Chapter 18
Hayes
Our first football game of the season is going up in flames.
Scrubbing my hand down my face, I try not to look at the scoreboard for the hundredth time. It’s not pretty, and I don’t need to look to know we’re losing, but like a moth drawn to a light, my eyes swivel to where the score reads 42-0.
I don’t know if I should be angry or just cry. I’m leaning toward the latter, seeing how these boys have played as if they were individuals and not a team. Every one of them will be running until they puke come Monday.
We turn the ball over with an interception for the hundredth time this game, and Tanner Sylvis walks off the field, throwing his helmet to the ground.
“Pick it up,” I say, my voice deadly.
“Whatever, man,” he says, walking away from the helmet on the turf.
I can hear my heart thundering in my ears. Grabbing him by the back of the pads, I jerk him back.
“Get off me,” he yells, trying to get out of my hold, but I keep my grip tight.
“I am the coach of this team, and as such, that’s my equipment you just threw. So you either pick that up right now, or you don’t bother coming back to practice on Monday,” I say, letting go of his pads. “Your choice.”
He looks at me like he could run through me, but I just shrug, refusing to let him see how angry I am.
It’s no skin off my back if he doesn’t come back—it would probably make this job easier. Tanner has been the leader of bad attitudes on this team, and I’m sick of it. But at the same time, I can hear MJ’s voice whispering in my head that she’s concerned about the kid. I don’t want to write him off.
Luckily, I don’t have to push him further because he grabs the helmet off the ground, albeit violently.
The final buzzer sounds, and I blow out the breath I’ve held since the game began.
“Well, that was ugly,” Campbell says, cheerfully slapping me on the back.
“Yes–yes, it was.”
“Ah, come on, Hayes, we’ll get better. It was the first game, and we’ve hardly had any practices. We’ll get better.”
He’s right—we will, but I’m not worried about winning games. I’m worried about how I’m going to help these kids see that life is bigger than their time here on the football field—especially Tanner. The kid’s temper blazes hotter than a wildfire, and from what I can see, most of it stems from this game.
The locker room is quiet when we walk in, each boy brimming the tension of this loss. Tanner is on the other side of the room, sitting on the bench and refusing to look at anyone. His teammates are stripping off their pads. A few of them are grumbling about plays that didn’t work out during the game, but the others are content to remain quiet.
“Have a seat.” It’s a command. I’m not asking. I’ve reached my limit with these boys and their attitudes, and it’s changing tonight.
They must realize it because they all sit except for Tanner.
I turn toward him, fire licking through my veins.
“You get one more chance.” There’s ice in my voice.
“Or what? You’ll kick me off the team? You might have threatened it out there, but we both know you need me.”
My smile is cold as I take him in. I want to help him, but the first step in helping him is for him to realize that he isn’t invincible. Langston never learned that lesson until it was too late.
“I think you’ll find I don’t need you half as much as you need me. So take a seat or leave.”
His eyes burn with hatred—not just at me, but the world.
What has this kid gone through to make him so angry?
As much as I want to know the answer to that question, the only way I’ll ever get the truth is to build a relationship with him where he recognizes that I won’t cower from his attitude. As a cop, I’ve seen it time and time again. Sometimes, people just need boundaries they’ve never had set for them, and when they recognize they can’t push past those boundaries, their honesty comes out.
“Wait until I tell my stepdad about this. I’m sure your job is already in hot water with the loss tonight,” he smarts off but sits down anyway. And that’s really all I care about—baby steps.
Tanner’s glaring at me as he sits, and I maintain eye contact with him the whole time. Then I smile, making sure that it shows my teeth. “You’ll find, Tanner Sylvis, that I’m not half as scared of Eric Westbrook as he thinks I am. So go ahead—tell him. But at least for this season, this is my team, and you will do as I ask or go play for someone else. It’s that simple.”
I don’t bother watching him when I’m finished. I turn to the other boys, who have been watching the interaction with wide eyes. This right here is part of why I need to get things sorted out with Tanner. Whether he realizes it or not, he’s a leader for this team. The boys take their cues from him.
Is that why he’s so angry? Is the pressure too much for him like it was for Langston?
The thought hits me like a ton of bricks. The weight of a team can be heavy. Add on the pressure I saw from his stepdad at the board meeting, and that’s a lot for one kid to carry.
Mulling it over, I tap my clipboard against my leg. Campbell is standing beside me but hasn’t said a word. He’s giving me room to be the head coach of this team, and I appreciate that. But man, do I wish I had his ability to connect with people right about now.
He gives an imperceptible tilt of his head towards the boys, urging me to make some kind of speech that will raise their spirits, but everything I have to say right now seems minimal to the miles we still have to travel.
Frustrated, I drop my clipboard to the bench beside me.
“Boys—” I say, addressing them all. “That was ugly. Plain and simple—but not for the reasons you think. As your coach, I think I failed you before this game because I didn’t make my expectations clear, and for that, I apologize. But I’m going to make them clear now, so listen up. I don’t care if we win a game all season. That’s not what I’m here for. I know the talent that each of you possesses, but talent will only take you so far. My goal for you this year is to help you grow as men, and if that means we have to lose every game to do so—then so be it. Tonight’s game did not reflect the type of men you can be, but we’re going to change that. Your junior varsity players will play next week’s game and every other game until further notice. You want to play? Earn your spot.”
A cry of outrage resounds around the locker room.
One of the linemen jumps up from the bench. “That’s not fair. We’re seniors.”
I stare him down. “I don’t care what grade you’re in. As of right now, you are all benched. Earn it back. Prove to me you are worth being men on this team, and I don’t just mean at practice either.”
“Then how do you expect us to earn our spots?” Tanner asks.
“I’m so glad you asked, Tanner. This week, I have been in contact with your teachers. It seems that two weeks into school, and we are already goofing off. Many of you are skipping classes and not doing the work you’re asked to do. Add that to the grades you received last year, and let’s just say I’m not happy. So not only will I be watching your grades carefully, but I have people throughout the school who will be watching you—not just teachers. Learn to be men—leaders—in your school, and we will talk about your playing time. Until then, you are free to go.”
No one says anything as I walk toward my office in the corner of the locker room. It’s not until I’m about to close the door that I hear Tanner say, “Man, this is bull.”
It’s my final straw for tonight.
“Tanner—my office. Now.”
I don’t bother looking back to see if he obeys. Campbell posts up against the back wall, leaning his shoulder against it as I take a seat at my desk.
“Cool, man. Stay cool,” Campbell says just before Tanner bursts into the office.
“From now until I say otherwise, you have practice every Saturday bright and early.”
He narrows his eyes. “What if I don’t come?”
“I guess you’ll have to wait and see. Now get out of my office,” I say, not looking up at him. I’m barely holding on to my anger right now. I need to get out of here so I can take a deep breath and reset.
Tanner doesn’t say anything when he leaves, but I worry the window will shatter when he slams the door so hard it reverberates against the jam.
Campbell is still leaning against the back wall, and when I look up at him, he smiles. “Well, that was fun.”
“Yeah, Campbell, about as fun as pulling teeth.”
______________________
Hayes: Come outside.
MJ: Who dis?
Hayes: MJ, don’t pretend you haven’t had my number memorized since you were thirteen and stole it from your brother’s phone.
MJ: You can’t prove that.
Hayes: (eye roll) Just get out here.
MJ: You know they make an actual emoji for that, right? Like you don’t have to spell it out. Why are you so old?
Hayes: I’m a year older than you.
MJ: That may as well be the difference of a hundred years.
Hayes: Mallorie Jade
MJ: Oh look, the big scary police officer is using my real name. I’m shaking.
Hayes: I’m leaving.
MJ: No, wait—I’m coming.
The Harrisons’ front door opens, and MJ steps out into the night. The sight of her nearly steals my breath away. She looks like she was getting ready for bed with sleep shorts and a hoodie. A flash of what it would be like if we were married hits me right in the chest. My grip on the steering wheel tightens as I try to blink it away.
Her red hair falls around her shoulder, a beacon in the night.
A cold chill runs through my blood as I stare at her and wish not for the first time that things were different.
She pads towards my truck barefoot, and it reminds me of all the times she would run outside without her shoes, only to be yelled at by her mom when she came back in. MJ never could figure out how to be a lady, much to her mom’s dismay, but it never bothered me.
“It’s past my curfew. I’ll get in trouble for sneaking out,” she snickers as she opens her door and hops into my truck.
I roll my eyes. “You didn’t care about your curfew even when you did have one. Something tells me that hasn’t changed.
Her smile is filled with trouble, and it nearly makes me drunk.
“You’re right. It hasn’t. Why did you call me out here?”
The question sobers me.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said about Tanner.”
“And?” She’s trying to play it cool, but I see the way she’s clutching the edges of her shorts. She’s worried about the kid, and I was a jerk to pass it off as nothing when she told me about it. She had to deal with her brother dying because of the pressures he was under because of a stupid sport. No matter what’s happened between us or how guilty we both feel over that death, I should have listened to her.
“I think you were right to want to keep an eye on him.”
“I didn’t want to be right,” she whispers into the night.
The sadness in her voice tears me in two. Without thinking, I reach out and pull her toward me. Her head falls against my shoulder, and for the first time in six years, it doesn’t feel like the world is crushing me. But I know it’s only temporary. There’s no place for MJ and me anymore. There was a time when we protected each other, but those times are long gone. For tonight, though, I can pretend.
“I know you didn’t,” I say, stroking my hand against her hair. The strands are like silk against my rough callouses, reminding us that we have always been from different worlds. She’s silk, and I’m cotton.
“Can you, um—tell me why you think that?”
I sigh, keeping my hands steady as I continue to stroke her hair. This isn’t an easy topic for either of us, but if I could go back and see things through a new lens with Langston, I would—and I know she would, too.
“There were several things actually, but honestly, none of them remind me of the things Langston used to do. I’m almost positive the kid isn’t drinking.”
Until now, she’s been tense against me, but at that, I feel her let out her breath. What I don’t say, though, is I don’t think he’s drinking—yet. Langston never drank either until he did, but the problem was no one knew he was drinking until it was too late to save him. Choosing to leave that part out, I continue, “The kid has anger issues—major ones, but I did some research. I talked to Lily about Tanner’s behavior, and then I spoke with some of my old coaches and trainers. It seems that Tanner’s attitude change started shortly after his concussion. Lily couldn’t tell me much, but apparently, it was a major one. The doctors cleared him, though. I had to make sure for the team. He got a full bill of health at a physical this summer. But—what doctors don’t check for is the depression that can occur after a major concussion. Do you know what post-concussion syndrome is?”
MJ sits up, pulling away from my arms and giving me a look that screams, “Really.”
“I’m a nurse, Hayes—of course, I know what that is.”
I grimace. “Right, sorry. It’s easy for me to forget that—after all, it’s never a path you wanted to go down.”
“Yeah, well, people change.”
Resting my hands on the steering wheel, I stare straight ahead because don’t I know it. I feel like I’ve been a thousand people in this lifetime, and I still don’t know who I’m supposed to be.
Langston died, and that tragedy took my identity with it.
“Anyway,” I say, trying to shake the sudden cold that’s come over me now that she’s no longer pressed to my side. “The headaches and the depression make me wonder—and from just knowing Eric, I would say that his home environment doesn’t contribute to a peaceful environment either. So yes, I think the kid is on a path of self-destruction.”
“What are we going to do about it?” she asks, sitting taller in the seat next to me.
I like that she said we—that it was an automatic assumption that we would do this together.
“I have an idea. Meet me at the field tomorrow. Six A.M..”
“Six in the morning? Are you crazy?” she asks, glaring at me.
The truth is, I could have chosen a later time, but MJ hates getting up early. So, I chose the time that was most likely to get under her skin.
“Look, I told the kid I wanted to do one-on-one practices with him. It’s what our coach did for your brother in high school, and it’s what I’m doing now. It will allow me to cultivate a relationship with him. But, I would like you there just in case.”
There’s a split second where I think she will say no, but she presses her lips together and nods.
“Okay, I’ll be there, but you owe me coffee.”
“You broke my nose. I think we are even.”
A grin breaks across her face, and she winks at me—actually winks at me. “Exactly, and think about what I will do if I don’t have my coffee in the morning.”
Then she’s out the door, slamming it behind her, and I’m left wondering if the woman will be the death of my sanity. Unfortunately, the likely answer is yes.
The real answer, though, is that she already is.