“They are,” I agree. “But listen, Jackson and I have this figured out. Okay? I’m a mess right now. I would add nothing to a relationship. But I can add to a friendship and that’s what I’m doing. I’m helping him get to where he deserves to be. You know your brother is built for so much more and has so much to give. I’m helping him do that. And right now? I’m happy to do it.”
She exhales loudly, throwing herself across the island again, in prime Britt drama. “Fine. You’re right. I just wish you guys could get your timing right.”
“What will be will be. You can’t push things that aren’t ready to line up.”
“Whatever. Be sensible. See if I care.” She rolls her eyes but has a grin across her face, teasing me because I never live on the edge, and puts her mug in the sink. “I’m going home to shower and will meet you at your moms. Farrah’s coming too. We’ll get to work on the festival together. It’s coming along quickly, we better get things moving.”
“I know. Mom’s been texting me all week with new ideas.” I stand too.” Okay girl, I’ll see you in a few.”
Britt leaves, and I stay stuck in the kitchen, replaying our conversation. Jackson deserves to be at the top. He deserves recognition and to spread his talent. This isn’t about me; it’s about getting him to where he wants to be. Friendship. It’s what I can give him. Nothing more.
Chapter 17
Jackson
Our season is shaping up to be a good one. After a few blowout scrimmages, we’re ready for our first league game. Tonight is our home opener and the entire town has come out.
I stopped at Francesca’s before heading to the field for warmups with the boys. She was decked out in the school’s infamous red and green colors. We are the Christmas Comets, after all, but what was on the back of her shirt had me stuttering and my heart skipping a beat. GAGES GIRL was written across her back and my number 5 was under it.
It made me long for the days I was in the NFL and wanted to see my name on her back. It made me want her in my jersey and nothing else, made me want her to be the one who was waiting for me in my hotel room after a game.
I couldn’t help myself. She turned around so I could read it and I snuck up on her quickly, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her flush against my body. I know she felt my hard on—I’m always semi hard around her. Her breath stalled and her eyes dilated as she turned to look at me over her shoulder.
I whispered in her ear that she looked beautiful, and I couldn’t wait to show her off tonight. She held my stare for a few moments. I leanedin and kissed her cheek, then reluctantly let her go. She slowly pulled away from me, our hands lingering in each other’s. She squeezed them, then let our hands drop, telling me she’d see me on the fifty-yard line and to have a good game. I had no choice but to get out of there before I lost all track of time and worshipped her like I should have done all those years ago.
Now I’m in the locker room with my boys, willing my boner to go down because wouldn’t that just be inappropriate? I hear them moving around. The hype music is on and there is laughter. Enjoyment. Excitement. Fun. It’s what I want for them. For my seniors, this is their last season. For my juniors, this is the start of scouts. I want it all for them. All the memories, all the lessons.
“Coach? Got a minute?”
I look up and see Jameson standing in the doorway. Dressed, holding his helmet, I motion for him to come in. “What’s going on, kid?”
“I just needed a minute,” he says. “Tonight feels bigger than it should be.”
I know what he’s getting at. This is the beginning of a new era and also the beginning of an ending of an era, for him. Even though he’s got two full seasons to go through before leaving for college, it’s a big change. I’ve seen it. Some kids just aren’t ready to leave the protective bubble. But Jameson is ready, whether or not he believes it.
“You’re ready, Jame,” I say, reiterating my thoughts. “I think out of everyone, you get it. You wouldn’t be in here with me if you didn’t. You’d be listening to the hype and worrying about where you’re going to party later.”
He grins. “Don’t get me wrong, I already know where the party is later, a big one at the old elementary school. Though I probably shouldn’t be telling you that.”
I roll my eyes. “Who do you think had the first party there many moons ago?” I tease. But I take this moment to give him a reminder I’ve been meaning to say to him. “Jameson, you’re good. And you’re going to make it. But you have to stay the course. I know you’re strong enough to do so. I just don’t want you getting swept up in the hype beforehand. Take me as your lesson, kid.” I love these kids. AndJameson is something special, I can’t wait to watch and see where he takes himself.
“Coach! I want to be you! You did everything right! You made it!”
I rise, shaking my head. “Yeah, I made it, but I didn’t stay there. Learn from my mistakes, Jame. Never stop working. Keep your circle small and close. Don’t trust everyone.” I’m repeating the words that Francesca’s dad threw at me all those years ago—if only I had listened. “Listen, one game at a time. Tonight, we take this one. Then we show up for practice tomorrow and start the work all over again, yeah?” I raise my brows.
“Yes, coach.”
“Let’s go. Let’s do this.” We push through the doors. The boys stop when I clap my hands. “Huddle up! Now!” I call out and they surround me as I jump onto one of the benches.
“It starts tonight. We are defending champs and every team we meet wants to take that title from us. But we’re not going to let them. We’re going to go out there, one game at a time, and reintroduce ourselves to each and every one of them. We’re going to show them no one comes into our house and robs us. No one takes what doesn’t belong to them! What we rightfully battled for! Now, are you ready to show that team, your town, and the State who we are?”
The barking erupts. They bang on the lockers, the floor and the benches. Anything to make a ruckus. I jump down into the middle of them, and we jump up and down to a beat of, “Who are we? Champs! Who are we? Champs!”
“Mindset. Heartset. 100 percent!” I yell our motto and they echo it back.
“Now get out onto that field and fight!”
The team goes running from the locker room and roars onto the field. My assistant coaches trail behind them, myself bringing up the rear, jogging out, touching the top of the door as I go— as tradition states I should—running my fingers along the bottom of the state banner we have draped across the wall.
