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“Coach football. Avoid Allyson.” I nod, having decided as the words came out. It even sounds like somewhat of a plan, tangible goals I can check off like one of Shay’s lists in her ever-present notebook.
Bobby scans my face, looking for something but finally shaking his head. “Easier said than done, but I agree that it’s what you should do, one hundred percent. Good luck with that. Just let me know when she gets her claws into you again so I can prepare for you to start beating shit up when it goes catawampus.” It’s a warning as much as a prediction, him begging me not to do this again.
Done with the conversation, I give him a middle-finger salute. “Do your song. Let me see if I can help.”
He blinks a few times but then picks Betty back up. Before he plays, he adds one last piece of advice. “Fuck Allyson Meyers, but not literally. You hear me, Brutal? You’re an asshole, but even you deserve better than her.”
Having said his piece, he begins to play and sing. His voice is honeyed whiskey over gravel, and he gets pussy thrown at him left and right from just speaking, much less singing. He rarely takes advantage, though, which I don’t get, but there are worse things than being picky.
Like being a fucking liar.
Chapter 5
Allyson
I am an adult. I can handle this. I can do this. Because I am a grown ass woman in charge of her own destiny, her own life, her own choices. I am doing this.
The pep talk’s better today, my inner voice mostly chanting, ‘I am woman, hear me roar.’ That’s a good thing, because as I approach the field to pick up Cooper and Liam, I know I’m going to need every bit of strength I can muster. I feel like myself, and I’m proud of that and the decision I made this weekend after seeing Bruce.
He’s going to be spending a lot of time with Cooper, which means we’re going to see each other regularly, and I do not want it to be weird. For us, for the kids, for the team. So I’m going to stand tall and have an awkward conversation about our past to make sure that it’s all put to rest and won’t affect the season.
See? Adulting 101. Communication is key.
The boys are on a knee, looking up to Coach Mike as he talks. Bruce stands off to the side, feet spread wide, arms crossed, old ball cap pulled down low. He looks like a bouncer at a country bar, like a bodyguard for the young kids at his feet. But, though I can’t see his eyes under the brim, I get the distinct impression that he’s looking at me, and my belly does a flip-flop it hasn’t done in a long time.
Fuck, I missed him. I didn’t even realize it, hadn’t thought about him in so long with my own shit to handle. But seeing him brings back so many good memories—lazy days alone in the barn, talking about everything and nothing, making love in the back of his truck under the stars up at Make-out Point, knowing that the world was ours for the taking if we just worked hard enough. He reminds me of who I once was, the light, carefree, innocent girl without a worry in her head. He makes me remember when things were easy. Before they got so hard.
I lick my lips, remembering his taste. Not the one time he tried his dad’s cigarettes and I’d yelled at him, spitting out the gross taste into the dirt, but the cinnamon-y heat of his kisses from the gum and mints he used to eat all the time. I never realized it, but I quit eating anything cinnamon flavored years ago. Not a single Red Hot has passed my lips in almost a decade.
I wonder if he still tastes like that?
Movement catches my eye, and I see the boys standing and putting a hand in for a cheer. “GO WILDCATS!” Then they all scatter this way and that, beelining for their moms.
Cooper and Liam come up to me, sweaty and bright-eyed. “Mom, did you see me? I caught the ball two times when Coach Mike threw it!” He holds his hand up and Liam smacks it.
“He did, Ms. Allyson! And I threw for thirty whole yards!” Liam boasts, not wanting to be outdone. The boys high-five again. I’m glad they celebrate and support each other and offer them each a high-five myself for good measure.
“Great job, guys!” I say with a big smile. I can see Mike and Bruce packing everything up to leave and know I need to act fast. “Hey, boys, do you mind playing for a few minutes before we go? I need to talk to Coach B for a second.” The name sounds awkward on my tongue, but it’s the most likely way to refer to Bruce and not get Cooper’s interest piqued.
