Page 10 of A Surefire Love
“Something like that.”
“Well, one ofthosecolleges was going to give him a free ride if he went and played for them, but he turned it down to be a youth pastor and a high school coach because he wanted to be like that other coach who died. That’s what the boys were saying in the gym.”
Many Oaks had been abuzz with the news when Anson made his famous decision. Of course people still talked about it. Anson’s height, athleticism, and dedication to his faith and community made him a local hero who towered miles over her.
Blaze angled her head to spot her little sister in the mirror. “I thought you were in pain.”
“Oh, I am. Wow. Have you ever broken a bone? What did it feel like?” She described her pain for a few blocks, then launched into a story about a classmate’s broken toe.
If only Blaze could redirect her own mind as swiftly. Instead, as she checked Mercy in at the ER and waited for the verdict, she kept picturing Anson caring for her sister.
By the time they made it home two hours later, Mercy teetering around on crutches with her sprained ankle in a wrap, Blaze had pictured Anson stepping in to help so many times, it was almost a surprise he wasn’t there to assist Mercy to her room.
He’d only been doing his part at The Depot. He would’ve helped any injured student, but only to a point.
Blaze never had anyone to depend on as she navigated the daily challenges of life.
Anson Marsh was the last person who’d ever change that.
5
“I’ve heard what my dad’s up to. I’m going to help you out.”
Anson panted, hands on his hips, as he and Carter descended the hill behind the community center. When they reached the bottom, they’d sprint up again. If Carter could talk only seconds after they’d switched to a walk, Anson needed to pick up the pace next time. He sucked in a deep breath. “How so?”
“I’ll bring people to Branching Out. Most kids do whatever I say.” The boast rang true. A popular athlete going into his senior year, Carter held sway over his classmates.
Anson hadn’t been so charismatic. “Why would you do that if you don’t see a need for God?”
“It’s a good time.” Carter smirked. “Mostly.”
Despite the tease in the kid’s voice, Anson’s stomach tightened with disappointment. “You know I’m still going to teach, right?”
“Yeah. It’s what you believe. It’d be dishonest not to.”Carter’s commitment to honesty was one thing Anson liked about the kid.
Carter slugged his arm and grinned. “Just make sure there’s food during the boring parts. Because we like to eat and our parents don’t feed us at home. A few times last year, you let us starve.”
“Is that why I found a stash of junk food wrappers behind one of the couches last week?”
The student snorted but didn’t offer an explanation. He might not know. Anson didn’t, and he led all the activities in the youth room.
They reached the bottom of the hill where Carter’s younger brother, Dylan, lay on the ground playing on his phone. The other kids who’d played basketball with them in the community center gym had disappeared as soon as Anson suggested hill sprints. Only Carter had accepted the challenge. Since he was Dylan’s ride, the incoming freshman was stuck until they finished.
“We’re going up backward this time.” Carter kicked the backpack his brother was using as a pillow. “Think you can beat me?”
Dylan narrowed his eyes at the incline.
“He is a lot slower backward,” Anson said.
Carter scoffed. “Still going to beat you, old man.”
He might. Hoping to land a scholarship, Carter had trained intensely over the summer and attended two elite basketball camps. Anson no longer had that much time to work out.
“Come on, Dylan,” he said. “Show us what you’ve got.”
The boy lumbered to his feet, and on Anson’s signal, they raced. Anson and Carter tied for the lead until Dylan turned and sprinted forward. Carter stuck with the initial challenge,matching Anson step for step. At the top, the race was too close to call. Carter was more concerned with telling Dylan he’d cheated anyway.
Afterward, the boys headed straight to their car. Anson caught his breath on the way back to the community center. Back when basketball was his life, he’d learned to equate tired muscles with progress. His aspirations no longer included going pro, but the heaviness of his arm as he reached for the door still felt like an achievement.
