Chapter 14
Mallorie Jade
I’ve thought about Tanner since he left my office in the middle of the afternoon. What he said about his spot on the team bothers me. I feel like the kid needs some help, but I don’t want to jump head-first into a situation without knowing what I’m getting into. I need more information about this kid before I decide how to approach this situation with him.
So, in order to find out what I want, I’m going into the lion’s den—or better yet, the Lily den.
Her office door is open, and she’s sitting at her desk, shoulders pulled back with perfect posture. Glasses sit on her nose as she reads, and I rap my knuckles on her door frame to announce myself. Her eyes flick from the monitor on her desk up to me and then back to her computer.
“Come in,” she says without looking back at me.
I grit my teeth, trying to hold back some snarky comments. All day, I’ve seen her be open and friendly with the other staff members and kids, but with me, it’s been like a frozen tundra. Hayes said they aren’t dating, but if her attitude is any indication, it’s not from lack of trying on her part. She sees me as the competition, and if I were a better person, I’d put her mind at ease—let her know that there’s nothing between Hayes and me. But—I’m not the bigger person, at least not when it comes to Hayes.
A small part of me whispers it’s because I still care about him, but I squash that part of me like a bug as soon as it comes to mind.
“What can I do for you?” She asks, still engrossed in whatever is on her screen.
“I would like to speak with you about a student.”
Her eyes flick to me again, but this time they stay, assessing me.
“Which one?” she asks.
She cares about her students. Her whole demeanor softens when she asks. In a different lifetime and situation, maybe we could have been friends. But in this lifetime, she hates me because she thinks I’m her competition with Hayes, and I dislike her because—well, I’m not exploring that.
“Tanner Sylvis.”
She sighs, and the knot in my stomach grows bigger.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. He just came to my office for some pain medicine today. He had a headache. I noticed in his chart that he’s prone to getting them. I just want to know if I’m missing a medical diagnosis in the chart or if you can tell me anything else about him.”
“He’s a good kid.” She’s quick to jump to his defense.
She chews on her lip, and I wait because she clearly has more to say. But when she doesn’t continue, I say, “Okay. I didn’t ask if he was a good kid, though. I’m looking more for medical history.”
“Well—” she hesitates. My brow furrows. I don’t understand why she’s hesitating so much. Despite my dislike for her, I didn’t expect her to be one that would beat around the bush. “Last football season, he got a major concussion. He started having headaches at school often enough that we asked his mom to come in to see what we could do to help. When he came in, though, she acted like there was nothing wrong with Tanner. Without her cooperation, there wasn’t much the school could do except make her aware of her son’s problems. She didn’t want to hear it. I’m not sure what else has been done to help Tanner.”
“Does Hayes know this?”
She hesitates, reluctant to answer me, and I hope she tells me he doesn’t because if she tells me he does and the boy is still playing, I’m not sure I’ll be able to look at him the same way anymore.
“Since Hayes was just hired—and is still learning about his athletes—probably not. Plus, Tanner passed his physicals.”
“And you think it’s a good idea to hide the headaches from a coach?” I don’t bother hiding the anger simmering just below the surface. It’s reckless for her not to have told Hayes this.
“As I’ve already stated with a clear physical and his mom’s permission to play, there’s not much we can do.” Lily’s on edge, fingers clenching at the wood on the front of her desk.
Exhaling through my nose, I try to control my temper.
Everything Lily said sounds like an excuse, a way to pacify a mom whose husband sits on the board, but that means letting Tanner slip through the cracks, which I can’t do.
“What about Tanner’s attitude? How has that been? Did you notice any changes before the end of the school year?”
Her nails tap against the desk, a nervous tick.
“Actually, yeah. He’s usually a fairly good student. He makes good grades. However, he failed a course last year and had to take a summer class to make up for it. I’m hoping that this year is a fresh start for him.”
“So what’s being done to ensure that happens—that he has better success than last year?”
Her brows scrunch in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said. Tanner has more going on than just headaches. With the consistency of his headaches last year and the abrupt attitude change, I think it would be a good idea to keep an eye on him.”
Realization clears the confusion off her face, and suddenly, she’s looking at me with pity. “I uh—heard about your brother when I moved to town—”
I don’t let her finish that sentence. I stand and push back the chair, knocking it into the wall. Leaning down so my knuckles are pressed onto her desk, I glare down at her. “Don’t. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. So don’t you dare sit there and look at me with pity. I came here because I’m concerned about a kid.”
“But are you drawing parallels where there are none?” she asks.
If I were in my right mind, I would have been able to hear the sincerity in her question, but I’m not. Anger thrums through me.
How dare she.
Narrowing my eyes at her, I say, “You hired me to be a nurse—to recognize the signs when a kid needs help, and I’m doing that. You either trust my judgment, or you don’t. Either way, you will not bring up my brother again.”
Lily pinches her lips together and nods, staying silent, which is for the best in this situation. There aren’t a lot of times when I lose my temper—as much as Hayes would like to say I fall into the stereotype of a fiery redhead, it’s not true. It takes a lot of sparks to ignite the flame, but when that last spark hits, it rages like an inferno. And right now, I’m one spark away from an explosion. I think Lily realizes that, too.
She doesn’t look at me when she says, “Maybe you should talk to Hayes.”
I don’t let my surprise show, but I don’t take how much that hurt her to say for granted. She doesn’t want me around Hayes; in a way, I can respect that—Hayes is a hard man to let go.
“Thank you,” I say, pushing off the desk.
Nodding, she opens her mouth to say something but stops. I wait. Lily still doesn’t look at me when she says, “Don’t break his heart again.”
“I didn’t—I’m not—”
She lifts her head, and the devastation on her face makes me stop talking.
“You did. Whether you realize it or not—you did. That man has been broken since the day I met him, and it wasn’t until you came back to town that I realized that while you might have been the one to break him—you’re also the only one who can fix him.”
I shake my head, ready to deny it, but Lily smiles. So, I keep my mouth shut.
“When he thinks no one is looking, he smiles at you, and it’s a different kind of smile than I’ve ever seen from him. So, I’ll say it again: don’t break his heart.”
There’s not anything else left for me to say. Hayes and I broke each other beyond repair, but that’s hard for people to understand because they don’t know the whole story. So I smile back at her, sympathizing with the pain of letting Hayes Miller go, and walk out of her office to face the demons of my past once again.
______________________
Walking onto a football field is like stepping into my own execution. It’s painful to every fiber of my being. I used to love this sport, but it took away one of the most important people in my life.
It stripped me of the very person I would have been and changed me entirely. So yes, walking out here feels like an execution.
The August sun shines bright in my eyes as I walk out, hoping to catch Hayes before practice starts.
Talking to him is going to go over about as well as a lead balloon, but I have to try.
There’s a nagging feeling in my gut, warning me that Tanner is more like Langston than I want him to be. I might have failed my brother, but I won’t make the same mistake twice.
Hayes is standing in the end-zone on the other side of the field, and I angle my body his way. My mouth goes a little dry as he watches me approach. He’s wearing athletic shorts and a t-shirt that clings to every muscle he has. The man looks like every girl’s dream, and I’m stuck between ogling him or glaring at him. My head says glare, but my hormones say ogle.
It is unfair how handsome he is.
I pray my face doesn’t give my dilemma away.
Today, we need neutral.
Meeting him on this football field doesn’t feel neutral. Every single memory of Langston is searing into my skin, and unfortunately, those memories override my common sense.
“What are you doing here?” Hayes asks as I approach.
“Wondering why you didn’t mention being the football coach before that board meeting.” It comes off as accusatory, my voice cracking with pain.
And dang it, if that one slip didn’t just reveal my hand to this man.
“And when would you have liked me to mention that?” he asks, cocking one eyebrow. “When you broke my nose or when we were visiting your brother’s grave?”
“Any time between those,” I say, shrugging my shoulders to release some of the tension I feel building.
Neutral. I need neutral.
This conversation isn’t about the past; it’s about the future of a boy we both have the power to help.
The muscles in his arms bunch as he crosses his arms and looks down at me. “Why are you here, MJ?”
“I guess I could ask you the same thing, Hayes. But, you know what, I won’t because that’s not why I’m here. We no longer owe it to each other to know why the other makes a decision. In fact, I think it’s best we keep our interactions to a minimum. But since you are the coach and I’m the school nurse, this is one interaction we can’t avoid.”
Hayes’s lips twitch, but everything else about him stays cool and professional. “Let’s hear it then. What is it you need? I have a practice to get to and don’t have all day. We are already behind since they hired me late.”
I run my fingers through my hair, pulling it off my neck to ward off it sticking to me in this heat. Hayes’s eyes track the movement, so I release my hair and do it again to mess with him. His eyes snap to mine, and there’s danger burning there that I provoked. Dropping my hair again, I let it rest against my shoulders.
With a puff of air, I get to the point. “Look, I’m worried about Tanner.”
“Why? Is he injured?” he asks, concern wrinkling his brow.
“Not in so many words.”
“How about you use your words and explain what you mean then.” He’s getting agitated, and it annoys me.
How are we supposed to work together to help this kid? We couldn’t even manage it when we actually got along.
Steel enters my spine when I think about failing someone else who needs my help.
“He came in for medicine today. He had a headache, and normally, I wouldn’t think much about it. But that paired with the amount of headaches he had last year in addition to the concussion he received —and well, I’m worried.”
“I haven’t noticed anything in practice.”
“No offense, Hayes, but how many of Langston’s coaches noticed something was wrong with him?”
He runs his hand over the scruff on his jaw. “None.”
“Exactly, and why didn’t they notice?”
He glares at me because he knows I’m right. “Because Langston was good at hiding it.”
“And you’re saying that Tanner can’t be?”
He stares at me, and I’m afraid he can see right through me, past all the bravado I put on, and straight to where all my secrets are buried.
I won’t let him see me there, though, because some things are meant to stay secret—to die with the person who holds them. Besides, I let him in that place once—it nearly ruined me. I won’t survive letting him in a second time.
“There’s more, though, isn’t there?” he says, holding my gaze. “There’s something you aren’t telling me.”
“His behavior has changed,” I say, dropping my voice so it’s barely above a whisper.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. The kid is not Langston, MJ.”
My head jerks up so fast it feels like I’m spinning. “Do you think I don’t know that, Hayes?” I yell. “Do you think I want to go through this experience again with anyone else? Newsflash: I don’t, but I am obligated to care for my patients. Right now, he’s my patient. I’m not saying he is Langston, Hayes, but I’m saying the signs are there. Signs that I—we both missed last time. Do you want to miss them again? Because personally, I won’t survive it.”
My shoulders heave as I try to catch my breath.
Hayes’s jaw works from side to side, and then he rubs his hand down his face.
“I’ll watch him. But that’s all I’m promising. I’m not going to look for Langston in every kid I see. We didn’t save him. We couldn’t, but we can’t redeem ourselves by finding someone else to help. We don’t get that redemption, MJ—not now, not ever.”
An arrow shot directly at my heart would hurt less than what he said, but that’s only because it’s true.
Redemption is only meant for those who can be saved.
Hayes and I are long past saving.
“That’s all I’m asking,” I say before giving him a sad look and walking away.