3. Jonah #2
O—kay. His name is Calvin. Huh. I’m not sure if that actually fits or not.
Calvin Duke. And my brother sounds hurt.
Badly. What the hell? Calvin raises his eyes from the ground to stare directly at my brother—his coach.
Clearly someone he respects—or did before I came along.
“I do. It was all bullshit. All your speeches. All of that you earn it on merit bullshit I believed. You really had me fooled.”
Micah looks physically pained by his words. “Give him a chance. Trust me.”
Calvin shakes his head. “No. I trusted you,” he says again, and I hear some of the guys around me chuckling at their teammate, who looks close to crying right now.
“Give it time.”
“No,” Calvin says quietly, but then his voice gets louder. “No. I’m done. I’m not doing this.” He starts to walk away, and I’m shocked to see Micah looking slightly desperate and taking a step after him.
“Get back here. Practice isn’t over yet.”
“It is for me.”
“You walk away, and you’re done, Duke. You hear me?” Micah’s voice is raised now, that air of authority back. “Think about it.”
“I have,” Calvin says, then turns on his heel and stalks toward the locker room.
“I mean it, Duke!”
Micah doesn’t say another word, and it’s clear he’s shaken by the whole thing. But he quickly recovers and orders everyone back on the field to run some plays. He orders a younger guy to fill in for Calvin, and by the end of practice, I’m beat.
After showering, everyone clears out, and I make my way to Micah’s office.
He looks a little distraught sitting at his desk, and I know he’s feeling what happened with Calvin.
“I’m sure you can talk him into coming back,” I say softly, dropping my backpack and my gym bag to the floor as I take a seat in one of the chairs in his office.
“He left practice. That’s grounds for dismissal from the team.”
“Don’t you make those rules?” I ask smugly.
Micah smirks, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “He can’t just walk out on the team like that.”
“But he was shocked. Dealing with some heavy stuff, I’d say.” I don’t know why I’m defending him. I don’t know the guy, and he kind of seems like a prick, but something is nagging at my brain.
“Why do you care?”
Good question. “He’s a good player. I think we need him if we want to go to state.”
His mouth is in a thin line that tells me my instincts are right. “You spent most of the first part of practice flat on your back on the field. You really think he’s good?”
Clearly, he and the other guys were sending me a message. I know it. Micah knows it. But I don’t acknowledge that. “Just getting into the groove.”
He sighs and tugs at his hair, frustrated. “Jonah . . .”
“I feel like we’re going to need him.”
“You need someone who’s going to block for you.”
“And he will.” I say it like I’m far more sure of that than I actually am. I don’t understand why I’m defending the guy either, but all I know is I feel this weird sort of pull to him. “Something’s off with the team and him,” I say quietly. My eyes meeting his. “Tell me you don’t know that.”
His expression is grim. “Picked up on that, huh?”
“So you do know.” He looks almost guilty. “What happened?”
He starts to open his mouth, like he’s going to tell me but snaps it shut and then shakes his head.
“I don’t know. It’s past gossip I’ve heard throughout the halls, which I won’t repeat.
” He looks at me almost pleadingly, like he wants to tell me.
Like I should know. It rankles my spirit deep down, and I hate when I shift uncomfortably in my seat.
“So you just let the rest of the team treat him like shit?” There’s an edge of anger in my voice, one I’m not proud of. But this is Micah. My biggest defender. My big brother who went toe-to-toe with our father for years for me. And he just lets the team bully this guy? Why?
I see the shreds of guilt in his soul. “I tried to get him to talk to me. What the hell am I supposed to do, Jonah? The kid won’t talk to me. I can’t punish the team for a gut feeling.”
“Sure you can,” I say fiercely but then back off a little, smirking. “I mean, you are the coach.”
He snorts. “I’m a fair coach. If Calvin won’t tell me what’s going on, I can’t do anything about it. But don’t for one second think I don’t have my eyes on him, that I’m not waiting to step in.”
Okay, so there’s the big brother I know.
“So talk to him. Let him back on the team.”
Micah grips the bridge of his nose and breathes deeply. “He won’t talk to me.” He drops his hand, and his eyes meet mine. “You’re the QB. If you get him to show up to practice and get in line, he can come back.”
I sit up straight, inhaling a deep breath, then letting it out. “You think he’ll talk to me when he won’t talk to you?”
“You’re so concerned. Go for it.”
I swallow hard and stand up. “And how exactly do I find him? Can you give me his address?”
He frowns at that. Damn Micah, always a rule follower. “You know I can’t.”
I roll my eyes.
He leans back a little in his chair and mutters almost absently, like he’s talking to himself and not me. I soon realize it’s on purpose. “You know, the Duke family is almost like royalty around here. Everyone in town knows the big white house on First Street,” he muses.
“Nice, big brother,” I say with a laugh, shouldering my bags and heading for the door.
“Jonah . . .” I turn to look at him, the worry creasing his forehead. “Be careful, okay?”
I snort. “He’s just a guy.”
“I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Somehow, I don’t think he means physically. I just salute him and then take off to the parking lot, straight to my truck.
Here goes nothing.