Page 35 of Change Your Play

But I couldn’t forget the man I’d left behind.

Hours passed on the road. Miles and I were supposed to have an actual goodbye together, and I’d typed that away. With my headphones in, I gazed around my team, trying not to let my melancholy show. They were all pressed up against the bus’s windows, probably taking a look at another farm passing by. I smoothed down my skirt and held up a book I couldn’t concentrate enough to read.

It hurt. It hurt more than anything I’d ever known.

“Bennight?”

The muffled word made me glance up from my headphones. Coach Lawson stood over me, a concerned look on his face.

Oh, damn. I hadn’t hidden it well.

I pulled out my headphones. “Yes, sir?”

“Can we talk for a minute, kid?”

It wasn’t a good sign. I motioned him towards my space, sitting in front of a small table with my laptop and notes thrown around, opposite to the neat, tidy order that I usually kept everything.

Coach Lawson thumped to the seat next to me and pulled off his Romans cap, leaving it on the table.

He scratched his beard. “You know, if you got a problem with somebody, you tell me.”

“A problem?” I blinked. “Yes, of course.”

“If there was some knucklehead bothering you, I hope we got an understanding between us. You can’t let any of these airheads boss you around. If they do, they answer to me. I was under the impression that was crystal clear.”

“No, of course.”

“I thought you knew well enough about that, but I wanted to make it understood.”

“Of course. No, of course.”

I knew what line of work we were in. We worked with some of the most entitled, arrogant people every day, and I always held my ground with them, because I knew Coach Lawson would be right behind me, backing me up.

“Sir.” I nodded to him. “If I had a problem, I’d let you know. But there isn’t a problem. There’s nothing to tell.”

“And you’re sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then, what the hell is Miles Locke doing, driving alongside our fucking bus?”

16

Miles

It Was All You

I found the note.

It turns out, you can actually feel a heart crack.

With a dry throat and wild eyes, I passed our locker room, storming away from the assistant coaches. Everybody tried to stop me. We had some kind of preplanned interviews, but I couldn't care less.

The only thing that stopped me was Sullender's knowing grin in the parking lot.

And that bastard got what he deserved.

My thinking process was simple. I’d push my car’s engine to its limit, passing everyone else on the highway. I knew the Marrs bus would stop at a breakfast diner, gas station, or maybe a truck stop along the way. I just had to catch them at the right time.

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