Chapter 15
Hayes
“What was that about?” Campbell asks.
He came out of the locker room while MJ and I were talking. I saw the curiosity on his face from across the field.
“You mean you don’t know? I thought you knew everything about her. ”
Campbell winces, and I puff out my cheeks, exhaling slowly.
It’s a low blow, one I shouldn’t have taken. He’s apologized—kind of—a few days after our fight, Campbell showed up at work with a coffee, a doughnut, and a sheepish grin on his face. It’s as close to an apology as I’m going to get, and in most circumstances, it would be enough, but standing next to MJ feels like every single one of my nerve endings is on fire. It’s a torture that I can’t help but love. “She’s the new school nurse.”
Campbell’s laugh is more of an unbelieving scoff than anything. “Little MJ? A nurse? No way.”
“They hired her at the last board meeting—the one you were supposed to be at with me to fend off Lily—remember?”
“Hey,” he says, throwing his hands up in innocence, “I got called in for a shift—that’s not my fault. Plus, didn’t you decide to be friends with Lily? Why would you need to fend her off?”
“I don’t think we were quite on the same page like I thought we were,” I say.
“Drama…” Campbell sing-songs. “Hey, tell me something. How is it that you get all the girls with that ugly mug? First MJ, then Lily, now MJ again. I mean, my face is much prettier than yours. What gives?”
“Better personality.”
His laugh is an all-out snort, and I can’t resist shoving him. He rolls backward, landing sprawled out on the ground with a knowing smile on his lips and clutching at his stomach with laughter.
I ignore him.
As I walk away, he doesn’t try to get up but calls from where he’s still lying, “Want to tell me about that board meeting because you and MJ looked awful cozy just then. Did she threaten to give you another black eye?”
I’m glad my back is to him so he can’t see when I wince at the thought of that tire iron connecting with my nose. It took four weeks, but I can finally breathe normally again.
The girl knows how to swing.
“Come on, you clown,” I call over my shoulder. “We have a practice to start.”
After my interview with Lily, I asked Campbell to be a part of my coaching staff. We played together in high school, but he never went further than that. Not that he couldn’t have. He was just as good as Langston and me, but it wasn’t the path he wanted to follow. He knew he was always going to be an officer. He has a way of connecting with people that makes them feel comfortable.
It’s why I need him. I might know all the skills these kids need to learn for the game, but Campbell knows how to connect with them.
When I’m halfway across the field, Campbell sprints to catch up. The team is waiting on the track where they’d been warming up with laps. I keep my eyes on them as I talk.
“Listen, keep an eye on our quarterback.”
“Who? Tanner?”
I nod, thinking about the last time I saw him. I can see where MJ is coming from—I caught the kid trying to smoke, for Pete’s sake—but I also can’t say that I didn’t try stupid things in high school, too.
On the first day of practice, I laid my rules out for all the boys—no smoking, partying, or drinking. They are in high school, but I’m not an idiot. These boys like to toe the line of what they can get by with, but they don’t understand how dangerous it can be for them to cross that line.
All it takes is one time.
I can see Campbell studying me out of my peripheral, but I don’t look at him. I don’t want him to know how much MJ’s words have shaken me. MJ and I have a lot of trauma. I don’t want to shove that onto a kid who is just being a kid. I’m not saying she’s wrong, but I won’t jump to conclusions. Having Campbell keep an eye on Tanner won’t hurt.
“Okay—” Campbell drawls, “but is there something in particular I’m looking for?”
My steps falter, trying to figure out how much to tell him. It’s best if I just keep it simple for now.
“Just—tell me what you see.”
He pauses for a minute, considering me.
Campbell is not stupid.
He knows if I’m asking, I have a good reason behind it. Turning so he’s walking backward, he salutes me. “Can do, Coach.”
I don’t bother to hide my eye roll from him.
______________________
Practice was rough, and that’s all I have to say about that—otherwise, I might slip into my truck and bang my head on the steering wheel or, worse, cry.
MJ wasn’t wrong about something being off with Tanner. I can’t put my finger on it yet, but Campbell and I agree that we have to pay attention to the kid.
I hate that she was right. Not because it’s her, but because I know the pain it will cause her to be right.
Add the problem with Tanner to the fact that the entire team has an ego bigger than life, and it was an all-out disaster. What’s worse—they haven’t even earned those egos.
The team hasn’t made it to a district game in several years, let alone state, and they act invincible—like they don’t have to listen to a word I say. But that stops now. I’m not their old coach who was content to be walked all over. I’m here for one thing and one thing only—to help shape them into the men they will grow up to be. I don’t care if we don’t win a game all year, which won’t happen if they will listen to me. It’s more than winning a game to me.
Lowering my tailgate, I sling my equipment bag into the back of my truck.
“That’s an awfully ugly thinking face you’ve got on there,” a deep voice rumbles from behind me.
I chuckle and turn to face Silas.
“What are you doing here?
“Can’t an old man come to watch his favorite coach at practice? Did you think I would let you take this job without joining in on the fun? I got a lot of knowledge, you know.” Silas taps his pointer finger against his temple.
“I’m sure you do,” I say, exasperated with the conversation already. “Let’s hear it then. What did you think?”
Placing my hands on the tailgate, I heave myself up, sitting on it and settling in for a long conversation. Silas leans against the side, slipping his hands into his pocket. He’s a mountain of a man, but if you watch him closely, you can see the aches in his body that he tries to hide from years of playing professional football. His time in the league is not a story that he tells to a lot of people. The way he left was less than ideal, but he felt I was worthy enough to know his story. Maybe it’s because my own football career burned out in a blaze of glory.
“You’ve got yourself a heck of a mess with those kids,” Silas says, shaking his head and taking a cigarette out of his pocket.
“I thought you quit that?” I chide.
The man has no sense of self-preservation.
“Nah, gotta go out someway. Might as well enjoy it.”
I shake my head but choose not to push him on the topic. I’ll hide his cigarettes later—it will at least stop him for a couple of weeks. “The board waited until the last minute to even pursue hiring someone, yet they made it clear at the meeting that they expect miracles with this team. Several board members even went so far as to threaten my coaching position if I don’t make it to at least districts this year—not that it would hurt my feelings. I wasn’t sure about this position in the first place. But it gets under my skin that they are expecting miracles here. Those kids had zero summer practices. I kind of figured I was walking into a mess when I took the job, but this—I don’t even know what to say about this.”
Smoke rings float through the air as he puffs them out between his lips. Between the rings, he lets out a dry chuckle. “That’s more than a mess you’ve got, Hayes. It’s a disaster.”
I shove my hand through my hair, tightening my jaw then releasing it. He’s not telling me anything I don’t already know. “Yeah, that seems to be the theme of my life here lately.”
This time, his chuckle is real. “I can see that. Saw a pretty redhead leave the field at the beginning of practice.”
“Can we not talk about her?” I ask, turning my head so I’m facing him.
His smile turns almost wolfish. “Well, now we have to talk about her. What’s her name again?”
In addition to gossiping, Silas’s favorite hobby is getting under my skin, and he knows that any mention of MJ is a sure way to do it.
Flattening my lips, I glare at him. He ignores it and puffs on his cigarette again, waiting for my answer.
“It’s Mallorie Jade Harrison—and you know it.”
“Oh yeah, now I remember. She’s the girl in the picture you have hidden in the top drawer of your desk at work.”
My head jerks back. “What have you been doing snooping through my desk?”
“That’s not the point,” he says, waving me off. “The point is she’s back in town, you received a black eye from her, and you’ve got a hidden picture of her. Seems to be quite the story there. One I’m wondering why you haven’t told me about.”
I shrug. “Not all stories are meant to be shared.”
“See now, I don’t think that’s true. You just have to find the right person to share them with—someone who won’t judge you for it.”
“Are you that person?”
“I’ve always been that person, Son, but I won’t force you into it. I’ll wait until you’re ready. But at least tell me what she was doing on the field today.
“She’s the school nurse.”
To his credit, Silas at least tries to act like he’s surprised by that. We both know he already knew, though. That gossip was all over town the day the board voted yes.
“That may be so,” he says, rubbing his chin. “But that still doesn’t explain what she was doing on the field. Or does the school nurse pay visits to the head football coach often now?”
There’s a glimmer in his eye when he asks, and I groan, knowing if I don’t put a stop to it, he will try to play matchmaker. I already have my mom for that. I don’t need him added to the antics.
“No, Silas. The school nurse doesn’t just pay visits to the football coach—at least not this one. I can’t say I know a lot about what MJ does in her free time nowadays. She was worried about one of my players and wanted to let me know.”
“Which one?”
“Tanner Sylvis.”
“Which one was he at practice today?”
“The quarterback.”
Silas grunts, coming to the same conclusion I did during practice. “What are you going to do about it?”
Shrugging, I say, “I don’t know yet. I’m still not convinced I’m right for this job. Remind me why I took it again?”
The old man hesitates before he answers me, weighing his words. “Because no matter how often the sport breaks you, parts of you still love it. I’m speaking from experience here.”
I know he is. It’s why I went to him when I was offered the position. If anyone understands my complicated relationship with football, it’s Silas.
“Sure, I’ve loved football since I was a kid, but that doesn’t mean I know how to help these kids. I don’t even know how to help myself most days.”
“Maybe you don’t, but someone does,” he says, flicking the ashes off his cigarette and pointing to the sky.
“You mean God? I don’t think he wants much to do with me anymore.”
“How do you know? You been to church lately?”
“Nah. Have you?”
He chuckles, the sound hoarse in his throat from years of smoking. “You know better than that, but I don’t need to find God in a pew, Hayes. I find him in all the little moments in my life. I might be a hellion, always have been, but I also know I’m more than my mistakes.”
Tilting my head back, I let the sun’s rays warm my face. “If you are so connected, tell me how to help these kids.”
Silas’s sigh is resigned as if he’s disappointed that I’m still not getting his point. “I can help you with their football skills, boy, but you have to figure out the rest on your own. If I step in, then you’ll never see what I do.”
“And what’s that?” I ask, scrubbing my hand over my jaw.
“That you are worthy of redemption.”