“I’m doing my job. I’m the assistant coach.”
He folds his arms, staring out at the field as the whistle blows and the next play goes off. But we’re stopped again. Almost instantly. And Coach curses under his breath, his face going back to that dark red.
“Jackson!” he shouts out at the kid and immediately has his attention. “Get your head in the game.”
Jackson nods, and I stand with my arms folded over my chest next to Coach. “It’s their first game.”
“And they need to win. They need to build their confidence.” He doesn’t look at me, of course, but finally Jackson protects the quarterback, who throws a beautiful pass down the field. It’s run in for a touchdown, and the entire crowd roars.
It’s so damn loud, I wish I had earplugs. Except I live for this. Or I used to. I’ve always loved football. It’s kind of hard not to, growing up around here, but I was afraid I’d lose my love for the game after what happened.
I didn’t.
No. My dumb ass is smiling just as bright as the rest of the home crowd. And when we pull out the win, my chest is swelling with pride. They may have always been the enemy, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to see these kids succeed.
And the locker room after the game is alive with ruckus and cheer. With talks of after-game parties that Coach Asher and I pretend not to hear. They’re going to celebrate.
They should. At least as long as they’re safe. Coach Asher is still in a pissy-ass mood, though, making sure to lecture them all about their piss-poor playing at the beginning of the game.
I’m not sure why he’s being so tough on them right now though. Coach Asher has a tough reputation, no doubt about it, but something seems off.
Something I plan to talk to him about. But before I can get a word with him, he’s gone, and I’m even more frustrated. I don’t know why I care so much, but the combination of him very obviously being sick before the game and the way he was acting on the field has me concerned, to say the least.
When I walk out to my car after everyone else has left, I’m once again shocked to my core when I see a dark-haired petite woman with her arms wrapped around Coach’s neck.
I don’t know why, but there’s an uncomfortable hot feeling deep in my chest as I watch him hug her and the truly joyful smile on his face as he kisses her forehead, then walks her to his truck. I swear I even hear him chuckle before he closes the passenger-side door.
I’m not sure why it irks me, but despite his little hookup tonight, I’m going to make him talk to me about the game tomorrow.
I can’t and won’t just let this go.
FIVE
NOAH
I stand in my kitchen, staring out the window above my sink with a steaming cup of coffee in my hand, wearing my ratty old black joggers and white t-shirt that’s nearly see-through after so many years of wear. These quiet moments are some of my favorites. I live in my grandparents’ old farmhouse off a dirt road, away from town. Frankly, it’s heaven.
It’s peaceful in a way that’s hard to describe.
But then I’m instantly annoyed, my peace shattered, when I see someone driving down my gravel road and turn into my driveway. I’m even more annoyed when the person who climbs out of the car is none other than my new assistant coach.
Goddammit, who told him where I live?
I put my coffee down and immediately make my way to the front door, hoping the asshole doesn’t knock and wake up LeAnn. She surprised me after the game last night, and we stayed up pretty late talking. I hadn’t seen my daughter in months, and God, have I missed her.
I smile, thinking about her once-long blonde hair and how it’s now cut in a bob-style and dyed a dark color. I like it. Suits her. And my baby girl is pretty damn happy these days.
Her husband couldn’t make the trip this time because he’s now a professor at her college—though not one of her professors—and he had some sort of dinner to go to. But it’s nice to have her here for the weekend.
I yank open the door just as Chance has lifted his fist to knock. He lowers his hand, and his eyes meet mine, surprise swimming in them. “Coach.”
“Leighton.” Annoyance drips from my tone as I step outside to the porch—which quite frankly has seen better days. Maybe I’ll have Oakley come and fix it up for me.
That kid is good with that kind of shit.
I close the door behind me, not wanting to wake up LeAnn. “Why are you here? And how do you know where I live?”
He rolls his eyes at me, and I swear he looks even younger than twenty-five when he does that. “You’re the great Coach Asher. It’s not hard to find out where you live.” His tone is sarcastic as hell.
“Well, that’s not disturbing at all.”
He just shrugs. He’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and it’s almost unnerving, seeing him out of his athletic gear for the first time. His dark hair is styled, though he’s still wearing the tennis shoes I’m used to seeing him in.
“Why are you here?” I ask again.
“We need to talk about last night.”
“No, we don’t,” I say quickly, shutting him down. My stomach still turns from that damn game, and Billy’s dumb ass getting into my head. When we were behind, I was sweating bullets. Terrified of giving them a reason to fire me. Terrified of losing.
I barely made it through the game, and that’s never, ever happened to me before. I’m good at keeping my cool. And I hate that Chance was not only there to witness it but is calling me out on it.
“You were too hard on them.”
Goddammit. Why is this the start of my Saturday? I look over my assistant coach and can tell he’s not going to back down. His mouth is set in a stern frown, and his back is completely straight as he stares me down. “Jackson was playing sloppy.”
He was, but I was admittedly a little too hard on him. I know that, damn it. But I’m not going to tell Chance that. I’ll apologize to Jackson in private. “He’s a kid.”
“He’s a seventeen-year-old kid who’ll be going to college next year if he pulls his head out of his ass.” It’s no secret that most people from Kensley don’t go to college. Even now, it’s not all that common.
We’re a farming community, and those who don’t go into farming usually wind up drilling for oil or landscaping. College just isn’t necessary around here, but if they want it—if they want out of this town and they want more—God, do I want them to have it.
So yes. I push them hard. And most of them thank me for it. But last night, I lost my cool.
“We finished?”
He flushes angrily and waves his hand toward my front door. “Look, I get you probably still have your hot little hookup from last night warming your bed, but we need to talk about yesterday.”
My brows knit together, and I frown as I try to figure out what the hell he’s talking about when it hits me. “Hookup? That’s my daughter, you jackass.”
“Your what?” He looks totally taken aback.
“My daughter, LeAnn. She’s home from college for the weekend.”
“You have a daughter in college?” He sounds dumbfounded. “Just how old are you?”