tag along with us.
Olivia arrives looking put-together like always with her shiny black hair up in a high ponytail, her blue eyes bright and clear. She’s dressed casually in a pink shirt that hugs her breasts, and black skinny jeans.
The dog nearly knocks her over the moment she arrives, and she immediately kneels down and pats him. Kyle and Connor rush to hug her, and then they grab “Doggie” by the leash and make a dash for an outdoor table. Olivia and I step into line to order.
“Is your hangover gone?” I ask her. “You look great.”
“Right,” she says. “I’m not convinced my hangover’s even fully kicked in yet. I should never have done those shots.”
I chuckle. “You guys wanted to do another round right before we left. I talked you out of it.”
“Thank God.”
