Chapter 17
What did one wear to your kid’s first flag football practice when there would be pro football players in attendance? Not leggings and a ripped-up T-shirt, that’s for damn sure. For the first time in months, I threw on some nice jeans, a tank top, and a white sweater with a wide V.
My hair was actually down. A few coats of mascara and some blush made me feel like I’d done something for an event like this.
Sage was exiting the bathroom when I left my bedroom, and she stopped. “Wow, you look fancy.”
“That’s just because I look like a troll most days since I’m home working.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, you don’t.”
“Trust me, it’s better that way. Then when I make an effort, people are incredibly surprised at how nice I can look when I try.” I tugged at the sleeve of her green and white Jets shirt. “You’re one to talk. You trying to make a statement with this thing?”
Sage shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
What bullshit. My little rebel had eyes practically glowing with a healthy mixture of excitement and nerves.
“Want me to do the two braids?” I asked. “We’ve got enough time.”
“Yeah.” She sat crisscrossed on her bed, and I stood behind her. “Will you teach me how to do these someday?”
“Of course. We may have to watch some videos first, though. I can’t really teach you on my own head, but we’ll figure it out.”
She nodded.
“You nervous?”
“About meeting the players? Or the practice?”
“Either I guess.” The motion of folding her hair on top of itself was soothing, and I missed doing this for her like I had when she was younger. Sage often did her own hair now, favoring a simple ponytail or keeping it down around her shoulders. She had her father’s hair. The auburn tinge caught in the light had me remembering how it used to feather off her head when she was a baby. My motions slowed because I didn’t want to rush these moments.
“A little nervous to meet the players,” she said. “Not nervous for practice. I know I can play.”
I smiled. “I’m proud of you for going to the coach, you know. That took a lot of guts.”
Her shoulders sagged a little. “I got so nervous once I was in there. What if that happens at my first game? Where I think I’m ready, but as soon as I get out there to do the thing, I mess up?”
“It’s okay to be nervous. As long as you still press forward. If we let our nerves keep us down, then it becomes a problem.” I finished one braid, looping a clear elastic around the bottom, then moved on to the next. “And it’s also okay to mess up,” I reminded her. “Even the greats have bad days, kiddo. Just gotta keep working and keep trying. That’s what matters.”
She sighed. “I know.”
We stayed quiet as I finished her second braid. Sage pinched her eyes closed and covered her mouth when I sprayed her braids with some hairspray.
“All done,” I said.
She turned around and spread her hands out. “How do I look?”
The surprising press of tears at the back of my eyes had me swallowing hard. She looked beautiful, and capable, and so much older than her ten and a half years. It was like getting a glimpse at Sage, the woman. Who’d be picking colleges and going to proms and falling in love and finding her passions.
Her eyes took on a horrified glint. “Oh my gosh, are you going to cry?”
“No.” The wobble in my voice betrayed me. I tugged her in for a fierce hug. “You look like you’re ready to kick some ass.”
When she pulled away, she was grinning. “Perfect.”
Sage chose the music on the drive over to the high school field where they were having the first practice, lots of high-volume, driving-beat, pump-you-up kind of songs. And it worked because we were both singing at the top of our lungs as we pulled in.
Normally, they’d be at a large indoor sports facility, but the mild weather had persisted, a warm, sunny mid-November day that had the coach allowing for an outdoor practice in a place where the visiting players wouldn’t get swarmed by other teams playing other sports.
We were early because Sage was going insane sitting at home waiting. Ian had taken Sheila’s big SUV to the private airfield outside of town to pick up Parker and his teammates since they’d decided to cut down on their commute and charter a flight lasting a touch less than thirty minutes.
The SUV wasn’t there yet, and as we parked next to a big black truck with a blue Portland Voyagers sticker on the back, Sage sat up in her chair to look onto the practice field. Black and red tents were set up next to the field, and a tall guy with sandy-brown hair stood with his back to us.
“That your coach?” I asked.
She nodded, rolling her football in her hands as she stared at the crisply painted white lines. “Too bad we couldn’t be on the main field,” she said. “That would be cool.”
I smiled. “One step at a time, slugger.”
She hopped out of the car, slinging her bag onto one shoulder as she called out a greeting to her coach. He turned, and I watched his expression carefully. I knew my daughter, and if this man even hinted that she was a burden to the team, she’d be crushed. I’d be forced to commit violence against him, and it would all be very messy.
But thankfully, he smiled. It seemed genuine too. Some of the tension in my shoulders eased, and I stood out of the car, tucking my phone into my back pocket. A couple of kids and their parents were already there, but they must have parked on a different side of the field, and Sage immediately ran off to join the boys where they tossed a ball back and forth.
I watched them carefully too and was relieved to see a few high fives and a fist bump when she joined in their game.
“You must be Sage’s mom,” the coach said as he approached. He was taller than me, with faint smile lines around bright blue eyes and the kind of easy smile that said he used it often. He held a hand out, and I shook it.
“Harlow,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”
His gaze stayed on my face, and I felt my cheeks warm under his perusal. “Coach Collins,” he said. “But you can call me Scott.”
“Thank you for giving my daughter a shot,” I told him. “She was on a girls’ league in New York, and she misses it terribly.”
We both looked over to where she bounced back and let go of a bomb. It dropped perfectly into the other kid’s hands, and they all shouted. Scott whistled. “She’s got a good arm. I can’t guarantee that there’d be enough interest for a girls’ league around here, lots of small towns, but can’t see that there’d be any backlash to having a co-ed flag team if we’ve got a few girls who want to play.”
“Good,” I said. “It means a lot to both of us.”
Scott nodded toward Sage. “The Jets, huh? This has gotta be a huge change coming from New York.”
I let out a small snorting laugh. “Like a different planet. I was in New York for almost as long as I lived here growing up. I forget that everyone seems to know everything about your business.”
“Not everything,” he said easily. “No one sent out any emergency bulletins letting me know that a beautiful new woman moved into town.”
My brows rose slowly, and I was surprisingly flustered at the unexpected compliment. “I suppose I slipped in under the radar. Maybe because I’m not really new.”
“It’s, uh, just the two of you, right?” At the startled look on my face, he laughed quietly. “Sage mentioned her dad wasn’t in the picture.”
Now my face was hot, more out of embarrassment than anything. “Kids have an interesting way of just blurting your whole history out, don’t they?”
He smiled. It was a nice smile, I had to admit. A small dimple popping out through the stubble. He reached up, rubbing at his jaw with his left hand. I almost rolled my eyes, because it was so clearly designed to display his empty ring finger.
“That’s my fault, actually. I asked her if Ian Wilder was her dad when he walked into my office looking like he was ready to rip my head off.”
“Ahh.” I cleared my throat, trying to stem the hysterical laugh that threatened to escape. “Nope. Ian and I have been friends since kindergarten. He’s … protective.”
“I can see why,” he murmured, and I took a deep breath, pretending like he was talking about Ian being protective of Sage.
We stood watching more kids and parents arrive, the energy in the place palpable. A good smattering of the parents wore Voyagers shirts, and I wondered how many of them were more excited to be here than their kids.
“So what do you do, Harlow?” he asked.
“Oh, uhh, I’m a writer…” I was about to finish my sentence when the sound of an SUV pulling up cut through our conversation.
Sage sprinted over, a little out of breath, her cheeks pink and her eyes bright. “They’re here,” she whispered frantically. Behind her, the kids on the team were practically vibrating.
“Everyone, find a seat,” Coach Scott yelled. “No need to bombard them, okay? You’ll all have a chance to meet the guys, so don’t worry about that.”
Sage pressed back against me, and I settled my hands on her shoulders and squeezed. Ian got out of the car first, his gaze catching on mine immediately. He smiled a soft little smile, then winked at Sage.
From the passenger seat came Parker—looking absolutely nothing how I remembered him—and even I got a little flurry of nerves as I clocked the sheer height and breadth of his muscular frame. His hair wasn’t quite as dark as Ian’s, his jaw freshly shaved and sharp as a knife, his features hard and handsome.
“Wow,” I said under my breath. “The gene pool in this family is something else.”
The other three players got out, all just as impressive as Parker, and the noise from the team reached a fever pitch.
“No way, that’s Cannon Bishop,” someone said. “And-and Jamari Jennings!”
“And Miles Cooke,” another boy’s voice cut through. “He’s my favorite running back.”
Coach looked back and gave them a gesture to be patient. Ian and Parker approached me and Sage first, and it felt like my daughter might spontaneously combust underneath my hands.
Parker gave me a small smile and a nod. “Harlow. Not sure you even remember me. I was just a young punk when you moved away.”
“You’re still a punk,” Ian added quietly.
Parker nudged him with a big shoulder, and the two brothers shared a look. Gawd, it was too much handsome in one space, my brain was getting scrambled.
“Of course I remember you,” I told him. “Though you do look a bit different from the last time I saw you.”
He smiled. “Just a bit.”
“Thank you for doing this,” I told him.
Coach Collins stepped forward, but instead of turning to greet him, Parker crouched down in front of my daughter, hanging his hands between his bent legs. “You must be Sage,” he said.
She nodded frantically. “I … yes. Yup, I am.”
I rolled my lips together to hide my smile, and my eyes wandered to Ian.
Parker held his hand out to my daughter. “I hear you’re the reason we’re doing this practice today. And that you’ve got one hell of an arm.”
As she shook his hand, Sage inhaled shakily. “Th-thank you. I’ve been practicing.”
He smiled. Even though Parker was younger than Ian, and had the same eyes, I couldn’t help but notice that he looked tired.
Then Parker pointed at her shirt. “Jets fan, huh?”
She nodded, a bloom of pink on her cheeks that I’d never seen in ten and a half years of being her mother.
Parker’s grin was big and wide, and even I was a little starstruck looking at him. “Maybe we can convert you if you live here long enough.”
“Convert me to a Voyagers fan?” she asked. Parker nodded. Sage sucked in a quick breath. “I mean, you can try. It’s not like your receiving core isn’t impressive, but your O-line is really weak on the sides when anyone presses the edges too much. It’s why your QB’s got about one-point-nine less seconds on average than any other quarterback in the league. I’d have to see a few things change before I take you on as my side team.”
When Parker’s mouth hung open, Sage gave me a panicked look. Coach Collins coughed loudly.
Ian started laughing, a big, booming, wonderful laugh that had the little hairs standing up along my arm.
Then Parker did too. “Fair enough. Maybe I’ll put you in touch with our offensive line coach.” He stood and gave me a big smile. “Great kid.”
I squeezed her shoulders. “Yeah, I think I’ll keep her.”
Parker finally held his hand out to Coach Scott, who slipped right into official practice mode. “Scott Collins,” he said, voice noticeably deeper than when he’d spoken to me. “Honored to have you all here. Just … whatever you’re willing to do to help the kids is incredibly appreciated.”
Parker nodded to his teammates. “My brother-in-law Beckett wasn’t able to come. He tweaked his ankle in practice, and they wanted to work on him, but we figured we’d get the kids split into two groups. Miles and I will work on offense. Cannon and Jamari will focus on defense and start with some basics if that’s all right with you.”
Sage, the coach, and the four players went to join her team, and Ian came to stand next to me, his shoulders brushing mine. “You look nice,” he said evenly.
My cheeks warmed again. “Thank you. Can’t embarrass my child, you know.”
He made a small humming noise that could’ve meant any number of things. I bit down on the tip of my tongue, stowing the urge to ask him.
We took a seat on the metal bleachers and waved when Sage gave us two thumbs-up as the Voyagers players started lining them up for drills.
“You will have forever brownie points for this one, Ian Wilder.”
“That’s why I do it.”
I cut him a sideways look. “No, it’s not.”
He kept his gaze trained on the field. “Sure it is. That way, when I’m a dick, people forgive me a little bit easier.”
I laughed. “You planning on being a dick soon?”
“Nothing on the books just yet.”
Slowly, I nodded. “I’ll be ready just in case.”
“You and Sage want to have dinner with the family after? Parker is bringing the guys over so he can see Mom.”
The invitation sounded so wonderful that I fought to lay my head on his shoulder and sigh happily. Maybe I would have done it a couple of weeks ago without thinking. I wouldn’t have worried about how it would look or what domino effect it would trigger. But today, I simply glanced in his direction and smiled. “Your mom bake something good?”
“Can’t imagine she didn’t.”
“Then we’re in. Looks like Sage is over her fear of meeting your brother now,” I said.
We both looked out onto the field, where Sage was talking to two of the other players, gesturing wildly as they listened intently.
Ian exhaled a quiet laugh. “Yeah. It sure does. Maybe I can still pay her to give Parker a full critique at dinner.”
“Don’t you dare,” I warned him. “She’ll take you up on it, and you know it.”
He gave me a quick, mischievous look, and dammit, it set off a dangerous swirling in my stomach.
I ignored it. Just like I was ignoring everything else inconvenient that seemed to be changing in my brain.