Focusing on the team keeps me grounded. Focusing on Molly keeps me sane. Ignore the stares, white knuckle through the day. Just get through it.
But it doesn't matter anymore--we made it. When I blow the whistle around my neck in a few seconds, I'm off for eleven days.
I hope we don't leave the house once.
Things I never thought I'd say.
I blow my whistle, and the fucking angels sing a hallelujah chorus.
The guys come in from the field, chattering and excited about spring break, packing up equipment. Most are fine, normal, but a few have been awkward with me, and I wonder what they've heard, if their parents are talking--
Not my problem. I'm off the clock.
I give the shortest talk possible, tell them to stay out of trouble over the break. And then they begin to disperse, some heading for their cars, others for their parents.
Marc, one of my assistants approaches, and instantly I know something's up.
"Hey, Brooks--good practice."
"They're looking good. Hopefully they don't come back from break trashed."
He chuckles. "Well, you'll whip them back into shape. I, uh--I wanted to talk to you. I've heard the stuff people are saying--"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"No, no--I just wanted to tell you I think it's bullshit. Molly's an adult, and neither of y'all have done anything wrong. People need to mind their own fucking business. Courtney thinks so too. We're pissed for y'all. And I thought maybe you might want to know that not everybody is talking shit. Some of us are out there defending you."
I'm shocked. Relieved. Something in my chest untwists. "Thanks, man. That means a lot."
He nods, smiles. "Hang in there. It'll blow over."
I hope he's right as I turn back to my bag to finish packing up.
See? Not everybody's against us. Some people get it. We just have to survive. Maybe spring break will be the cool down we need.
I grab my duffel, keys in hand, thinking of Molly. I wonder what she's making for dinner? Maybe I'll get stuff to make lemon drops for her. We can celebrate making it through the week. Because we fucking made it--
"Coach Brooks?"
Goddammit, I was so close to my truck too. I turn to find one of my players' dads. Price. Older guy, stern face.
Real stern.
I was so close.
"Got a minute?" he asks.
I almost say no. But I can't. "Sure. What can I do for you."
"I heard about you and that librarian."
My jaw clenches. "What about it?"
"People are saying a lot of things--"
"People are liars."
His eyes narrow. "They're starting to say you don't have any business being around kids."
