Chapter 19
Mallorie Jade
It’s six AM on a Saturday.
IT. IS. SIX. AM. ON. A. SATURDAY.
I’m going to strangle Hayes. He knows how much I like to sleep, yet here we are on a perfect sleeping morning, decidedly not asleep.
But the joke is on him. He knows how grumpy I can be when I haven’t gotten sleep, and today, I’m extra grumpy because I can hardly breathe from all the humidity.
Even at six in the morning, the heat is almost stifling. We are closer to fall than summer, so why is it still so hot?
The gate to the field is unlocked, and I slip through, trying not to think about the day Langston and Hayes signed their futures away—a day that seemed to have started the downward spiral for Langston, Hayes, and me. If I had known what would come after that day, I might have tried to do things differently—thrown Langston under the bus for his own good. But the past can’t be changed, even if the guilt lasts forever.
My head is down while I walk towards the field, and when I look up, I stop in my tracks. My bad mood seems to vanish into thin air—at least for now.
Hayes is on the field running sprints. He is wearing athletic shorts, and his shirt is MIA. His tanned back glistens with sweat as he pushes himself further down the field away from me. The muscles in his back ripple with each movement, hypnotizing me. My eyes shift side to side, making sure we are alone. I don’t need any of my students catching me drooling over their coach. When I confirm that no one else is around, I return to ogling. The man has always had the body of an athlete, but goodness gracious, he looks like a work of art as he speeds down the field, reminding me why he was given a full ride in college.
He reaches the end of the field, then turns, heading back toward me. I should look away. His head will grow three sizes bigger than it already is if he catches me staring, but when he veers toward me, I know it’s already too late.
Why do I always find myself standing in the middle of trouble?
Glancing up for a fraction of a second, I mumble a half-hearted prayer. “Couldn’t you have given me some self-preservation, God?”
The sun peeks out from behind a cloud, making the heat kick up an extra degree. Whoever said God didn’t have a sense of humor is wrong—my life is an example. Or maybe I’ve just screwed up so many times I’ve brought it on myself.
As Hayes draws closer, his eyes remain on me. It’s like we’ve been sucked into a vacuum of space in which it’s only us that exist. The heat in his eyes rivals the temperature outside, and I’m suddenly sweating for a different reason.
Clearing my throat, I pull my eyes away from him to the ground. But I can feel him approaching. Yard by yard, his shoes pound against the turf, and I count each step until he’s finally standing in front of me, and I’m staring at his shoes. I lift my eyes, only to look past him. He’s like a magnetic field—if I get too close, I’ll be sucked in.
“Where’s Tanner?” I ask.
The shoulder I’m looking past rises and falls. “He won’t be here until eight.”
“What?” It comes out a lot louder than I intended. My eyes snap to his, and there’s a smug, self-satisfied grin on his lips. “Why did I have to be here so early then?”
The smirk on his lips grows wider. “Payback for the nose.”
He says it so casually, like it’s the simplest explanation in the world, and if anyone ever asks later, it’s the moment I lose all my sanity.
I flash him a sweet smile, and wariness flashes through his eyes.
He looks a little scared.
Good. He should be.
With my shoulders lowered just like he and Langston taught me when I was ten, I rush at him, catching him off guard and tackling him. His mouth opens in shock as we fall, and he wraps his arms around me so I fall on top of him instead of hitting the ground. The muscles in his arms are like steel traps, hugging me to him as we hit the ground, knocking the wind out of both of us.
Neither of us moves for a second, too stunned to do anything. Our legs are tangled in a jumbled heap, and the heat of his skin seeps in through my shirt. Hayes’s ribs move up and down beneath me, gasping for air.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I say, the words flowing together as I rush to get them out. “I shouldn’t have done that. Did I hurt you?”
My hands and eyes rove over his ribs and back, searching for other injuries, but a snort stills my hands and has my eyes jumping to his.
Hayes is still gasping for air, but not from me hurting him.
It takes another snort for me to realize he’s laughing at me.
I slap his chest. “You jerk. I thought you were hurt.”
That only causes him to laugh harder. “Dang, MJ. Who taught you to tackle like that? Oh, right. It was me.”
“Shut up,” I say, slapping his chest again, except this time, when my hand meets the warm skin there, it hits me that he didn’t put his shirt back on.
Scrambling off of him, I stand, offer him my hand, and try to hide my face so he can’t see how red my cheeks are. He takes it and pulls himself up.
But he should have stayed down because any humor I’d found in the situation vanishes once he’s standing. My eyes zero in on the black ink etched onto his ribs. Going down the muscles on his side, three delicate butterflies flap their wings, but it’s not just the butterflies that hold my attention. No, it’s how my name is delicately woven down his ribs in a straight line until it ends above the line of his shorts.
I can’t bring myself to look up at him or even ask the question.
I’m frozen.
“It’s not what you think.” Hayes’s voice is raspy, like my name on his skin is just as much a shock to him as it is to me.
“You don’t know what I’m thinking,” I say, still transfixed on the lines of my name.
He grunts, and I can imagine his lips pressing together in disapproval, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t pull my gaze from his side.
“I guarantee I can tell you what you’re thinking.” The words are so cocky that it nearly makes me snort, and finally, I meet him head-on. Just like I imagined, his lips are pinched into a firm line, my favorite muscle in his jaw jumping as he grits his teeth.
“Then tell me, Hayes—what is it that you think is going through my mind?” There’s anger and sadness and hope and—something else I won’t acknowledge, swirling inside me as I wait for him to answer.
That muscle jumps again. “You think it means I’m in love with you.”
It’s almost comical how wrong he is—no, that’s not what I was thinking at all.
No part of me still believes he’s in love with me, not even the delusional parts.
The tattoo looks like a memorial for a girl who is still alive, standing right in front of him. But I guess more than Langston died six years ago, a piece of Hayes and I did, too. Then, our relationship cracked until the fissure was too big for us to cross.
Instead of letting him see how badly that breaks me, I smirk and say, “You caught me, Hayes. That’s exactly what I think.”
Unfortunately, there’s a sadness in my voice that I can’t hide.
“MJ—” Hayes starts, his face turning somber.
But I plaster on a smile and interrupt him before he can say something that will break me further. “Did you bring me the coffee I requested?”
He stays silent for a moment, watching me carefully, but then he nods and says, “Yeah, it’s over here.”
I follow him over to the bench on the sideline, trying to think of what to say that will lighten the mood, but for all the rounds I can usually go with Hayes, nothing comes to mind now. And man, I wished it would because maybe then that tattoo wouldn’t be like a blaring beacon of all the mistakes I’ve made in my life.
Once at the bench, he reaches down and produces an iced coffee that swirls with cream and sugar.
“You, sir, are my hero.”
“No—but I wish I could have been.”
“Me too, Hayes.”
______________________
We sit in silence for the next hour and a half as we wait for Tanner, me sipping on the iced coffee, and him flipping through a playbook.
Ten minutes after eight, he shows up with his equipment bag slung over his shoulder. His pace is sure and confident, but the set of his shoulders tells a different story.
Tanner reaches us, and Hayes stands to greet him. The hatred on Tanner’s face is palpable.
“Thanks for coming,” Hayes says. He has a football in his hand and is flicking it end to end and catching it. He is trying to appear casual and non-threatening to this kid, who looks like he finds life itself a threat. “You remember MJ?”
Hayes dips his head toward me, and Tanner follows the movement. If he’s surprised that I’m here, he doesn’t show it.
“I don’t care,” Tanner says, dumping his equipment on the ground. “It’s not like I have any choice in being here.”
To his credit, Hayes doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, he flicks his gaze to the sky as if praying for patience.
This situation is not funny, but I still have to press my lips together to keep from laughing. This kid is going to be a handful, but it might be fun watching someone else besides me press Hayes’s buttons.
When he has himself under control, Hayes looks back at Tanner, but Tanner meets his stare, defiance written on his face.
I’m worried the two will stand here staring at each other all day when a voice calls Tanner’s name from across the field.
“Tanner—hey, Tanner.”
A groan elicits from Tanner’s chest, and I try not to smile when I see Bella running across the field, her long hair blowing behind her and her instrument case in her hand.
“This girl will not leave me alone,” Tanner mutters before Bella closes in on us.
Bella is puffing air by the time she’s in front of us, and she bends over, placing her hands on her knees to catch her breath.
She twists her head to look up at me and smiles. “Oh, hi, MJ. I didn’t realize you were here.”
I grin back at her. “Hi, Bella. How’s it going?”
“Oh, you know, just fulfilling promises,” she says, giving Tanner a quick side eye with her hands still on her knees. “I had band practice this morning and saw you guys on my way out. So, I thought I would stop in and say hi.”
The snort that leaves my nose is anything but ladylike. My mom should be horrified, but Bella has been trying to befriend Tanner since that first day of school.
For the most part, he ignores her, but every once in a while, I catch him looking at her out of the corner of his eye. When I asked Bella why she keeps trying to be his friend, she slapped her hands on her hips and said, “Because God doesn’t give up on the lost, and neither will I.”
That’s how I received a life lesson from a fifteen-year-old. From that day forward, I decided to sit back and watch because maybe if God can find Tanner where he’s at, through the mouth of a girl who believes him without question, he can find me, too.
Bella ignores my snort, and Tanner only glowers harder. Hayes stands beside me, eyes bouncing between the three of us. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Instead of letting the awkwardness fester, I say, “Bella, this is my friend Hayes. He coaches the football team.”
Bella wiggles her eyebrows and gives me an exaggerated wink. “Oh, I know who he is.”
Slapping my hand over my mouth, I try to hold back my laugh, but Hayes’s face is too funny. His mouth opens and closes, gaping like a fish, and it only causes me to laugh harder.
I’m holding onto my sides when Hayes mumbles, so only I can hear, “I’m glad you think this is funny.”
At this point, I can’t breathe.
Bella gives us a funny look, like we’ve lost our minds, then turns to Tanner. “Have you been ignoring me?”
“Every chance I get,” Tanner grumbles.
“That’s okay, I’ll wear you down. You just wait. By the end of the year, we are going to be best friends.” She pats him on the arm, her signature smile on her face, then spins on her heel, bouncing off the field the way she came.
Hayes still looks confused and turns to me, asking, “Who was that?”
“That was Bella. She’s—spirited.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Hayes says at the same time Tanner says, “More like crazy.”
With Bella gone, Hayes’s face turns serious again.
“Well, on that positive note, let’s get started,” Hayes says with false cheer. “You won’t be needing that equipment—not in the way you’re thinking, at least.”
Tanner keeps his face blank, trying to appear bored, but there’s a curiosity stirring beneath it. “What do you mean? I thought I was here to practice?”
“You are. We are going to practice having a better attitude.” Hayes’s answering grin is so bright that even I want to smack him. Although, it’s nice to know he’s good at pushing other people’s buttons, not just mine.
“No way, man,” Tanner says, crossing his arms and standing tall. When he does that, he’s almost the same height as Hayes, but where Tanner is all boy, Hayes is hard lines and masculine. “I came here to practice—not whatever this is.”
The smile drops from Hayes’s face and becomes stone. No wonder he’s a good cop. Most criminals would turn themselves in from that face alone.
“I’ll tell you like I told you at the game. The way I see it, you have two options. One, walk out that gate,” Hayes says, dipping his head towards the gate that leads to the parking lot. “If you walk out that gate, though, you’re done. You won’t be on my team. Your second option is to realize that you and I are on the same team. We both want what’s best for you. It’s up to you to decide which option you choose.”
I hold my breath, biting the inside of my jaw while I wait for Tanner to walk away—to take the option that’s easier for him—but Tanner clenches his jaw and remains standing in front of Hayes, making his choice clear.
The air rushes out of my lungs, relief flooding me.
We can’t fail this kid.
He’s been in my office almost every day with a headache. I’ve attempted to reach out to his mom to express my concern, but she waved me off like it was no big deal.
Tanner deserves someone who cares about him.
“Right,” Hayes says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get started then. Here are my rules—no partying, drinking, or smoking. I’ve already said that on the first day of practice, but you seem to have a hard time listening when I speak. So, I’m going to reiterate that. You are automatically off the team if I catch you doing any of those. MJ says you’ve been experiencing headaches. If those continue, I am the first to know. We are going to keep a log of how often they are happening. This last one is the most important, though—you can trust me. But I also realize I haven’t earned that yet, so I’m asking that we earn each other’s trust. You don’t do anything to break mine, and I won’t break yours either. Football is just a game to me, La—Tanner. I care more about the person you are. Do you understand?”
Even though he caught himself, the slip of almost saying Langston’s name makes this real for me. We are doing this again—trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.
Tanner’s eyes dart around the field, searching for a way to escape this, but finds none. “Fine.”
“Good. Now, that’s the second time I’ve seen you throw your equipment around. So, let’s start there. I had the other boys drop their helmets off after the game. For the rest of this practice, we are scrubbing helmets.”
“This is bull—” Tanner starts, but Hayes slices him with a glare, and he pinches his lips together.
For the next hour and a half, we scrub helmets until they gleam and my fingers ache.
Hayes doesn’t make Tanner do it alone. We do it together, working side by side.
“How’s school going, Tanner?” I ask, trying to strike up a conversation.
He shrugs. I try again.
“Are you liking your classes?”
Another shrug. “School is school.”
I meet Hayes’s eyes and tilt my head toward Tanner. He widens his, silently asking me what I want him to do.
I swear, I think men are intentionally obtuse sometimes.
“You know,” I say, scrubbing at a grass stain on one of the white helmets, “I used to help my brother do this when we were in school. He taught me everything I know.”
Beside me, Hayes scoffs.
“Got something to say, Coach?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow.
A spark of humor flits through Hayes’s gaze, something we haven’t shared in a long time.
“Just that I think your memory is a little lacking when it comes to who taught you everything. Langston might have taught you some things, but not everything.”
Tanner stops scrubbing and studies me. “Wait, your brother was Langston Harrison?”
The hero-worship in his voice is clear, and it makes me uneasy. It’s not that I don’t want people to remember Langston, but I hate that his memory is wrapped up in the two worst things about him—football and his death.
When people remember him, they only remember his football career or how he died—never the person he was.
Swallowing hard, I bring my attention back to Tanner. “Yup, that was him.”
“Man, that guy was a legend. I can only hope to be half the player he was—maybe then I could get something right.”
Hayes flicks his gaze to me.
Good, he caught that too.
Hayes turns his attention back to the helmet in his hand, trying to act casual. But I can see the tension in his shoulders—things just got a lot more serious.
There has to be a careful balance here. If it looks like Hayes cares too much—like he’s trying to push this kid further than he’s willing to give—Tanner will spook and shut down. It’s what Langston did whenever we tried to talk to him.
“What do you mean get something right, Tanner?” Hayes asks, keeping his gaze on the helmet.
“Nothing—just forget it,” Tanner says, scrubbing at the helmet a little harder than he was before.
At this point, Hayes sets his helmet aside and leans forward to rest his elbows against his knees.
“You remember what I said about trust, right?”
Tanner grinds his teeth. “Yeah—only adults are good at saying that, and then you screw up a couple of times, and they never look at you the same.”
It’s like he cracked my life open and summed it up in one go. I’ve been a disappointment most of my life, and I always needed someone there to tell me I wasn’t—only I never got that. But I can be that for Tanner.
“Tanner,” I start, “sometimes adults make mistakes that have nothing to do with the person you are. I know that’s hard to see right now, but I promise one day you will. In the meantime, it doesn’t make you a screw-up. You just have to be the best version of yourself for yourself—not the person you think other people need.”
“Easier said than done,” he mumbles, and from the way his face shuts down, I won’t push this conversation any further. He needs time to process—and proof that not all adults are going to let him down.
It makes me wonder what he’s experiencing at home because no one would have guessed the pressures that were being put on Langston’s shoulders by our parents.
Is that happening here, too, or is it something else?