Page 67 of Ready to Score

“It took you long enough.” Leo’s tone was low but playful.

Jade expected her friend to respond with something snarky, maybe pinch the man on the ass and tell him to stay out of grown women’s conversations. But clearly, Jade was projecting hard. Instead, Miri put a hand on his lightly stubbled cheek, dragging herthumb over the brown skin there, before leaning up a bit to press a kiss to his lips. The couple lingered in the moment for a few seconds, as if completely unaware they were being watched, before they separated.

When Miri spoke again, it was to Jade. “All that stubbornness ended up just being me putting off my own happiness anyway.”

Jade took Miri in. Her dark brown skin glowed from the inside, and her brown eyes were just as bright. Everything about her, from the dark orange on her long nails to the white halter top she wore, was vivid. Her best friend had always been somewhat larger-than-life. Funny and outgoing. Well and truly confident. Even at her lowest, Miri had served as a beacon of inspiration. Jade had always looked up to her, no matter their lack of age difference. Miri had also been through hell and back. Life had dealt her hands hard enough to make anyone crumble. And it wasn’t that Miri never had. It was just that she’d always managed to come back. She’d always managed to keep hold of who she was. And now, in the prime of her life, Miri had a loving, nurturing relationship, a beautiful home, a life. A good life. One that she’d cultivated and fought for.

All because she’d believed that she deserved it.

Jade knew she deserved that head coach spot. But she deserved more than that too. Love and connection. The very life that she’d convinced herself was better to put off to the side.

She needed to ask herself how much longer she was willing to make those concessions. Sitting there, seeing what Miri had—what she’d made—didn’t make her jealous. Not in that nasty, envious way that burned hot and ugly.

It was more of a restlessness she felt. A longing.

And something that seemed an awful lot like resolve.

22

Tuesday, July 25, was a nasty day. Barely sixty-five degrees, with a dark sky and clouds that seemed to sag from the sheer amount of rain that fell from them. The sheets of water pouring onto them were endless, and it made the air thick and humid, smelling like wet grass and dirt and that distinct rain smell. It was the kind of weather that would not have deterred a professional football team from practicing outside. But as high as the standards they held themselves to were, the Greenbelt Senior High players were not professionals. As such, Landry held practice inside the school that day. Because they were days away from the start of the school year, this meant that half the boys were tasked with moving furniture in classrooms while the other half made use of their meager weight room.

Landry had relieved the assistant coaches of their duties for the day as well. Jade was unsurprised when everyone but her took him up on it. The man was still hell-bent on ignoring her, it seemed. Though, if she were forced to extend any fairness to him, he’d been quiet overall.

Jade had spent days mulling over the last few years of her life in response to the conversation she’d had with Miri. She’d even made one of those goals and accomplishments lists.

“Head coach” was at the top of her goals list, but things like “Get the team a winning season” and “Make more time for personal fun”were there as well. Her accomplishments were where she really shined, though. She’d become the first woman to assistant-coach high school football at her school, she’d managed to pay off her student loans, the family and friends who made up her community were shining stars, and at the end of the day, whatever ended up happening, she was mighty close to reaching her biggest goal. That was an accomplishment in and of itself considering the odds she was up against.

Then she’d sat there, staring down at the paper that had listed so many things that so many people wouldn’t believe a little Black girl from nowhere South Carolina could do. Pride had filled her up. The good kind that reminded her of who she was and what she’d done.

Miri had been right. As much as she loved Greenbelt and was loyal to this team, and as much as she wanted to be the one leading it, her opportunities were not solely confined to this place. She was incredible at what she did, and even more than that, she loved it. The game, the mentoring, the sheer thrill of winning. This was what she’d been born to do. Or, at least, one of the things. No one could keep her from it but herself. Certainly not Duncan Landry.

And now that she knew that, she needed him to know it too.

She bided her time until lunch, when the boys were sent to the cafeteria to eat, and it was just her and Landry. He was sitting at the round table at the front of the weight room, working on his laptop, when she walked up. The room was absolute crickets with just them. The only sounds were the loud whirring of the air conditioner and the occasional click of Landry’s mouse. He couldn’t even be bothered to spare Jade a glance.

Whatever anxiety she might have had left over about speaking to him faded as the indignation welled in her chest like reflux. The relief she got when she finally decided to let her words spew was just as sweet.

“I’m done with this.” Her tone was firm as she stood in front of him with her arms crossed.

The man looked almost startled at the sound of her voice. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”

“Coach, if you’re unhappy with me or my performance or my presence here, I’d appreciate it if you just came right out and said it. Instead of sitting around pretending like I don’t exist.”

“I haven’t—”

She cut him off. “Yes, you have, and you know it. I’ve been like a ghost to you for two weeks now, and I’m tired of it.”

Landry pushed his laptop away and leaned back in his chair, crossing his own arms. The defensive stances they both took would have been funny if the tension between them wasn’t as thick as cold grits.

“I don’t know what to do with you, Dunn.” Landry sighed, shaking his head. “You fucked up. Bad. And I’ve been here for weeks trying to figure out if you can handle the responsibility all this brings.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Maybe not, but it’s true.”

“No, I don’t agree,” she said firmly. “Would you be doing all this if Carr were in my spot or literally any of the other guys? Would you be this hard on them?”

“No, I wouldn’t be,” Landry was quick to answer. “Because none of those other guys have even an ounce of what it takes to do this job. The standards for them are completely different.”

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