Page 94 of For Emery

“Nah. This is all me.”

“Coach called a team meeting.”

“Yeah?”

“He threatened us. Told us he’d bench our ass if we talked to the media or even each other about you. He said he’d know more tomorrow.”

“My uncle was supposed to call him.”

“Knowing Coach, he’d rather hear it from you.”

I nodded, before pushing myself up. “I’ll go see him.”

“Woah. What about her?”

The lines in my forehead deepened. “Who?”

He ticked his head toward the stairs. “Your girl.”

A relieved breath whooshed out of me as I raced up the stairs, two at a time. I froze when I pushed my bedroom door opened and found Em tucked into a ball and asleep on my bed. I could’ve watched her there forever; she looked so peaceful and safe. But since I knew she was exhausted, and also safe, I figured it would be okay if I slipped out to speak to Coach.

I grabbed a hat off my dresser and pulled it down low. I closed the door softly and crept downstairs. “Don’t leave her alone,” I ordered Abbott as I snuck out the back door and hopped the neighbor’s fence. Coach lived nearby, and the walk would probably serve me well.

Within a few minutes, I stood on the sidewalk outside his house. A single light shined in his first-floor window. I knew he had a wife and son and didn’t want to wake them if I rang the doorbell. But if I wanted to play, I needed to talk to the man with the power to make that happen.

I walked up the brick walkway and stopped on his front step. I listened for noise inside—a television maybe—but I heard nothing.

I tapped on the door and waited.

I glanced around at the quiet neighborhood. If I made it to the pros, would I live in a neighborhood like Coach’s or a quiet town like the one where I’d grown up?

The door cracked open and Coach stood there in sweats. “Grady?”

“I know it’s late, Coach, but I was hoping to speak to you.”

He peeked over his shoulder, probably checking to see if I woke up his family. Then he turned back to me and motioned me inside.

I stepped into his entry way as he closed the door behind us.

“Have a seat,” he said, walking into a formal living room that looked like it’d never been used.

I followed him and waited to see where he sat. When he sat in a winged-back chair, I sat on the sofa. The firm cushion beneath my ass did little to curb my nerves, but I knew being there was the right thing to do.

“First, let me ask,” Coach began. “Are you all right?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Then, let me ask, are you supposed to be talking to me?”

“No. But I thought it was best you heard the truth from me.”

He nodded and didn’t say anything else, which was my cue to begin.

“You asked me why I missed those practices a couple weeks ago, and I told you someone close to me was in trouble. You took me at my word and I really appreciated that.”

He nodded.

“It was my girlfriend’s mother. She was attacked and left for dead.”

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