Something I hope will be the case for Audrey and me.
Damn. Did it just get hot in here?
“It’s going to be weird. As long as you acknowledge it, you’ll be fine. And at least you won’t have the whole town staring at you.”
“I guess we have that going for us.”
“Be thankful.” Nash points a finger at me. “What drinks do you want and I’ll get them started?”
“Two hot chocolates with Bailey’s, please.”
It’s Audrey’s favorite. And perfect for tonight.
“Wow. Drinking something other than the Clara? I didn’t know you could.”
“Don’t judge what I’m drinking. Maybe I’ll mix it up with the IPA later.”
“Sure.”
Nash grabs the ingredients and starts expertly mixing the cocktails when a hand comes down on my shoulder.
“Logan Winchester. As I live and breathe.”
“Coach Snider.” I wrap my arms around my old football coach. “It’s good to see you.”
“You’ve been back in town for almost two years and never stopped by to say hi?”
I scrub a hand over the back of my neck, nerves settling in.
Coach Snider was one of my biggest supporters. He was there for me at my first college game and again for my first game with the Mountain Lions.
When I got back to town, he was the last person I wanted to see. I felt like a failure. Like what happened to me was somehow my fault.
“Little preoccupied.” I pat my leg for good measure.
“I’m not buying that, but I’ll let it slide.” He pins me with a stare. His dark brown eyes hold a laugh that I’m thankful for. Even at his age, he still looks as young as ever. “How’s rehab going?”
“I’m hoping I’ll be ready to start playing in a few weeks.”
“Really?” He looks shocked.
When I tell most people that, they’re gung ho with excitement. Everyone loves a comeback story, right? I’m hoping mine will be the best one this town has ever seen.
“Scott says I’m on track. We’ll see.” I rap my knuckles on the wooden bar in front of me for good measure.
“Cut that superstitious shit. If you’re putting in the work, then it’ll show. And here I was thinking I might get you to stick around.”
“Stick around?” I lean back in my seat, staring at my old coach.
“I’ll be retiring at the end of this year.”
“What?” Surprise laces my voice. “You’re an institution. You’ve been at Dixon High since…well, forever.”
He claps me on the shoulder, waving down one of the bartenders for his own drink. “Wife is ready for it. Kids are grown with babies and we want to travel. There is more to life than football.”
“Really?” I laugh.
“You might not think it, but there truly is. I was hoping I could convince you to take my job.”
