Chapter Thirty-nine Vaughn #2
I know what he means. It’s nerve-racking when you know the people watching are watching to see if you screw up instead of hoping you don’t.
But thinking about the fans has my mind instantly going to Lacey.
The best fan. I smile as I picture her in the blue T-shirt with my name and number on the back.
The face paint on her cheek and the way she was there cheering me on.
And it wasn’t just at games. She always made me feel supported.
With algebra and with soccer. Talking to me about what I want to do after high school and about my mom.
Even when she didn’t like me very much, she just couldn’t help but be generous and kind, and full of optimistic pep.
When the game begins, I have to shake myself out of my thoughts. Rex and his team have a nice start while I’m still getting my bearings.
I hear Dad’s voice over the others as I’m jogging up the field: “Let’s go now.”
It’s the kick in the ass I need, but every time the action stops, I find myself gazing over to the stands. The complex here has a lot more seating than the one back in Frost Lake, but I can still picture Lacey front and center. Just imagining it has a rush of adrenaline coursing through me.
The ball is kicked to me, and I dribble around, looking for an open teammate.
The defense is tight, but I manage to get off a pass and then position myself low.
The ball comes back to me, but a defender gets a piece of it, sending the ball into the air.
Everyone else is waiting for it to come down, but I jump and hit a header into the net.
The excitement from my team feels good. They rush me, patting my shoulder and head. Rex walks over after they’re gone and holds out a fist to me. “Nice hops, Collins.”
We end the game tied. Not the outright win I was hoping for, but I had a good game.
After our coach releases us, I find Dad waiting for me off to the side of the field.
“Hey.” Still catching my breath, I drop my bag and kick off my cleats.
“Nice job. Some slow starts, but overall, you looked good.”
I nod as I take in the criticism with the compliment. He’s right on both accounts, which is always annoying.
“The coach from Denmark wants to chat after dinner.”
“Really?” I ask, my head snapping up to study his expression. “About me?”
Dad smiles. “Of course about you.”
I hadn’t expected that. He didn’t give me any indication throughout the day that he saw anything in me he didn’t in the others.
“I heard they’re looking to bring some people over this summer, but I’m not sure of any more details than that. Taking the meeting doesn’t hurt anything. And I already told him you plan to finish high school,” Dad says.
“All right.” I let the news sink in. “Anyone else?”
“Lots of people were impressed but most of them will go back to their teams before they make any decisions or extend any offers.”
I nod my understanding.
“Let’s get out of here. I’m starving.”
* * *
We meet up with Patrick Cooper at an Italian restaurant. He and Dad spend most of the time reminiscing about their times playing together. I enjoy hearing the stories. Dad is rarely this talkative or this laid-back.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and they’re so into their conversation that I slip my phone out to check it.
Rowan: How’s the showcase? Showing everyone up?
Smiling, I tap out a reply.
Me: Don’t I always?
He sends back an eye roll emoji. I think I spent too much time around Rex today.
Me: How are things there?
Rowan: Game is about to start, and I have a great seat. Should be a fun night.
He sent a picture, showing the football field where the players are warming up. But more importantly showing me he’s sitting right behind the cheerleaders. Lacey stands with her profile to the camera. She has her pom-poms in each hand and a smile on her face. Typical Lacey.
My chest tightens. I wish I were there. The thought hits me, and I’m surprised it’s true.
I send Rowan back a picture of me flipping him off. Dad is excusing himself to use the restroom as I pocket my phone.
Patrick takes a long drink of his beer then smiles at me. “Been a long time since I seen your dad. He’s exactly the same and so are you.”
From their stories tonight I gather the last time he saw me I was four or five, so I doubt that’s true.
“Hey, I have a question for you,” I say.
“Sure. Anything.”
“Why do we have your jersey hanging in the living room?” I ask him. Once I asked Dad, and he said it was a long story and wouldn’t elaborate more than that.
“He still has that thing on the wall?”
I nod, and he laughs, shaking his head. I’m not sure he’s going to tell me either, but then he says, “It was a bet.”
“What kind of a bet?”
His smile turns sheepish. “I said his marriage to your mom wouldn’t last, and he said it would.
We bet that the loser had to hang the other’s jersey up in their house…
” He trails off. “It was a shitty thing to say and even shittier to bet on it, but I was an arrogant prick, and your dad was young and in love.”
“Why didn’t you think it would work out?”
Patrick looks uncomfortable as he pushes his food around his plate.
“They were different. It didn’t feel like they wanted the same things.”
I stay quiet but quirk a brow, not really understanding, and Patrick sighs as if knowing I’m not going to move on without more of an explanation.
“Your dad fell hard and fast. He would have done anything to make her happy. And I worried that she liked the idea of them, the headlines and the attention, more than she did the reality of this life. It’s not easy to be married to someone who spends their days training and travels nonstop.
” He shoots me a side glance like he’s checking to see if he’s said too much.
“You thought she’d make him give it up?” I ask.
“I don’t know what I thought, honestly. It was a long time ago, and I was just out of a nasty breakup.” He gives me a rueful grin.
“Dad never talks about it. And my mom just says he never played better than when she was in the stands.”
He points his fork at me as he says, “That is true.”
“It is?”
“Oh yeah. When they first got together, everyone said she’d distract him and his game would suffer. She had this big, wild social life, and he’d always been quiet and focused on soccer.”
I’ve seen the pictures of them at parties and red carpets and the headlines Patrick is referring to.
Dad never mentioned it to me or responded to it in interviews, but his stats the season after they got together spoke for him.
I assumed that was intentional on his part, a silent fuck you to the media.
“When she was in the crowd, he found another gear. I got to where I was looking for her before each game as much as he was. I knew if she was there, we were in for a hell of a night.”
Dad comes back before he says any more, and the topic is dropped. I’m still thinking about it when we head out. Cooper shakes my hand and wishes me luck, then he and Dad hug and promise to keep in touch.
In the SUV, Dad starts the vehicle. He seems lighter after the dinner and being around Cooper.
“We have about thirty minutes before we meet up with the Denmark coach,” he says.
Staring out the window, I nod absently.
We start for the hotel. There’s a restaurant with a bar on the first floor. I can see the coach inside already waiting for us from the lobby area.
“Wait.” I stop, and Dad turns back to me. His brows pinch together.
“Did you really play better when Mom was at your games?”
His brows lift. “You want to talk about this now? The coach is wait—”
“Can you just be my fucking dad right now instead of my coach?”
His jaw flexes as we stare each other down.
I’ve never pushed him to talk about Mom; it always seemed irrelevant. They were together, and then they weren’t. But I can’t get Patrick’s words out of my head. “Cooper said when she was there, he knew it was going to be a great game.”
Dad nods. “He used to tell me I was showing off for her.”
“So it’s true?”
“Probably.” He clicks his tongue and gets a faraway look in his eyes like he’s staring back into his past.
“Why?” It’s hard to imagine my dad young or in love or showing off, even for my mom.
He sighs with all the drama and flair of someone better suited for teaching theater than soccer. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”
I glare at him. “Try.”
He’s quiet so long I don’t think he’ll actually tell me, but then he starts.
“What your mom and I had was special. All-consuming. Not in a bad way, exactly…my feelings for her filled me up. I was free to be me in a way I hadn’t really accepted before that.
” He stops and glances at me like he’s trying to decide whether to keep going.
With another sigh, he does. “I was so busy trying to prove myself that it wasn’t until I met her I realized I had the talent and drive.
I just had to believe it. She made me believe in myself.
I know it’s probably hard to imagine, since it didn’t last, but our relationship was the single best thing that happened to me.
I found courage and strength to be myself, and I got you. ” He tries a wobbly smile on me.
I try to laugh it off, but he steps forward and places a hand on my shoulder.
“Being your dad is the best and hardest job I’ve ever had.
You have dreams, and I want to make them all come true for you.
The downside of that is I know exactly what it will take to achieve them.
This is not an easy life.” He steps back and lets his hand fall to his hip.
“I guess sometimes it’s easier to be your coach than your dad.
I know soccer better than I know this…” He motions between us.
My throat tightens and I manage a nod. “I get that, but sometimes I want a break from it.”
He nods and then takes a step back, clearly thinking the conversation is over.
“I need to get back to Frost Lake.”
“What?” he asks like he didn’t hear me correctly. “We have the meeting with the Denmark coach and a whole day of games tomorrow.”
“I know, but this is important too.”
Dad takes a step closer, lowering his voice. “It’s a good opportunity. Professional soccer is more than playing. There are a lot of politics.”
“I get that, but I don’t have to worry about any of that for at least another year. Until then I want to enjoy high school and hanging with my friends.”
I can tell a retort is on the tip of his tongue, so I continue, “I’m not going to slack off in my training.
I know what I want, and I’ll keep working hard for it.
But I don’t want to lose track of everything else along the way.
I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, and I’m sorry if this hurts your reputation as well, but I’m not going in there.
I’m going back to Frost Lake to go to the homecoming game. ”
He stares at me, expression impossible to read. “You’re sure?”
I let out a breath. I was expecting him to list all the reasons I’m wrong and the things I’m not considering. “Positive.”
“All right.”
“Really. You’re not going to fight me on this?”
“No. I can’t make these decisions for you. It’s a big commitment, and if you don’t want it, I’m not going to force it.”
“I do want it, but this is important too.”
His jaw works side to side, and he studies me carefully. “Asking about your mom, blowing off a potentially important meeting…this wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain cheerleader, would it?”
“No. It has everything to do with her.”
“As your coach, I have to tell you I think you’re making a mistake.”
“And as my dad?”
“I’ll deal with everything else. Let’s go get the girl.”