Her brown eyes widen. “Because you were playing with the boys.”
I lift my sunglasses as I lower myself onto the grass with them. “I wouldn’t say it was weird, no. I definitely missed my girls though. That was the hardest part of switching teams.”
The team nods like they can understand.
Raymond’s voice sounds from behind me. “You should’ve seen your coach on the field. She was a force.”
Natalie, my captain, lifts her chin. “Can you show us old tapes of you sometime?”
“Sure, if you want.”
“Hell, yeah, Coach,” Tori says. “You’re so badass.”
A smile creeps onto my face as pride swells in my chest.
“What about Coach Landon?” Maddie asks. “Was he good too?”
I hesitate for only a second before admitting the truth. “Yeah, he was.”
Before they can ask any other probing questions, I push off the grass to stand. “Rest up for tomorrow. Have a good night.”
Turning my back to the moms clamoring for Landon’s attention, I keep my head down and clean up the equipment. I prefer to let everyone vacate the area so I can walk to my car in peace. Ray walks with me to the parking lot ten minutes later.
My stomach sinks when my eyes land on the man leaning against the front bumper of my Jeep. “You better not scratch my paint, Golden Boy.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Landon chuckles as he stands to his full height. “How did practice go?”
“Good.” I toss my duffle into the passenger seat before walking around to the driver’s side. “What do you want?”
He shakes his head as he gazes down at me. “My mom wants to host the pre-game dinner.”
My eyebrows narrow. “What?”
“We both have our first games this Saturday. My mom wants to host dinner Friday night.”
I shake my head before he can finish his sentence. “We don’t do pre-game dinners. That was shit we did back in the day.”
“So why not continue that tradition?”
I cross my arms over my chest, racking my mind for any kind of plausible excuse.
“I think it’d be good for the teams to bond.” His eyes bounce between mine. “And good for us.”
I roll my eyes. “We don’t need to bond.”
He reaches up and scratches the back of his neck. “If you say no, you’ll have to be the one to explain that to my mother.”
The corner of my lips twitch. Mrs. Fletcher was kind to me in high school. She’s a sweet woman, and I much prefer her to her son.
I arch a brow. “Still a momma’s boy.”
He hikes a shoulder, not bothering to deny it. “I’m sorry about your dad, by the way.”
Acid trickles into my stomach. “Thanks.”
His eyes hold mine, those damn things always managing to see everything I try so hard to conceal underneath my hardened exterior.
He knows my father was my best friend. Losing him was the worst pain I’ve ever felt, and I don’t talk about him much with anyone because of that exact reason.
