It’s a dream coaching job, but dreams change when you realize what you really want in life. Or who you don’t want to lose.
“Oh,” Sadie says. “Well, that’s amazing. That’s got to be a bit better than coaching at Dusty Hollow High and filming TikToks.”
“Is he still doing that?” Caleb chuckles. “Does he still use those fake glasses?”
Sadie’s red lips stretch out in a smile. “And the empty coffee mug.”
“Oh, man. At least have the decency to make yourself a real cup of coffee,” Caleb teases.
“Decency? Do we want to talk about who scheduled 5 a.m. workouts and called it a ‘light day’?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Hey, it’s part of the job.”
“What is your job?” Sadie interrupts, her tone curious.
“Well, now I’m the offensive coordinator, but I was the running backs coach when Milo played,” he answers.
Sadie shrugs. “I don’t know what all that means.”
I laugh lightly at her honesty before I say, “She’s the girl who baked cookies for the other team if she knew we were going to destroy them.”
Sadie lightly punches me on the shoulder. I grin at her as she says, “I just wanted to soften the blow.”
Caleb smiles at Sadie. “I like you. Already did, but now I really do. Sounds like you might have to bake me some cookies if Milo here keeps turning me down.”
“Guess we’ll see,” she says, as if what Caleb is offering me is still an option.
It’s not. I’ve made my decision. I already chose football over her once. It’s a mistake I won’t make again.
“So, what’s the fuss about a pro football stadium?” Sadie shrugs.
“You’ve never seen one?” Caleb questions.
She shakes her head. “I mean, I grew up in Texas, so all stadiums, including small-town high schools, are a little glorified.”
“Follow me,” Caleb commands as he turns around.
Sadie grabs my hand, an action that pulls me back to what she wants and not where we are. She said she wanted to be where I had been, and it makes me ache that I’ve seen things she never has.
We follow Caleb, but I keep my eyes on Sadie. She’s taking it all in just like she did at the library, as if this place holds just as much history.
When we walk out of the tunnel onto the field, her jaw drops, and she freezes as her eyes trail up to the thousands of seats above us.
“How many people can the stadium seat?” she asks.
“82,500,” Caleb answers.
I watch as she blinks and bites down on her bottom lip, calculations drawing themselves out in her mind. It’s a look she often had in high school—one I’d watch in amazement when she’d land on the correct answer without needing paper and pen. It was Geometry she struggled with, where I finally had the opportunity to lean over her paperand make sense of it for her.
“That’s everyone in Dusty Hollow almost fourteen times over,” she marvels before she turns to me, eyes wide. “How did that feel? That many people watching you?”
I smile at her softly, because it didn’t matter how many people watched me. I only cared about who was missing in the stands. When she told me she watched me play with her dad, a piece of my heart felt full again just knowing her eyes had been on me, even if it was through a screen.
I shrug. “Strange,” I say. Lonely, too—but I don’t tell her that. Especially not with Caleb listening in.
“I bet,” she replies. She spins in a circle, her eyes taking it all in. “Wow. Milo Carter . . .” Her eyes are back on me. “You really were a Hot Shot.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “People cared about my stats.”
