Page 49 of The Keeper
His offer is so thoughtful, and so supportive, that my mouth drops open and I can’t think of anything to say.
“After the Cal game next week, we have a bye week. I’ll give you my notes about the things I want us to stay focused on for the practices we have between Cal and the next game. I’ll explain to you how and why I lay out practice structures so you can piece things together as you think is best.” His voice is calm, his tone almost teacher-like. “I think this could be really good.”
I continue to just stare at him. If I want to coach someday, this will be an amazing opportunity. Which is what I should be focused on. But instead I am trying to wrap my mind around the amazing consideration and investment Mack is making in my life.
Suddenly, I realize that I’m nodding without saying anything.
“Sure,” finally bursts from my mouth. “I can do that. Thank you so much.”
Mack smiles, then, and for a brief moment, I’m lost in it. How it lights up his face and eyes.
“Great! I’m excited. Coach Johnson thinks some of my philosophies are a little nuts, so it will be good to have someone I can laugh with on the sidelines there with me.”
My laugh is small, but genuine. “Well, I’ll definitely be laughingatyou.” My phone starts buzzing and I drop my eyes to the bag at my feet.
“You need to get that?”
“Yeah, sorry.” I bend forward and snag my phone from the front pocket, flicking the screen to see a missed call from Thomas. “Missed it. I’ll call him back later,” I say out loud, more for myself than him.
“Jeremy?”
I shake my head and look back at him after my phone is dropped back into my bag. “No, Thomas.”
There’s a brief pause and his eyebrows draw together, but they quickly smooth back out. “Moore?” I nod. Mack picks his pen back up and begins tapping it again. He clears his throat once. Then twice.
“You said there were a few things you wanted to talk about?”
He shifts in his chair, his discomfort clear.
“Look, RJ, I know I’m your coach. But I obviously care about you,” he starts, and I know he’s moving away from the professional chatter and onto the personal. Something I don’t want him to do. “Well, at least I hope it’s obvious. I mean, not to everyone else, but to you.” He clears his throat again. “I just want you to know you can talk to me. About anything.”
His eyes on me feel like lasers, as if he’s trying to burrow himself under my skin and into my DNA. I don’t say anything to him, just nodding at his words.
He looks away then, his fingers now twisting his pen nervously in that way drummers twist their drumsticks.
“I still want you to come with me to the football game tomorrow night,” he says, his voice slightly above a whisper. When his eyes cut back up to mine, he adds, “just as friends.”
I lick my dry lips and softly chew on the inside of my cheek.
“Are we friends, Mack?”
He expels a heavy breath, dropping his pen and running both hands through his hair, causing the smoothed down pieces to stick up slightly in disarray.
“I’d like us to be. Just because I’m your coach doesn’t mean we can’t care about each other. Spend time together, on occasion. We can figure it out.” When my head falls to the side a bit and my eyes narrow at his naivety, he smiles sheepishly. “Okay, so maybe being actual friends is pushing it. But, there’s someone I want you to meet. At the game.”
“Who?”
He just shakes his head slightly.
“Will you come?”
I assess him from across the desk. It hasn’t escaped my notice that he’s gripping his pen tightly, as if my response really means something. He must really want me to go to this game.
I sigh.
“What time am I meeting you?”
His face blooms into that grin I love so much, and I immediately wonder if I’m making a huge mistake.
