I looked back at Sierra, but she’d taken her focus off me. She stared over my shoulder, her eyes wide and her jaw unhinged. I turned slightly to follow her line of sight and saw a man walking down the small hill from the parking lot to the field. Who was the guy to get that sort of reaction from Sierra?
There was literally no time to contemplate the mystery man. The referees would blow the whistle signaling the end of our time out, and I needed to give the team a play to execute.
“Sierra.”
At the sound of her name she dragged her eyes back to me. She must have seen an apology on my face. Anticipated my words.
“Don’t take me out, Coach Drew. Please.”
I reached out and laid my hand on her shoulder pad. “You’ve played an amazing game, but maybe we let Tommy have a turn.”
A desperation filled her eyes, so much like her mother’s in shape rather than color. “Please,” she begged. “My dad just got here. He’s never seen me play.”
My gaze snapped back to the new arrival. He’d made it to the pack of parents camping out along the opposite sideline He wore a pair of khaki Dockers and a blue polo. Boat shoes with no socks. That was Sierra’s dad, Nicole’s ex?
An unfamiliar something coiled just below my ribs, snaking around my chest cavity and squeezing until I thought a bone would break. My feet urged me to move. To eat up the ground that separated us like a bulldozer flattens the dirt. My fingers curled in on themselves. An unsatisfied impulse to let this pent-up compression in my body out through my fists.
“Coach Drew.” This time it was Sierra’s sweet voice pulling me back to the huddle. Her eyes still held that sheen of desperation, but also a strength I’d recognized in her mother. Determination.
Part of me crumbled. No eight-year-old should have to fight to proveanythingto one of their parents. Love should be unconditional. Stable. Reliable. But here a girl stood, exhausted but unwilling to rest because she thought she had to earn a place in her father’s life and in his heart.
It was on my lips to say no. Greg didn’t deserve this brilliant girl as a daughter, and she shouldn’t have to perform to earn his attention. But I couldn’t make my tongue form the words. I couldn’t be the cause of her face falling or disappointment extinguishing the light in her eyes.
“Okay,” I said, wanting nothing more than to crush her to my chest. Protect her the way her father should. I tore my gaze away, focusing on Maddox. “Get open and run like the wind. I formation, out and up.”
The whistle blew, and the offensive players ran back to the line of scrimmage, arranging themselves into I formation. Sierra called hike, and the center snapped the ball between his legs. She danced in the pocket, looking for an open player to pass the ball to. But all the receivers were blocked. A defensive lineman broke a tackle and charged. Sierra tucked the ball safely to her side and sprinted through an opening. Past the line of scrimmage, she had no choice but to run the ball.
My heart squeezed. I’d never asked Sierra to run the ball. Ever. In the pocket she could be sacked, true. But past offensive linemen, she had no protection. I wished I were standing beside Nicole. Holding her hand in support. She’d been nervous to let Sierra play in the first place. Watching her daughter run a gauntlet through players wanting nothing more than to stop her by physical force must be giving her a heart attack.
The safety on the other team ran a line straight toward Sierra, arms pumping and legs carrying him quickly over the field. A third player came out of my peripheral vision, clad in our red jersey. Number ten. Owen. Head down, he sprinted up the middle of the field. Would he intercept the other team’s player to block him? Would the safety plow into Sierra before she reached the end zone? Would she be okay?
New rules and safety precautions arose every year to keep players from injury, but football was still a contact sport. Sprains, broken bones, and even concussions happened every year.
If something happened to Sierra, I’d never forgive myself. Then again, Nicole would probably kill me anyway. Nothing less than I’d deserve.
Closer the three players came, a shrinking triangle. Then,crash!The unmistakable sound of colliding bodies. Sierra, Owen, and the safety all fell in a rolling heap. Two refs ran over. One raised his hands over his head in the touchdown signal and the other blew his whistle. Game over.
As the illuminated numbers on the scoreboard changed to show our win, I raced to the end zone. Owen and the other team’s player rolled and slowly stood, but Sierra lay still.
Too still.
My heart dropped as my lungs forgot how to work. What other explanation could there be for my inability to draw breath?
I fell to my knees at Sierra’s side. My fingers shook as I unclasped the chin strap and pulled her helmet off.
“Sierra.” My voice echoed in my ears. “Sierra, sweetheart, can you hear me?”
Her face turned to me, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Did my dad see me?”
Forget her deadbeat father! I pressed my lips together and looked over to the line of parents. Nicole ran toward us, but Greg had his phone pressed against his ear. Even when he was here, he wasn’t present.
I forced the muscles in my face to relax before I looked back down at Sierra. “Of course he did. No one could have missed that play.”
Her grin widened, but she still didn’t make a move to stand.
“How are you? Anything hurting?”
She shook her head and finally sat up. “Just had the wind knocked out of me is all.”
