“With or without your permission, Coach, I am going back to Sweetwater.”
His gaze pops up to meet mine, and his short-lasting smile fades as soon as our eyes meet.
“I’m not joking. I’m going back. Not later. Now. And yeah, I know you might have to punish me, bench me for a few games, fine me. You can call my agent. And whatever Campbell thinks you need to tell the press, if anyone cares, I’ll agree to it. Maybe I have the measles. It’s going around now . . .”
Coach chuckles and rolls his eyes. He gets to his feet, walks around the bench the long way, then stops a few steps away from me.
“I meant what I said in that presser last night. It’s your attitude that’s going to make you elite in this game, Jayden. You’ve got the talent, but a lot of blowhards have talent. What you bring out here is a certain respect. It demands people give it back.”
“I understand,” I say, leaving this stadium before the game starts, regardless.
Coach nods.
“It’s why I’m going to give you a pass. This one time. Nobody needs to get a story, except for that guy out there. What did you call him?” He nudges his elbow toward Coach Bastion.
“Coach Woman Hater.”
Coach Shuster winces. “Yeah, that’s right. Well . . . anyhow, as far as he knows, you’re heading home to cool off. I pulled you from the start today because I don’t put up with outbursts on my field. Which will maybe make him think twice about throwing punches, too. Does that story work for you?”
I nod. “Yes, Coach. I’m on board with that.”
He grumbles through a heavy exhale and pulls a piece of gum from his back pocket, nearly putting it in his mouth still wrapped.
“I picked a bad week to quit the fucking tobacco,” he gripes.
I’m tempted to tell him that tobacco is bad for him, but I better quit while I’m ahead. Without a guarantee that Colby's job is in fact secure, I won’t have much to offer other than my promise to fight on her behalf, no matter what it takes. I head into the locker room and change out of my uniform while booking myself on the next flight to Oklahoma. I'm on my way home.
TWENTY-THREE
COLBY
I don’t know what to do with myself. I can’t even get myself to look up the stats from today’s game—the one I should have been at. And all I want in the world is some sage advice from my father. Only, I’m terrified to call him because I’m afraid he’ll be disappointed in me.
How nuts is that? I’m twenty-six years old and afraid my daddy will be angry that I kissed a boy.
Okay, it’s more than kissing a boy. And it’s Jayden. And I am so in love with him. And I’m also a little disappointed that my father told him not to pursue me, that he would ruin my life.
Look who’s ruining whose life now?
I pull apart the two pieces of stale white bread and dip my finger into the peanut butter I smoothed in between them, licking my fingertip clean. I haven’t eaten in more than a day, but even though my stomach keeps growling, my appetite can’t seem to kick into gear. Perhaps if I actually grocery shopped and had something other than dry bread and fat free peanut butter?
I toss my attempt at a meal in the trash, then return my attention to my phone. I open my text string with my dad and send him a quick note.
ME:Are you on the field?
It’s summer ball back home, and my dad runs a pretty popular program for incoming freshmen. If a young player has any hopes of making the team during the school year, they show up for summer ball.
My phone buzzes in my hand.
DAD:I got a minute. Call?
Hmm. I might need more than a minute. He takes the choice away, however, calling me about two seconds after texting.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I say when I answer.
“You’re not. I’ve got my seniors here today. They’re running drills. I put a twenty-spot on the cone at home plate. Nobody’s hit it with a throw yet.”
I chuckle, recalling the time my dad invited me and the softball team out my senior year and let us compete against the guys for his precious twenty. Actually, it was a ten-spot back then. Three of the softball players nailed it from centerfield, and my dad ended up coughing up thirty bucks.
