Four
ALISON
It’s one of the few places where my life makes sense. Even when everything felt topsy-turvy after Mark’s death and my breakup with Danny, this field—this team—gave me focus and purpose.
Danny’s arms have always been the other place that made me feel secure.
I was so sure ending things was the right decision, but after last night—and waking up wrapped in his arms this morning—I can’t deny that I’m regretting how I’ve behaved these past five months.
I don’t want to hurt him anymore, but I don’t know if I’m strong enough to take the risk he wants me to take.
Being with him means possibly reliving the worst day of my life all over again—the memory of the phone call about Mark’s tragic death is as fresh in my mind now as it was when it happened. I don’t think I’d survive losing Danny.
Before I can linger on it too much longer, my four favorite players come running onto the field in their practice jerseys.
I know I’m not supposed to have favorites, but these guys have been mine since my first day.
They never questioned my authority or my knowledge of the game.
They followed my advice immediately and took over if other players ever tried to second-guess me.
They’ve had my back and always made me feel like part of the team, regardless of my gender.
So, yeah, they’re my favorites.
And despite the moniker fans have given them—The Fierce Four—they’re a bunch of softies. Gabe Romero, Dominic Smith, Romel Watson, and Tyler Russell tower over my five-foot, nine-inch frame and arrive with take-no-shit expressions on their faces.
“Hey Coach,” Gabe says as a smile quickly breaks on his face.
“Hey Gabe. How’s the houseguest situation going?” He’s got some girl staying with him, which I think is crazy since he met her at a bar and then offered his house when he played a role in her getting fired. But who am I to judge someone else’s life when my own is a chaotic mess?
His eyes soften and his smile turns tender. “It’s good.”
I opt not to ask more because I’m self-aware enough to know I’m not in the best headspace, and if he’s in a good mood I don’t want to ruin that for him with my attitude.
Although clearly there’s something more going on with this woman than I originally thought. I hope he knows what he’s getting into.
“You guys ready to run the new play?”
They nod eagerly and we go over the logistics, breaking down each of their roles.
Our next game isn’t for a few days, but it’s against one of our biggest rivals, and we’ve been watching tape for hours a day to learn all their tells.
We’re as prepared as we can be, but that’s not the time to get lax—it’s the time to double down on preparation.
We’re playing better than we ever have, and I can practically taste that conference championship victory already—although none of us will breathe a word of it out loud out of fear of jinxing it.
The first few times we run the play, it’s a mess, but we keep making minor adjustments until they work like a well-oiled machine.
Practice runs smoothly after that—despite one of the rookies trying to get snarky with me. Gabe, Dom, Romel, and Ty stare him down until he shuts up and puts his head down, and he never says another bad word after that.
At the end of practice, I release them to the showers and then head to the bench to jot down some notes for things I want us to review tomorrow.
I normally write out my practice plans in my office, but there’s something about sitting under the warmth of the sun with the cool breeze brushing across my skin and the calming quality of the green turf that convinces me to sit outside to finish my notes.
“Coach?”
I glance up to find Romel still on the field, even though the rest of the guys are already halfway to the locker room.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Everything okay with you?”
I stiffen for a moment before responding.
“Yeah, it’s fine. Why?” I thought I kept it together during practice, but maybe I was more scattered than I thought.
That would not be good. Coach Denton would never fire me, but he’s getting older, and if the GM ever decided to switch things up, I’d likely be the first to go if there was even a hint that I couldn’t be completely focused at all times.
“I know you’ve had a hard time these past few months. It’s been a while since I checked in.” He takes a step closer, his voice radiating care and sincerity. “The guys and I worry about you.”
My shoulders sag, and I slouch against the backrest of the bench. Romel comes over and sits next to me, both of us facing the field, now mostly empty apart from the trainers dealing with the equipment.
“It’s hard…moving on,” he says, his voice somber and filled with a depth of sadness only someone who’s experienced gut-wrenching loss can carry.
If there’s anyone who I can talk to about what I’m going through, it’s Romel.
His wife, Sydney, died from cancer shortly after their daughter, Kaylee, was born.
It was the Fierce Four and me who kept Romel afloat while he fought to overcome his grief and raise his innocent newborn daughter by himself.
But it was ultimately Kaylee that made all the difference.
I’ve never seen a more devoted father than Romel.
That little girl has no idea how lucky she is because he’s always going to put her first over anything—or anyone—else.
“Yeah,” I say, but it still hurts to talk about Mark—even with someone who understands grief. Instead, I confess, “I saw Daniel last night.”
I see his smirk in my periphery. “It’s about time.”
I snap my head toward him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We’ve been waiting for you to get back together with him. You two were too perfect for each other to stay apart for long. I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long.”
A heavy sigh escapes me as I look back out at the field—the only place that makes sense right now. Everything is clear. Our goal is to win. To keep the other team from getting that pigskin into the end zone.
Unfortunately, it’s not nearly as cut-and-dried with my feelings toward Daniel. “I’m scared,” I say.
He nods but doesn’t say anything at first, as if he’s chewing on his words. Then he says, “I get that. But five, ten years down the road, is it going to be fear you’re still feeling, or regret?”
His words land as he intended them to—that knot in my stomach turning into despair at the idea of not having Daniel in my life for the next ten years—and we sit there in silence while I process them for several minutes.
“I really hate you sometimes, you know.”
I can hear the smile in his voice even if I don’t look at him. “No, you don’t.”
“No, I don’t,” I say softly. “Thanks.”
He bumps my shoulder. “Just returning the favor. We have your back, Coach. No matter what. I just don’t want you to let fear keep you from what makes you happy. You always tell us not to be afraid to take risks and challenge ourselves. Maybe it’s time you take your own advice.”
I send a pretend glare his way. “I didn’t realize that advice would get thrown back in my face.”
He lets out a light laugh, nothing like the belly laughs he used to do before Sydney died, but it’s a laugh, nonetheless.
“It’s good advice.”
“Yeah, I suppose it is.”
“Think about it, Coach,” he says as he bounces up from the seat and starts an easy jog back toward the locker room, leaving me on the bench with my thoughts.
The rest of the trainers and coaches head back as well, but my body feels like dead weight so I remain seated, staring out at the green turf and thinking about all the choices I’ve made since Mark’s death.
I went scorched earth on my life—destroying anything that had any connection to Mark in some weak semblance of trying to protect myself from further hurt. Except the only thing that accomplished was making me feel like a raw sore for the last five months.
I don’t want to feel that way anymore. I want to feel whole.
I want to be happy.
I want Danny.