Page 20 of Hometown Touchdown
But then I lie awake at night listening for her footsteps. I find myself pausing in the driveway when I see her car. I replay conversations we haven’t even had yet.
So yeah. I throw myself into the team. Into practice. Into drills and film study and anything else that makes me feel useful. Because the alternative? It’s thinking about the fact that the only woman I’ve ever loved now lives ten feet from my bed—and I still have no idea what to do with that.
We’ve got our second away game Friday night against Mountain Top—number one in our district. Their QB’s got an arm like a cannon, and their defensive line eats sophomores for breakfast.
To say I’m not confident would be the understatement of the season.
“Tate!” I shout. “Watch your plant foot—you're cutting too shallow. Drive through the hip and dig in!”
He adjusts and runs the drill again, cleaner this time. Minor stuff, but it’s the details that get you beat.
I jot a quick note on my clipboard just as I catch a familiar figure wandering up the sideline in khakis and a Cedar Falls Athletics quarter-zip.
“Hey, Cam,” I say without looking up.
“Hey, Coach Grumble.” He stops beside me, squinting toward the far end zone. “Came to see how practice is shaping up.”
I blow the whistle and wave the receivers and DB’s into 7-on-7 periods. “They look good. Just like they always do until Friday night.”
Cam nods, hands on his hips like he’s about to drop some unsolicited wisdom. “Well, theydolook good. Sharp, even. I’ve got an idea for Friday.”
I side-eye him. “Let me guess—smudge the bus with sage and pray to the football gods?”
“No, but now that you mention it, thatdidwork for our state run in 2019.”
I grunt. “What’s the idea?”
“How about I ride out with you guys to Mountain Top,” he says, “and I give the pregame pep talk.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You think I need help firing up my team?”
“Didn’t say that. But sometimes it helps hearing it from someone who’s not the guy who just made ‘em run gassers for twenty minutes.”
I chew the inside of my cheek. He’s not wrong. I’ve been riding them hard this week. Too hard, maybe.
“You think it’ll help?”
He shrugs. “Helped my team a couple years back. Sometimes an outside voice reminds them what they’re fighting for. Plus, I give a hell of a speech.”
I huff, nod slowly. “Fine. But if you start quotingRemember the Titans, I’m pulling the bus over and leaving you at a Waffle House.”
Cam slaps my shoulder, grinning. “Deal. But I’m definitely using the ‘left side, strong side’ line.”
I shake my head and drop my clipboard to my side, letting the silence settle as the boys run another rep.
Cam leans over, voice lower now. “So...I heard about your new neighbor.”
I close my eyes for a second. “Goddamn Facebook group.”
He laughs. “To be fair, it was posted right between the lost cat flyer and a rant about parking at the grocery store.”
“So what?” I mutter. “She’s next door. We made it clear we’re staying out of each other’s way.”
“Uh-huh.” Cam doesn’t even try to hide the amusement in his voice. “And how’s that working out for you?”
I glance toward the field and blow the whistle again, a little harder than necessary. “Practice, Cam. We’re talking about practice.”
“Fine, Coach.” He smirks. “But I give it two weeks before you start accidentally mowing her lawn or borrowing sugar you don’t need.”
