Chapter 7
Hayes
The day after my mom mentioned the head coach position, I called Lily, and we set up a time to meet.
I don’t want it. I walked away from football, promising myself never to look back, and this job feels like looking back.
For the past six years, I’ve spent my time running, physically and mentally, from my past—or at least doing a really good job of ignoring it—and now, in a span of a week, it’s all catching up to me.
But I guess you can’t run forever, and maybe it’s time I start looking at those pieces of me, especially with MJ back in town. It’s a small town, and just like today, we are bound to run into each other. I would prefer not to have a black eye every time it happens.
“Are you listening to me?” Lily giggles, reaching across the desk and squeezing my hand.
When I called her, I felt bad for the type of friend I’ve been lately. We promised to keep in touch when we decided dating wasn’t for us, but I’ve not held up my end of the bargain. I’ve been avoiding people for longer than I like to admit, preferring solitude to anything else.
So, to make up for it, I asked Lily out for coffee before we headed to the school to discuss the position.
During our meal, she caught me up on being the new principal, and I avoided telling her about my black eyes.
I’m sure she’s heard the rumors around town anyway.
To her credit, she didn’t ask about it, and when MJ walked into the coffee shop, her eyes merely bounced between us, letting it drop once MJ and her mom left.
Lily knows about MJ, not because I’ve told her anything. That’s a subject I avoided like the plague. But with Abigail’s involvement with the school and Lily’s penchant for committees, it was like a match made in heaven between the younger woman and Abigail. They quickly became friends, and the rest is history.
Now we are sitting in her office, and sweat trickles down my forehead as I brace myself for the pain of talking about football.
“If I say yes, will you believe me?” I ask, hiding my worry behind a smirk.
“No, Hayes Miller, I will not. Do you want to tell me what you’ve been thinking about with that far-away look in your eye, or would you prefer to listen to what I was saying?”
She glowers at me under her eyebrows. There’s no wonder the school board offered her the principal position. That look is intimidating.
“The second option, please,” I say with an apologetic smile.
Rolling her eyes, she pushes her chair away from her desk and leans back. I want to cower under her gaze, which seems to see right through me, but I don’t. Instead, I lean forward, placing my elbows on my knees, and settle in for this conversation.
“We are out of options, Hayes. The board meeting is in three weeks, and we have to hire someone by then. None of the other coaches want it. You know what football means to this town—the pressure to win is a weight none of them want to carry.” She pauses, her mouth working as if trying to think of how to say this next part. “From what I hear, you were good—like NFL good—and you walked away from it all. Why did you never tell me that? That’s a heck of an accomplishment.”
I shrug. “Because it’s just a game.”
If my sixteen year old self heard me say that, he would whip my butt, but I’ve lived a lot of life since then—and it’s a lesson I had to learn the hard way.
“Just a game? You realize that you could have been making millions right now. You were a top pick in the draft, Hayes. I looked after several people on the board who mentioned you for the job. That seems like more than just a game.”
“And that right there is why I didn’t tell you.” My voice is sharp, tension aching in my shoulders.
Taking a calming breath, I rub my neck, trying to work out some of the knots that have made a permanent residence in my muscles.
Lily opens and closes her mouth, not used to seeing this side of me, but doesn’t this prove my point?
I no longer love football like I once did.
My love for the game died, and I couldn’t get it back, no matter how hard I tried.
“You’re right,” Lily says, surprising me. I frown at her, wondering where she’s going with this. She gives me a soft smile, standing and walking to my side of the desk. Her hand falls to my shoulder, but I refuse to look up at her. “It is just a game—and maybe I can’t understand your decision to walk away from it, but I do know that our students would benefit from a coach who teaches them it’s just a game. I see the pressure they put on themselves to succeed at this sport. The whole town shoves it down their throats. I think we could all benefit from having a coach like you.”
A thick silence blankets the air between us as her words hit home.
In all my years playing football, none of my coaches ever sat me down and taught me that it was just a game. To them—losing would have been the end of the world, so I made it my mission to be the hero who saved them. Then my world came crashing down, and none of them thought to save me.
But can I be the difference for these kids? I’m not sure.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, knowing my window for deciding is closing fast.
“That’s all I can ask,” Lily says, trailing her fingers down my arm and making me wonder how effectively I set that friendship line. From the softness in her eyes when I look up, I think I might need to etch it in stone because her green eyes don’t make my heart speed to dangerous speeds like the pair of icy blue ones I looked into today. Even though nothing will ever happen between MJ and me, the same is true for me and Lily.
But I don’t want to hurt her, so I stand until we are the same height and pull her into a hug. “Thanks, Lily. You’re a good friend.”
She flinches in my embrace, the words settling between us. When she pulls back, there’s a sad acceptance in her eyes, and I can’t help but sigh in relief.
______________________
After leaving the school, I hopped in my truck and drove.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m pulling up to an older brick home on the outskirts of town with milkshakes sitting in my cup holder. I know better than to show up empty-handed.
Pulling into the drive, I cut my engine and grab the shakes. The stairs on the porch creek beneath my weight, and I make a note to come out here on my next weekend off to replace some of the boards.
The last thing I need is the old man falling through one and getting a call on my next shift.
Knocking on the door with my foot, I step back and wait. When there’s no answer, I knock again.
“Come on, Old Man. It’s burning up out here,” I holler, chuckling as I wait.
“Careful who you’re calling old,” a voice calls from inside. “I bet I could still take you.”
The funny thing is, he’s probably not wrong. I met Silas when I arrested him for fighting in the grocery store parking lot. He was seventy-five at the time, and that was three years ago. He’s a feisty old man, but I love him. He’s become somewhat of a surrogate grandfather to me. My grandparents live five hours away, so I don’t get to see them much, and as much as I love them, Silas is a realm of his own. It’s impossible to keep up with him to keep him out of trouble.
It’s a couple more minutes before the door finally creeks open, and when it does, I almost turn around and leave. The older man stands in the doorway, clad in a white undershirt, boxers, and nothing else.
I screw my eyes shut, forever traumatized by the sight, and booming laughter filters through the air.
“Silas,” I groan, “stop answering the door in your underwear.”
“Boy, you can’t boss me around. Besides, looks like you already tried that with someone else, and they gave you a shiner. Didn’t you learn your lesson?”
“Don’t pretend you haven’t heard the rumors about how I got this. You’re the worst gossip in this town.”
He chuckles, “Oh, I know—and I would love to have a conversation about that one. You ready for that?”
“Not in a million years,” I grumble, shaking my head. My eyes stay closed.
Silas knows who MJ is. Everyone knows the Harrison’s, but he doesn’t know all of it, only that once upon a time, I was in love with her, and it didn’t work out.
“That’s what I thought.”
I can’t help but smile at the grumpiness in Silas’s voice. He pretends to be a grump, but he’s really a softy under all that hard exterior. At seventy-eight, he is covered head to toe in tattoos and is taller than I am. The man is intimidating, but I once watched him get down on his hands and knees to have a conversation with a four year old. He didn’t want her to feel like he was towering over her, so he got on her level despite the ache in his joints and the time it took him to stand back up.
I sigh, knowing that I’m fighting a losing battle. “If you want this milkshake, put some pants on at the very least.”
“Well,” Silas grumbles, “I might let you boss me around for a milkshake.”
It’s only when I hear his footsteps disappearing into the recesses of his home that I chance opening my eyes. Peeking one eye open, I sigh when the coast is clear. Silas left the door open, so I step inside, pulling it shut behind me.
“Your milkshake is melting,” I yell, letting my voice echo off the walls of the house.
When you walk in, the living room is to the left. I head in that direction, sitting on one of his floral couches to wait for him to return. The whole house is a mish-mash of furniture and decor he’s found over the years. Not one piece of it matches, and not because he can’t afford it. Silas prefers the oddity of the things in his home, and I have to agree that it matches him.
“If you’re bringing me a milkshake, then things must be dire,” Silas says, coming back into the room and buttoning his jeans.
“Maybe I just wanted to see your ugly mug.” I extend my arm and wait for him to take the cup from me and get settled.
“We both know that’s not it, so spill.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re worse than a gossiping teenager.”
“Never claimed otherwise.” He puts the straw between his lips and sips, staring at me over the rim of the cup.
“I was offered a job.”
“Don’t you already have a job?” He asks around the straw.
“Yes. I would still do that job. This would be extra.”
My milkshake is melting in my hand, and the condensation on the plastic cup is dripping through my fingers. Silas eyes it and then looks at me, but I meticulously avoid his gaze.
“Am I going to have to guess what this job is? From the look on your face, I’m starting to wonder if you’re turning to the wrong side of the law.”
Grunting, I say, “Who would keep you from going to jail if that was the case?”
He laughs. It’s a full belly laugh. That’s another thing about Silas—he isn’t afraid to laugh. Even though his world crumbled, too, he doesn’t let it hold him back from experiencing joy. I wish I knew how to be like that.
“Touché, kid. Touché.”
“It’s the head coach position at the high school,” I admit, then shove my straw in my mouth, buying me some time before I have to answer any questions.
Silas, who had been taking a sip of his milkshake, chokes, coughing hard.
Maybe I should have waited until he put the milkshake down.
“Do I need to do the Heimlich on you or something?” I ask, a smile in my voice as I try to hide the one on my lips behind my cup.
He waves me off with his hand when I go to stand, not finding the amusement in the situation like I do.
“Just give me a minute,” he grumbles. “You can’t spring something like that on an old man and expect me not to be surprised.”
There aren’t many people I talk to about football, but Silas is one of them. He knows what it’s like to walk away from something you love. I never told him why I left, and he never asked. But he knows that I vowed never to go back.
“You weren’t the only one. I was pretty surprised myself.”
Sitting the cup on the stand beside him, he leans back in his chair and studies me. “Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me how this came about.”
My fingers flex around the cup, pushing some of the milkshake to the top. I keep my gaze there, flexing and releasing my fingers, anything to keep from sitting still.
“My mom is the one who told me about the job, but after my talk with Lily, I think there are a lot of players at work here. I should have seen it coming—a lot of the board members like to try and talk about the good old days when they see me around town—but you know me, I don’t like talking about it.”
“Lily’s that girl you went on a date with, right?” Silas asks, leaning forward on the edge of his seat.
Apparently, he hasn’t been on the gossip line today because he acts like I’m feeding his addiction. The man is worse than a middle school girl.
“Yes, but we’re just friends. She is the new principal at the high school, and I told my mom I would talk to Lily about the job. That’s where I was today.”
“And?” He lifts one brow, waiting for my decision.
“I think I have to take it.”
He nods, his mouth firming and the laugh lines disappearing from around his eyes.
“I think so, too.”