AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Because it’s no coincidence that he found thelove of his lifein my mom. The daughter of a joint venture stock broker that made it big in the nineties and hasn’t stopped since.
I think Dad knew he needed to marry rich to stay rich. It’s a terrible ideology, really.
But this is all besides the point. What am I trying to really get at here? If I’m being honest, these thoughts seemingly weigh on me now because the words “leave me alone” continue to linger through my mind.
I remember being told that time and time again growing up. Not as coldly as Warren told me a few days ago, and I’ve followed his request ever since, but it didn’t matter. No matter how you say those three words, the meaning doesn’t change, and that’s what hurts the most—the thought that no matter where I go, I’m always a burden to someone.
“Why do you look so sad?” Wilks finds his way to my side, propping his arm around my shoulder. “Today’s the big day, Laney!” he announces as if I’ve forgotten.
I’d been at the stadium since seven AM, setting up, organizing the vendors, and, most importantly, making sure things go to plan, which, thankfully, they had.
The pre-game festivities were an absolute hit. I could’ve sworn the entire town came out—even those who didn’t have tickets. Which, in my eyes, is a win. Tease them on the outside so that they want to make their way in.
Now, with a full stadium and an arrangement of those wearing partially manufacturer-errored Crawfield merchandise, we’re ten minutes away from the kick-off to the new season.
“I don’t look sad,” I lie, tucking a strand of hair out of my face, but Wilks doesn’t buy it.
“Is this about Coach?” he brings up the last person and situation I want to talk about right now.
My diverting eyes seemingly answer his prying question as he pulls me to take a seat beside him. “Listen, Delaney. Don’t beat yourself up. You didn’t know it’s something we don’t talk about, so don’t sweat it, okay?”
I let out a breath. “Oh, I’m sweating it, Wilks! These past few days, I’ve felt terrible! I didn’t mean to embarrass him or bring up his dirty laundry. I was just worried, that’s all.”
“He’s not mad at you,” Wilks attempts to reassure me. “He’s just a grump. You should know that by now.”
“A grump who’s refused to look in my direction these past few days,” I rebut.
“Okay, fine, he’s astubborngrump,” Wilks attempts once more, nudging me playfully, his comment prompting a smirk to fall onto my lips. “There’s that southern smile,” he teases. “We all missed it, you know.”
I look up at him. “And whosewe?” I curiously ask.
“The team…” He gestures back, where each of the boys line the pitch, working through some stretches and pre-game warm-ups being led by Alf. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed what you’ve done for us so far.” His voice is full of sincerity. “This…” He now points to the stadium around him. “This is beyond what any of us thought would happen on game day. You made this happen, and for that, we’re grateful, we really are?—”
“Wilks!” it’s none other than Warren who shouts from afar. “Keep warming up!”
My face drops as Warren and I make eye contact for the first time in days—I’d somehow forgotten just how nerve-racking it is to look into his eyes.
Wilks picks up on my change in tune, prompting me away with his final words. “And when I saywethis time.” He stands back up. “That means Coach, too.”
I toy with the cuffs of my sweater, shifting in my seat as Wilks rushes back onto the field.
“Wait, Wilks!” I call out to him as he's about to walk about onto the pitch. “Thank you.” I smile. “I really appreciate it, I do.”
He shoots me a faint nod as I see Warren watch our entire interaction in my peripherals.
“Break a leg,” I add on, halting Wilks in place as I process the complete ludicrously of my words.
What is wrong with me?
“I’ll try not to,” Wilks jokes as he bursts into laughter.
“Ugh, you know what I mean,” I stumble in my words as I attempt to backtrack on the thought. “Do good, play hard, score a goal?—”
Warren blows the whistle, cutting me off mid-speech, calling the boys in for a huddle. “C’mon in, lads,” he shouts, taking me by surprise as he waves for me to join in too. “We’ve got a game to play.”
W A R R E N
90 minutes.
