Page 35 of The One I Left Behind

Greer is the assistant coach, and sure, he might tip the bottle a little too much, but he always shows up for practices and games regardless of his condition.

Coach Marks stares at me unwaveringly. He’s not the type of man who ever speaks ill of anyone, especially a man who has stood by his side when Willowbrook wasn’t playing great. But he’s obviously not comfortable with Greer as the head coach.

“I’m not a coach. I don’t even know what to do,” I say.

“Bullshit. You’re more qualified than me.”

I laugh at the absurdity of his words. “No one can fill your shoes.”

His cheeks flush. “Thanks for the kind words, Benny, but you can fill them. Now, I don’t want to guilt-trip you into it, but I did help get you into the league.” His face widens into an ear-to-ear grin. “It would be a nice way for you to pay me back.”

I’ve seen firsthand the way this town can turn if the Wildcats play badly, and I don’t want the scrutiny. But how do I tell this man, whom I do feel I owe so much, no? Especially since nothing else has panned out so far. My agent said the analyst job isn’t looking great right now. And I am sick of being the errand boy for my family—except for the part where they put me in line with Gillian.

Gillian.

If I stay in Willowbrook a little longer, it gives me time with her. I’m not sure what I want to happen between us. I want her to forgive me, and I want her friendship again, but deep down, I know I want more. It’s a hard pill to swallow that I might not get that chance again. That I fucked it up all those years ago, and there’s no coming back from it. Sure, she made her decisions after we broke up, but if I’d never screwed it up with her in the first place, things would be so different now. It’s complicated as hell, but she’s the number one reason to stay in Willowbrook.

“Okay,” I say, Gillian’s face front and center in my mind. “I’ll do it, but only until you’re well enough to come back. And I expect hourly phone calls so you can tell me what the hell to do.”

His stomach jiggles with his laughter, and he puts out his big, meaty hand. “Thanks, Benny, I owe you one.”

I slide my hand into his, standing to my feet. “I’m just paying you back. But you better get better.”

“I knew all those naysayers who said you’d abandoned us were wrong. You’ll always be a Willowbrook Wildcat.” He pats my chest over my heart.

I blink, his words soaking in. Everyone in this town felt abandoned.

I don’t say anything, and he hits the call button, asking for a pad of paper and a pen. For the next hour, he draws up plays and tells me exactly how to conduct the camps coming up next week.

Chapter Twelve

Gillian

Coach Marks was transported to Lincoln for bypass surgery, which apparently went well. He’s been healing at home before he starts his cardiac rehab. It’s left Ben busy, which has been great because that means he hasn’t had time to bother me. I’ve only run into him once, and that was when I was at The Harvest Depot on the ranch, so I can’t exactly blame him for stalking me.

I’d say we can coexist in this town, except for the fact that every time I see a Plain Daisy Ranch truck, I do a double take to see if it’s Ben. The disappointment that follows isn’t a good sign.

Now I sit in a stiff plastic chair in the high school cafeteria. I loathe the booster club. It’s not really a choice when you live in a small town like ours. The majority of people want to help out our athletes and if your kid plays a sport, whether they’ve reached high school yet or not, you’re a member of the booster club. I’ve been fortunate that they gave me a pass since I was in law school so, I haven’t had to organize any tasks. Not that they gave me any slack on my time working the concession stands.

“Let’s begin the meeting,” Alondra announces, standing at the small podium with a microphone.

I glance around the barely-filled cafeteria. Not sure why we need a microphone, but that’s Alondra. She’s mom of the year. The one who knows everything that’s going on. The one who packs her kids a nutritious lunch with those cute containers that separate their sandwich from their third serving of fruit for the day. She probably wakes up early and makes a full breakfast since it’s the most important meal of the day. But it’s good that she’s in charge. Women like her are who booster clubs were built to be run by. If I were in charge, our players would probably be in ten-year-old uniforms with rips and insufferable smells.

“We’ve all heard the news about Coach Marks.” She lowers her head as if she’s saying a quick prayer. When her head perks up, her usual Stepford wife smile is in place. Rarely have I seen a genuinely happy grin on Alondra. “Thankfully, Ben Noughton has agreed to take over the team.”

Everyone claps. Feeling eyes on me, I clap as well, though with less enthusiasm than everyone else.

“I know, right? Grayson is so excited to be coached by such a big name in football.”

If I didn’t have to worry about someone seeing me, I’d stick my finger down my throat and gag.

Alondra looks over the crowd of women and a sprinkle of men, then toward the door, her smile growing with every second. Everyone turns and follows her line of sight.

“And I asked him to come and speak to us today.” She holds out her hand, and everyone claps as if the President of the United States is about to give the State of the Union address.

What is going on right now?

Ben walks down the aisle between the chairs, some of the men holding their hands out for high fives. This is ridiculous.

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