Page 36 of SALT

Of course I blame myself for his accident. It was my favor that made him late, that made him take a different route. My request put him in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's yet another unforgivable reason I can't be anything Cameron needs. How could I ever ask for her heart when I'm the reason it's broken?

"It sounds like you know why nothing can ever happen, so if we're done here, I need to get to practice," I say as I pop the trunk and start toward the back to grab my bag.

"I'm done. I've said my piece, but I'll leave you with this. When you find the person you're meant to be with, none of what I've said matters because they are your reason for existing. The rest will work itself out."

He rasps his knuckles on the roof of my car. "Keep your phone on you today. I'm expecting to have more information this afternoon."

I nod as I close the trunk. There's no point in asking him what lead he's following. He won't tell me anyway. He has a habit of keeping shit close until he knows for sure he's right. Colton is the one who will spitball with you and give you a rundown of every possible outcome he thinks could exist, which is the polar opposite of Garrett.

My phone vibrates in my pocket as I reach the entrance.

Lauren: Can I swing by your place tonight? We need to talk.

You've got to be kidding me. The last thing I need is for Lauren to stop by the house, but I also have reason to keep her close.

Everett: 6 p.m.

I keep it short and concise, as if that somehow excuses the acceptance.

Lauren: I'll bring dinner.

Great. I'm so fucking screwed.

"Everett, are you going to be good for the game this weekend?" Coach Teague asks, gripping my shoulder as I down my Gatorade.

"Yeah, why?" I ask, hearing the strain in my voice.

"You look tired, is all. You realize most coaches don't run through the exercises with their teams, right? I think you've more than shown the boys that you're dedicated to helping them grow this season. You don't have to prove anything."

In the beginning, I felt like I had something to prove. I'm old enough to be their dad, and I've sat behind a desk for almost as long as they've been alive. So yeah, I had something to prove; but even before I took over for Connor, I trained every day. It just looked different than it does now. My physical health has always been a priority. Aging sucks, but if you take care of your body, it will take care of you, and training alongside guys half my age and going harder for longer has put wind in my sails.

"I'm not trying to prove anything to them. Not anymore. They looked good out there today," I say as I stand up and grab my board.

"Yeah, I think Parker has real potential to be a standout this season when he's not in his own way."

"I'll see if he's ready to talk."

It's no secret he has an issue with me, but I know he hasn't been running his mouth about it either. This is a small town, people talk. If he was talking, there's no way in hell whatever story he's spinning wouldn't have made its way back to me by now.

"See you bright and early tomorrow. Salt said uniforms will be in, and I figured it's best to make sure they fit before the guys get sweaty."

I toss my bag over my shoulder and try to keep my tone indifferent when I'm anything but. "She gave you her number?"

"What? No, some of us take bathroom breaks. I ran into her about an hour ago when you were running triangle drills. Side note: I know the guys think they are beyond those, but it's smart. They're all great players but being great individually doesn't make you great as a team."

"Yeah, my fear with leagues like this is everyone wants to be the standout, and they sacrifice the team for their own gain because, for some of them, it's their last shot. Their last year to play," I say as we walk up the tunnel.

"I thought the same thing when I started coaching these leagues two years ago, but I haven't run into that yet. That has a lot to do with Connor. On the first day of tryouts, he goes over the mission statement and drives home why the team exists, reiterating that if the players give him their all, he'll do the same. Each year, we have a handful of kids walk after that speech, and the ones who have stayed give everything."

"Let's hope this isn't the season that changes."

An unmistakable laugh catches my attention as we enter the concourse, and I see Cameron sitting on a bench, talking to a guy with a helmet in his hands. What little pent-up stress I was able to work out during practice is now back tenfold. That has to be the biker fuck that dropped her off last night.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I say, not waiting for a response before marching across the concourse. There's no way in hell she's leaving with him.

"Everett." She does a double take when she realizes it's me. "This is Nash. Nash, this is Everett, Connor's dad."

"Nice to meet you, sir," he says, extending his hand for me to shake, which I do so begrudgingly. I don't like that he just called me sir, nor do I like being introduced as Connor's father, at least not when every fiber of my being feels like something else to her.

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