“I don’t care what you have on.” She waved my outfit off before I could make the point. “And I don’t care how many people jump when you clear your throat, you arenotabout to talk to my son like he’s an intern or something.”
Behind me, Tre made a sound that started as a cough and quit halfway.
She stepped closer. "You have my child out here crying like he just got jumped!”
“It’s football,” I said evenly. “Contact sport. I push them because?—”
“And I’m a contact mama.” She closed the last of the distance, close enough now that I caught her perfume. “You push my kid, Julian? I push back.”
The field went dead quiet. Even the kids stopped pretending to run drills.
"Micah's a good kid," I said, keeping my tone steady. "Football's gonna knock ‘em down. I want them to know how to stand back up. I push because I want them to be strong."
“You’re running these kids like they’re in boot camp,” she snapped. “They’re not soldiers. This is supposed to be fun.”
I met her eyes, unblinking. “Disciplineisfun. It teaches them commitment. Consistency. Structure. Things they’ll need in life.”
She sucked her teeth. “Structure is fine, but where’s the nurture? The t-l-c? He’s upset and you’re barking at him like he's a grown man with a job!”
I should've been irritated. Instead, I caught myself noticing the fire in her eyes. She was standing there furious and fine, chest going fast, that haircut framing a face that didn’t have a single flaw, and the disciplined part of me had quietly clocked out and gone to stare at her mouth. I absentmindedly licked my own lips, then blinked and shut it down. Hard. She was Raschad’s sister. Raschad was about to be my brother-in-law. So that’d make her my… what? Sister-in-law? No. Family adjacent? I shook my head slightly trying to rid it of uninvited thoughts.
I heard my brothers behind me. Tre whispering to Zion: "You see this?"
I caught a laugh deep in my throat, and she saw the half-smile I tried to swallow. She squinted at me. “You think this isfunny, Julian?"
“No.” I cleared my throat and put it away. “I think you came out here for a fight. And I’m not gonna give you one.”
That stopped her. I took a breath in and out, and nodded once. “I respect how you feel. And I'll do better.”
She blinked, like she hadn't expected me to give her anything. Her shoulders dropped an inch, though her stance stayed ready. Then she started pressing her lips together, rubbing them against each other, quick and nervous. A tic, almost. "He's seven. It’s… been just him and me for a while. So, I'm gonna be loud about protecting him."
"I can respect that."
She looked at me then she dipped down and ran a hand over Micah’s afro. “You good, baby?”
He gave her a thumbs-up, then looked at me. “Can I go back in, Coach Julian?”
“Go ahead. Helmet back on.” I patted his shoulder and turned to face her, and her expression was softer.
“Don’t break him.”
I held her eyes so she’d know I wasn’t just handling her. “I won’t. You have my word.”
She gave me one short nod, turned around, and walked back toward the bleachers. I stood there frozen, watching her the whole way.
Tre slid into the space she left, delighted. “Can’t even lie, Jules. Raschad’s sister fine ashell. But you keep staring at her like that, you gonna set the woman on fire.”
I put my eyes back on the field. “Shut up, Tre.”
Zion came around and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Braver man than me. She was about to fillet you right here on the fifty.”
“She’s got a right to be protective,” I said, and raised the whistle for the next drill, but my head wasn’t on the field anymore.
Raschad jogged over from the far end, where he’d been running a few kids through extra reps. He’d missed all of it. Probably for the best.
“Good practice,” he said. “Boys look solid.”
“They need work.”
