8. Wyatt
WYATT
“This place sucks.”
I frowned at Penny’s words, not because she was seven and shouldn’t be saying shit like that, but because I couldn’t really argue her point. “Language, Pickle.”
Her eyes widened. “What? I could have said ‘this place freaking sucks,’ but I didn’t!”
I shook my head to stifle my laughter and bundled the covers under her chin. “You’re making me old and gray.”
“Daddy, it does suck.” Her pout deepened. “I miss Uncle Lee and Aunt Tootie. Even Uncle Duke said that next time we went home, he’d take me out on the tractor.”
Home .
A few days in Outtatowner and Penny already considered it more of a home than this place.
I smoothed my hands down her arms. “I know it’s hard, but we’re still new here. We just have to make it our own. We’ve got this. Two against the world, right?” I touched the tip of my nose to hers.
Her freshly minty breath whooshed over me as she grumbled. “Two against the world.”
I lifted my head and smoothed back her hair. Penny had become everything. More important than a big cushy NFL paycheck. More than a Super Bowl ring I’d never get to wear. More than anything I could think of. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for her.
“Can I call Mom tomorrow?”
“’Course, baby. First thing, if you want to.
” My thoughts flicked to my ex, Bethany.
We’d burned hot and bright, but flamed out fast. I wish I could say that we tried to make things work, but the truth was, when she ended up pregnant after our third date and needed a paternity test from me and two other teammates , things fizzled fast. While we’d never discussed anything long term, I had wrongly assumed exclusivity was a part of the deal. I’d learned a lot since then.
I did what I could to support Bethany throughout the pregnancy, but she didn’t seem to want much.
We’d talked about options, including adoption, but in the end I just couldn’t agree to it.
Bethany said she’d never really considered children and didn’t want the responsibility, which I could respect.
She’d signed over her parental rights, and I became a single dad to the greatest kid on the planet.
And I’d make that choice again in a heartbeat.
Penny talked to her mom often, and I paid for regular visits and flights whenever either asked. Once I wrapped my head around the fact that we were having a kid, I vowed to never talk shit about Penny’s mother, and I was proud I’d kept up my end of the bargain.
There was nothing more important than Penny.
“Do we have to stay here?” Her soft whisper was so sad in the dim lighting of her bedroom.
My voice felt rusty. How do you break the heart of a seven-year-old? “I don’t know, Pickle, but I’ll figure something out.”
I kissed my daughter good night, flicked on her night-light, and walked toward the door before stopping. She was already looking at me expectantly.
My smile widened and my chest pinched. “One more. One more.” I never left without just one more hug, and she knew it.
I bent and Penny’s arms wrapped around my neck. “Thank you, Daddy.”
I wasn’t sure what she was thanking me for just yet. Leaving St. Fowler and staying in my hometown would cost me nearly everything in terms of focus and how that could impact my career, but being her dad was everything.
As her bedroom door clicked behind me, I pulled my phone from my pocket and started making calls.
* * *
“Is the queen satisfied?” I swooped into a dramatic bow as I pushed open another bedroom door.
“It’s perfect!” Penny’s squeal could break glass. She was full of shit; the house itself was grimy and needed serious cleaning, but she was in love.
“Ours forever?” Penny twirled, and her little feet created a semicircle of dust on the floorboards.
“Definitely not. It’s temporary. Let’s see how the summer goes.
” I didn’t want to make any promises to her if I couldn’t keep them, but after her sullen, heartsick words a few days ago, I immediately started making arrangements to spend the summer in Outtatowner.
Being only forty miles from the university, I’d managed to convince myself, and the board I reported to, that I could be the perfect dad and a successful head coach.
My phone buzzed with another voice mail from Gary Whitman, and anxiety crept up my back.
What the hell did I do?
“Hello?” My aunt Tootie’s singsong voice echoed down the hallway.
“Back here,” I called, slipping my phone into my pocket.
Penny ran down the hall and into my aunt’s arms. They hugged and swayed in a circle. Tootie smiled at me. “It’ll do?”
I nodded. The house was one of the few properties the Kings hadn’t yet scooped up, as it was a part of the Sullivan family farm.
They’d have the fight of their lives on their hands if they ever tried to move in on the old farmhouse Tootie and Dad had grown up in.
Though it wasn’t the main farm parcel, Tootie refused to sell even after Dad’s health declined, and I loved her for it.
While I figured out how to juggle my career while not emotionally scarring my daughter for life, we could stay.
“Oh, one small thing I forgot to mention. The apartment above the barn is being rented for a bit.”
My brows pitched down. “You forgot to mention that?” I didn’t need some stranger lurking around when Penny was playing outside or bugging us for a cup of sugar or something equally annoying.
Tootie waved her hand in the air in dismissal. “It’s nothing. Lark is a friend. You won’t even know she’s there.” Tootie booped Penny on the nose. “Just don’t go bothering her without permission.”
Lark.
The woman whose perfect heart-shaped ass was permanently implanted in my memory. The mysterious woman who’d breezed into town and had everyone talking. The woman I couldn’t stop thinking about. As if I didn’t have enough on my plate.
This is a problem.
When I said as much, Tootie only laughed and bustled Penny into her car, giving me time to deep clean the house before we officially moved in.
A girls’ day she called it.
As the car disappeared down the driveway, my eyes moved to the small window above the aging barn.
It was cramped and dark and the insulation was thin, so you could often hear the barn cats lurking around after dark.
In high school it made the perfect place to sneak a few friends and throw a party, but that was a long, long time ago.
I needed to get to work cleaning the house up if Penny and I were going to make it our home for the summer.
Cleaning the layers of grime and dust that time had placed on the home was surprisingly satisfying.
I didn’t hate the mind-numbing break from the stress of my everyday life.
Unfortunately, when my phone rang and it was Gary Whitman again , the tension that lived between my shoulders came back with a vengeance.
“Hey, Gary.”
“You in town?” He sounded annoyed. Pissed off. This was not good.
I looked around the dusty living room, cradled the phone between my shoulder and ear, and lifted the window open.
“I’m not. I won’t be staying locally for the summer.
” He started to protest, but I’d been backed by the board, so I plowed on.
“My schedule won’t change. I have a plan to be available and take care of what needs to be done. ”
“Well, I hope you included three unruly college students in that grand plan.”
“Three?” I was still working through figuring out what to do with Michael and Kevin.
“Joey Lupo. Fractured his pinkie.”
I sank down on the open windowsill and released a frustrated sigh. “He did what now?”
“Ultimate Frisbee.”
“Jesus.” Joey was a wild card. A showboat. Reckless. He was naturally talented, but that also meant he wasn’t hungry. He expected everything to come easily and—fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it—it usually did.
“Between him, Kevin, and Michael, you’ve got your hands full. We need those boys at full capacity for the season. Keep a close eye on them. Help them stay out of trouble. I expect them to be fresh and eligible if we’re going to have a winning season.”
A winning season. Everything came down to a winning fucking season.
“I’ll take care of it.” I ended the call abruptly and tossed my phone beside me on the couch.
I stared at the black mirrored screen, contemplating what the hell I was going to do next. My entire life was imploding. On a sigh, I reached for my phone and dialed one of my best friends, Mitch, a long snapper from the last team I played for.
Thankfully, he picked up on the second ring. “Ready to come back already?”
I scoffed. “Fuck no. I’m living the easy life.” I swallowed past the guilt at how easily the lie slipped out. “Just making sure you’re not getting into trouble in the off-season.”
“You know me; there’s always trouble, baby!”
I laughed at his arrogance, and we fell into a comfortable rhythm of catching up. He asked about Penny and shared his concerns about signing with the Steelers.
“I don’t know, man. Sometimes I think you got out right in time. First time I’m starting to feel old, you know?”
I hummed in agreement. Every year we played together we’d commiserate that the new players felt younger and hungrier. If you were lucky enough to keep playing beyond your late twenties, you were practically ancient.
“It’s been an adjustment,” I admitted. “Sometimes I think it was easier to show up, throw the ball, and go home. Now I’ve got an entire program riding on my shoulders.”
“If anyone can handle it, it’s you.”
“Thanks, man. Listen, I should go. I just wanted to touch base before I called up my ineligibles and let them know I’d be riding their asses all summer.”
Mitch chuckled. “Give ’em hell, Coach.”
I ended the call and looked around the dirty old farmhouse and considered how the hell I was going to keep three more kids out of trouble for the summer and ready to play ball.
Tiny particles of dust floated up when I sighed again.
Looks like I just found my cleaning crew.