Chapter 39
SADIE
Something changed within me on that turf, or maybe something was remembered—where my tears were wiped and my fears were met with Milo’s quiet sureness.
And Milo Carter—he was the real deal.
“Here.” Caleb hands me a jersey. “It’s yours.”
We’re back in some kind of dugout, where the lights are still bright but the space feels more intimate. It smells like laundry soap and sweat—like hard work and hope.
I take the royal-blue jersey with Carter printed on the back and smile as I look back up at Caleb. “Really?”
“Really,” he confirms. “I’ve been saving it for you.”
Saving it for me. How much does this man know about me?
I glance over at Milo before I slip it over my sundress. I pull my hair to the side, smoothing the frizz from playing a one-on-one game with Milo where he let me win but not before softly tackling me to the ground a few times and placing quick, distracting kisses against my skin each time he did.
“Look at me back in your jersey, Hot Shot.” I wink before I do a little spin and shimmy when my back with his name on it is facing him.
Milo grins. “Looks better on you than me, like always.”
“Milo freakin’ Carter,” a voice shouts from behind us.
I turn and I recognize this face. I’ve seen it on television, in interviews. Chiseled jaw, dark eyes, and jet-black hair.
“Sean,” Milo greets him, extending a hand.
Sean Gregory. Quarterback. Back when Milo played and possibly now, too. I’m not sure since I quit watching football the day Milo was injured.
Sean gives a judgmental look at Milo’s hand but grabs it before he pulls Milo into a hug.
Either this team really likes to hug, or they’ve got a bond with Milo that I don’t yet understand.
When he releases him, Sean says, “Imagine my disappointment when I had to hear about you being back here from this old guy.” His head tilts toward Caleb.
Caleb shakes his head, more amused than annoyed by the ageism.
“Sorry. Sadie and I hadn’t exactly planned to be here,” Milo says as he looks over at me. “Sean, this is Sadie Summers.”
Sean’s grin splits his face. “The Sadie Summers?”
I watch Milo as Sean says the words. Milo tugs at the collar on his shirt.
“I don’t think he knows any other one.” I take a step forward with my hand extended. “Sean Gregory?”
“That’s me,” he says as he shakes my hand heartily.
“Your running game is weak.” I say the words my dad always said when we watched the Giants play.
He chuckles. “Oh, really?”
“Really,” I confirm. “The stats don’t lie.”
Sean steps back, assessing me. “All right, so what do Milo’s stats say about him?”
I know exactly what Milo’s stats say about him. My dad boasted about Milo like he was a son to everyone in Dusty Hollow, and Dusty Hollow always agreed.
“One of the best running backs the Giants ever had,” I answer confidently before I turn my gaze toward Milo. “Kid knew his game and had the heart to play it.”
I hear my dad in the words, and I wonder if Milo can too. His mouth lifts in a small smile, but his eyes seem to dull slightly.
“Dang,” Sean mutters. “Can’t disagree with you there. Game hasn’t been the same without him.”
I shrug as I turn back to Sean. “Some things are simple to see.”
“So, Milo.” Sean turns his attention to him. “You comin’ back to coach?”
Milo shakes his head. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“It should be why you’re here,” Sean argues. “You’ve got a gift, man. One we could really benefit from.”
“I took a teaching and coaching job back home. I’m happy with where I’m at,” he answers quickly.
Back home.
The words land differently now—not like a cage, but like a choice. One he made. One I’m still afraid to.
Sean lightly elbows me. “Think you can work your magic and convince him he belongs here?”
Milo’s brows furrow and he shakes his head, but I open my mouth before he can. “I’m pretty stubborn when given a task.” I elbow him back, not as lightly.
Sean pretends to wince and rubs his arm, then grins at me. “Well, a few of the guys and their girlfriends and wives were hoping we could hang out tonight. You two up for that?”
Milo’s lips part and he mutters, “I don’t think—”
“We’d love to,” I cut in brightly.
Sean’s dark eyes glisten. “Great. Laura will be excited to meet you, Sadie.”
“Laura?” I ask.
“My wife,” he says with the most contented smile.
“I can’t wait to meet her,” I reply genuinely.
“Coach.” Sean looks at Caleb.
Caleb nods his head. “Gregory.”
“I’ll text you where to meet, Milo,” Sean says as he turns away.
“All right.” Milo steps closer to me, his arm wrapping around my waist as he pulls me close before he whispers in my ear, “You sure? We don’t have to go.”
I turn, throwing my arms around his neck. “And miss the opportunity for your teammates to tell me stories about you? I don’t think so.”
“You’re going to be sorely disappointed, Bookworm. I wasn’t here long enough for many stories to be written,” he says gently.
“Any story about Milo Carter is one worth listening to,” I reply.
“I’ll text you details about the job,” Caleb interrupts before he leaves the room.
“Thanks, Caleb,” I reply loudly without taking my eyes off Milo.
“The job is not up for discussion,” Milo says softly.
“Everything is always up for discussion,” I reply.
“Well then, let’s talk about your job.”
I start to pull back, but Milo keeps his arms firm around me.
“What about my job?” I ask.
“Are you going to quit?”
I swallow hard.
“It’s on the list,” he says firmly.
Quit something you’re “good” at.
I’ve known since the day I saw that flyer at the hardware store that those words were about my job.
“It’s complicated,” I lie, for what feels like the millionth time.
“It’s not complicated. You’re just afraid of disappointing your dad.”
My throat tightens as my chin drops.
“The accident wasn’t your fault, Sadie,” Milo says softly.
I shake my head. “You weren’t there. You don’t know what it was like. How my family fell apart. Mom practically lived in her pajamas. She was exhausted with Dad’s recovery, and my sisters—they needed her, but she didn’t have enough of herself to give.”
Regret sketches ridges on his face. “I’m sorry, Sadie.”
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, feeling their sharpness. “And my dad needed me to keep his business afloat.”
Milo’s hand traces my face from my temple to my chin.
“And you did. But if I know him at all, I think he just wants you to be honest with him now. Your dad was the biggest supporter of anything you or your sisters did. Even the things he thought were ridiculous. Remember when Sophie wanted to perform magic at the talent show?”
I chuckle, a tear slipping down my cheek, which Milo softly wipes away. “Yes.”
“He volunteered to be her assistant,” Milo continues. “Marched right up on stage in that lawn-chair-pattern button-down like he was headlining Vegas.”
I laugh through my tears. “She made him wear the sparkly cape.”
“And the top hat that kept sliding over his eyes,” Milo adds. “Your dad couldn’t see a thing. Just stood there grinning while she dramatically announced she was about to ‘defy the laws of gravity.’”
I sniff. “And she dropped the wand.”
“Your dad still clapped like she’d pulled a rabbit out of thin air,” Milo finishes the story. “What I’m trying to say is your dad doesn’t want to keep you from doing the things you want to. He wants to see his beautiful girls loving their lives.”
I use the palms of my hands to wipe the rest of my tears and nod.
“Your dad loves you, Sadie.” Milo’s words are quiet now. “Not because of what you do, but because of who you are. There’s a big difference.”
I know what Milo is saying is true, but there’s truth to what I’m saying, too.
Truth to the fact that I had to hold everything and everyone together. Alone.
I look back into his blue eyes, my legs beginning to go numb with fear that I’m not strong enough to ask what I need to. I let a deep breath melt through my chest before I say, “Why didn’t you come back sooner? Why didn’t you come back after the injury?”
His eyes dull slightly and his chest stills. “I wish I could have,” he replies softly.
“Could have? What was stopping you?” I pull away from him, crossing my arms. “I understood when you had football why you didn’t come to see Joe, but after the hit .
. .” I shake my head. “Joe was like your dad, Milo. I went to his house daily after you were injured. I had to force him out of bed. Some days I spoon-fed him.”
Milo winces. I don’t want to hurt him, but he needs to know, and I need to know. Know why, when his dreams were snatched from him, it took almost four more years for him to come back to Dusty Hollow. Why he created a life of teaching and TikTok instead of facing his grandpa . . . of facing me.
“Can we sit down?” His question is quiet.
I nod, my shoulders beginning to tighten along with my jaw.
He turns, and I follow him silently through hallways and up different sets of stairs until we step out to sit in the stadium seats, the field now far below us.
“I don’t have excuses, Sadie, but I do have reasons.”