Kacen is one of the last to arrive, and rather than take one of the foil-wrapped burritos, he steps up to Savannah and gives her a soft smile. “You’re awesome for doing this, Sav.”
At this point, she doesn’t need my strength for anything, and I agree with Savannah that I should keep my distance from the Shafer boys. But my body seems frozen in place the instant she smiles back at the boy.
It’s not a romantic smile. That would be way out of order. But her smile is warm and natural, something she’s never given me. Not once. Why has she never smiled at me like that?
Probably because you haven’t given her a reason to, you drongo.
“You’re the one who made it happen,” she says, flicking Kacen’s shoulder pad and grinning. “Don’t tell your mom, but I’m bringing you and Blaze some high-protein brownies on Saturday.”
“Are you a scout?”
It takes me a second to realize that Kacen askedmethat question, and panic floods my system. I promised I wouldn’t talk to him, but he’s looking right at me, waiting for a response. Glancing at Savannah, I lift an eyebrow.
She sighs and nods, giving me permission with a healthy dose of warning in her gaze.
Turning back to Kacen, I stuff my hands into my pockets and tilt my head. “Er, scout?”
“Yeah. You know, for colleges?”
With the way he’s looking at me with a hopeful gleam in his eyes, he’s not going to like my answer. “No.”
Kacen narrows his eyes. “Then who are you?”
Whether I’m speaking the truth, I reply the only way I can. “Friend of Savannah’s.”
The kid’s eyes jump to her, and she shrugs, which doesn’t clue me in to her real feelings about me. “Cool,” he says and reaches into the box to grab a burrito. Then his focus returns to Savannah. “You’re really bringing brownies?”
Much as I’d like to keep listening to them, some shouts on the pitch pull my attention toward a few of the boys having what looks like a heated conversation. No, not a conversation. As I watch, two of the boys tower over a third, firing taunts at him and laughing. When one of them pushes the third boy in the chest, I look for the coaches.
They’re all chewing the fat instead of paying attention totheir player being bullied and too far for me to say something without the rest of the team hearing me. That would likely make the situation worse.
Cursing under my breath, I set the box on the ground and am about to tell Savannah about the skirmish, as if she might be able to do something, when one of the bullies shoves again, this time pushing hard enough to knock the boy onto his back.
And I’m on the move.
“Hey,” I growl when I get closer, and the two bullies jump, backing up. As soon as they get a good look at me, they scurry away, leaving the third boy lying on the pitch. It’s only now that I realize it’s my half-brother, Blaze, and I freeze. I’m not supposed to talk to him either.
But the kid looks like he just had the worst practice of his life even before his teammates ganged up on him, and I can’t just walk away.
“You good, mate?” I ask, holding a hand out to him.
Glancing to where his coaches are still absorbed in their own conversation, he wrinkles his nose and makes no move to take my outstretched hand. “Fine,” he grumbles.
“You don’t have to take that, you know.” I jerk my head in the direction his teammates went. “What were they saying to you?”
Blaze scoffs. “That I’m only on the team because of my brother. And they’re right.”
“Nah. You have a solid arm.”
Blinking, he looks up at me and seems to take me in for the first time, spots of red coloring his face the longer he examines me. “I’m not like my brother. He’s team captain, and I can’t even pass the ball. No matter how hard I try,” he adds in a mumble.
I won’t tell him he has his brother’s obvious skill when that would be a lie, but in the few minutes I watched him during the drill, I could tell he’s put in work. He’s not talentless. Still, I know how it feels to get stuck and struggle to keep fighting.Ishe trying, or has he struggled for so long that he’s given up? I’ve seen that exhausted look in his eyes before. It can be hard to keep climbing when the wall seems to never end.
Shifting my hand closer, I wait until he grabs it, then haul him to his feet, glad that I didn’t accidentally offer my injured arm. “You’re tense,” I tell him. “Stuck in your head. Loosen up, trust your instincts, and let your body do what you’ve trained it to do without worrying about whether you’re getting it perfectly right. Give your teammates a real reason to be threatened by you, yeah?”
He swallows, glancing at the rest of his team. “Are you a new coach or something?”
I chuckle. Coach? If my interactions with Bean are any indication, coaching is the last thing I should do with my life. “No. I’m here with Savannah.”
