I also think he needs a friend.
“That we’re talking about the game on Friday. We’re the coaches.”
“We can talk at school.” He stands up from his leaning position, dropping his hands to his sides and again looking very tired. And not the kind of tired sleep will fix.
“Or . . .” I say firmly, shaking the pizza box again. “You can stop being such a stubborn son of a bitch and let me in.”
His eyes flash with something. A challenge or mirth—I’m not sure because in a flash, it’s gone. With a deep sigh, he moves out of the way and, with a sweeping motion, allows me into his house.
When he closes the door behind us, I turn around to see his face is still stern. “We aren’t going to talk about the game, are we?”
I shrug, walking into the dining area and placing the pizza down because the box is getting hot in my hands. I turn to face him, seeing he’s still in the living room. “Do you think we’ll win on Friday?”
His brow crinkles for a moment. “Yeah.”
“There. We talked about the game.”
He sighs heavily again, walking over to me and flipping open the pizza box. He grabs a slice and walks into his living room, plopping down on the couch and putting his feet up on the ottoman.
“Jeez, at least use a plate,” I chide and make myself at home, going into the kitchen to grab two plates. I hand him one, noticing the amused glint on his face that makes him look even better, and then plate up a piece of pizza for myself.
After closing the pizza box, I grab a couple of paper towels from the kitchen and then join him on the couch. We sit silently for a while, just zoning out, watching something on television and eating pizza.
I’m not really sure how to approach today with him. I know it likely won’t be easy with him. He’s stubborn and fights everything. So for a while, I just let it lie. We both grab another slice, and he hands me a bottle of water without me having to ask.
After three pieces of pizza, we’re both stuffed full, and after throwing away the trash and putting the plates in the dishwasher, we make our way back to the couch. “Why are you here?” he finally asks me.
“You know why,” I answer simply.
“Small-town gossip isn’t something I normally listen to.”
I study him closely. I figured I walked in on them talking about me when the entire room went silent as I walked through the door. But what I don’t know is what exactly was said and why he looked so sick.
“Yeah, I’ve already heard my fair share since I got here. I don’t pay much attention to it either.”
His eyes are on mine, his brow wrinkled like it so often is. “Oh God, what did they say about me?”
“Do you really want to know?” I have to ask because sometimes I think it’s better not to hear it. But I’ll admit I’m curious about what they’ve said about me too. We work together. I need him to hear my side.
He seems to think it over for a moment, but then gives a quick nod. “Yes.”
“Well, for starters they said they can’t believe you divorced little Nancy Hopkins.”
He groans, covering his face with his hands. Again, the muscles in his arms pull tight, and for a moment, I have to remind myself it’s not the time to ogle the poor guy. “Jesus Christ. We were married for nearly twenty years, and they still use her maiden name.”
My eyes widen at that because holy shit, that’s a long time to be married. “Seriously. Just how old are you?”
He drops his hands and glares at me. “I’ll be forty in a couple of weeks.”
My eyes roam over him in a way that’s probably totally inappropriate, but I can’t seem to help myself. He looks damn good for forty.
“Stop that,” he admonishes, and I chuckle.
I hold up my hands in surrender, not at all ashamed of checking him out. I never came out and said I was gay, but I don’t hide it either. And after everything that happened in Big Bend, I’m sure he suspects I am.
“Not trying to make you feel uncomfortable, Coach.” I wink. “But you look pretty good for forty.”
I swear to everything, I think he’s blushing. But he grumbles to cover it up, scrunching his face, all cranky like. “What else did they say?”
I guess we’re done with that part of the conversation. “That your wife ran out on you. That you must have done something bad for her to do that.”
He snorts and shakes his head. He doesn’t offer any explanation, and I’m not surprised. He doesn’t owe me anything.
“And then they said your daughter ran off with her teacher.” I roll my eyes at that, laughing because it’s so damn ridiculous.
But then I notice Noah isn’t laughing. He winces slightly and then straightens his back. “She sort of did do that.”
“What?” I think my eyes are bugging out of my head as I stare at him, certain he’s fucking with me.
“She’d graduated already, and they’ve both assured me repeatedly that nothing happened while she was a student.” His voice turns incredulous. “LeAnn likes to tell me a little too damn much about how she pursued him and he wanted no part of it while she was a student.”
I snort a laugh because he looks pretty grossed-out by that. “Sounds hot.”
He groans, “No.”
I laugh. “So it wasn’t a scandal then?”
“Oh, it was around here, but she was in college when they started dating. They’re married now, and he’s good for her. He loves her. What else could I want?”
I can see the love he has for his daughter, and it makes me smile.
That is, until his next statement hits me straight in the chest. “But she wasn’t sixteen. And he wasn’t in charge of her education in any way when they did get together.”
I look him straight in the eyes, seeing his disgust. Knowing with a certainty what’s being said about me by the other teachers. That it followed me to Kensley.
“So you’ve heard why I was fired.” It’s not a question. It doesn’t need to be. I can see it on his face.
“Yes,” he answers anyway.
“So are you going to let me tell my side? Or shall the judging commence?”
He studies me carefully. I’m surprised the information I picked up at the hardware store was more or less true. I can’t lie, but at least I gave him an opportunity to dispute it.
To tell me that his daughter was of age, and it wasn’t quite the scandal they turned it into. That gossip can easily get out of control. That his wife leaving him doesn’t seem to be for any sinister reason, judging by his reaction.
I want the same courtesy.
From. Him.
I don’t know why I seem to need the validation.
But I do. My heart pounds in my chest as we stare each other down and I wait for him to answer me.
Please.
It’s all I can think over and over again in my head.
Please don’t be like them.
NINE
NOAH
This is not at all how I thought my night would go. Sitting here in my house alone with my assistant coach, talking about the small-town gossip that had my stomach twisting all damn day.