Page 31 of Returning Your Love
The kids took off, falling into line, some sprinting because of first day excitement. True colors would show soon enough.
Coach Dave clasped my shoulder. “Great speech, Coach.”
“Thanks. Was scared shitless, to be honest,” I said with a chuckle, my voice still shaky.
“I appreciate the inclusion part. Gabby is my niece, and I was afraid the boys would make shit hard for her, you know?”
Dave hadn’t told me details about any of the kids prior to tryouts. He’d wanted me to have fresh eyes on those returning as well as those recently graduated eighth grade, hoping things would be fair for everyone. Not that we’d turned anyone away. We needed as many kids on the sidelines as possible since a few varsity players would be on the field for both offense and defense.
“I’m happy to have her,” I said, grabbing my clipboard from off the bench and striding onto the field, ready to get this show on the road. Excitement trickled in as I watched them round the final corner and sprint toward us in the middle of the field. Reminded me of all those hot, sweaty days I’d done the same, visions of grandeur keeping me focused on the goal line. A small shot of adrenaline raced through me, and I actually grinned. “Let’s get these kids stretched out then see what they’re made of.”
Turned out, those kids were tough stock and I was proud as fuck. Only two puked, surprising for how hard we pushed them in the August humidity, but we had everyone stay hydrated and they got breaks throughout the morning’s session. We took time off for the kids to head home, eat, and rest then were back at it for a few hours after the heat had faded.
Day one had been a success as far as I was concerned. Not a single kid dropped out, and they left more wound up than I’d expected after probably having sat on their asses all summerlong. While I’d been active and lifting weights, I groaned while stepping beneath the shower that night. Only a few years older than the seniors, and my body ached.
A week later into preseason practice, and I was dead on my feet. While I wasn’t nearly as physical as the kids on the field, I still stumbled into the house every night, beat and fucking starved, my knee sore as hell.
Friday, Dad snickered as I collapsed at the table where he’d saved me a plate.
Chicken parm.
“Fuck yeah,” I muttered, diving in without even washing my hands.
“How’d it go today?” Dad sat across from me, his after-dinner beer in hand.
With how busy we’d both been, I’d only seen him in passing, not really having time to catch up.
“Better than I expected,” I replied as soon as I finished a mouthful of crunchy coating, tender meat, and gooey cheese. “Gonna have to ice my knee again though. Kinda overdid it today.”
“You gotta take care of yourself, kid,” Dad said, getting back up and heading for the freezer.
“I’ll grab an ice pack after I eat,” I said, but he didn’t listen, filling a bag with ice cubes and wrapping it in a towel. “Thanks,” I mumbled when he handed it to me. Cold pack in place, I returned to the food, my insides sighing over the savory taste I barely gave myself time to enjoy before swallowing it down and forking up another bite.
Dad could cook like a damned master chef.
“If you ever get tired of trying to keep the citizens of Pippen Creek in line, you ought to open a restaurant.”
He laughed and reclaimed his seat. “You think I work too much now. I’d be married to a job like that, a fuck-ton hours a day, seven days a week.”
Sounded about right. Old Man Ron’s truck sat alongside Dig-In Tuesday through Sunday from breakfast until dinner and had from as far back as I could remember. He and his daughter Addy shut down on Mondays along with Thanksgiving and Christmas, but that was it. Didn’t seem like enough for either of them to have a life outside the diner.
“How are you feeling about the move now that the season has started? Any better than a couple of weeks ago?” Dad asked, and I considered his question while chewing, the tang of his homemade sauce making love to my taste buds.
He hadn’t pried much since I’d moved home, allowing me space and quiet to work through the shit in my head. Last we’d talked had been at the diner that night Chaz and Shelly were finishing up with their date.
“Some ups but mostly downs.”
“I’d hoped starting with the team would give you a bigger boost.”
I shrugged, eyeing my plate. “I’m just busy right now. A little overwhelmed. Feeling a little worthless outside coaching if I’m being honest.”
“Maybe you need some new hobbies. Go on another ride along with me since it’s been a while. Hang with Chaz this weekend. Grab some beers, kick back, and relax.”
A grimace etched on my face. “Yeah…not sure spending time with Chaz is a good idea.”
“Something happen?”
Shit. I rubbed a hand over my face and glanced across the table to find Dad’s brow deeply furrowed. “You could say that,” I muttered and shoved another bite into my mouth.
