Shit.What was wrong with me?
I rolled into Wood Hollow in the early evening and turned left onto Main Street. Viggo’s game was over or would be ending soon. I figured I’d check in at the shop and meet him afterward.
Yes, Janey had everything under control, and Alberto had the menu and the recipe for tomorrow’s lemon meringue donutspecial down. I didn’t have a reason to go in, but I didn’t want to go home. I was just…restless.
I slowed at the stop sign and waved at the young family crossing the street. The little girl held her father’s hand, skipping to catch up with his long strides, a gleeful smile on her face. The mother held the boy…a toddler. He plucked at her hair and wriggled in her arms. They could have been on their way to Log Cabin Diner for dinner or walking home from a friend’s house.
Ordinary, comforting, security…belonging. Quintessential Wood Hollow.
This place was a warm hug on a cool autumn evening, resplendent in yellows, oranges, and reds. It could have been a painting or a scene from a movie depicting idyllic small-town New England living.
I drove by the donut shop, passing Fox’s Drug Store, Rise and Grind, and Dean’s Shoe Repair to the copse of trees that forked at the end of the road. To the left was the park, fire station, police headquarters, and the elementary school. To the right, St. Matthew’s Church, the original residential area where the bulk of the community had settled until a parcel of land had been cleared by Lake Norman. The high school was here too and sure enough, there were still players on the field.
I parked the Tahoe and hurried to catch the last of the game.
Troy cupped his hands at his mouth and hollered. “Run the play! We got this, boys, we got this!”
“What’s the score?” I asked, sidling beside him, clapping as if I already knew the answer.
“14 to 7, thirty seconds on the clock. And if Big V can hold Fallbrook’s offense, we’re gonna fucking win this.”
The ball was at the thirty-yard line, an easy throw for Fallbrook’s QB, Trick Corbin, a recent college graduate who’d come home to help with the family business. He’d recruited a few buddies to play fall flag football and suddenly, Fallbrook, who’d once been the worst team in the Four Forest area league wasn’t so bad.
Sidenote: We had fewer teams at this time of year. The pro hockey and football players had gone back to their day jobs, evening the field a bit. Viggo played for Wood Hollow with a couple of guys from the mill, the middle school gym teacher, the lacrosse coach, a retired physicist, and occasionally, Silas, when his pro-football announcer gig allowed.
And in a twist, Viggo had become a flag football regular. He was by far the best defensive threat on the team. He took up space and could intimidate opponents with a cold stare. It was a big act, but Viggo had gained a bit of a reputation as a badass. The guy who’d avoided human interaction had been welcomed with open arms and secretly, he kinda loved it. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course.
I zeroed in on the big Swede, huddled with his teammates in the middle of the field. Those broad shoulders, muscular biceps, and beefy thighs were my kryptonite.
Christ, snap out of it, Dex.
I spotted Reg with Rhys and Gretch; and Cooper with his kids, Ivy and Chase, cheering for the team. “Looks like half the town showed up.”
“On a Thursday night, no less. Thankfully, it started right after varsity practice. I’m glad I could be here for this.” Troy paced the sideline with nervous energy. “How was Burlington?”
“Great. It was?—”
The shriek of a whistle put conversation on hold. Troy yelled encouragement to the team as they got into position, waiting for the signal from the ref for play to begin. The crowd went wild. Trick pulled his arm back, his gaze scanning for a teammate with an opening. He angled his body as if prepared to unleash the ball, but it was a decoy. An obvious one.
And Viggo knew it.
He darted after the quarterback and stayed with him, forcing Trick into a quick decision. The ball flew in a long arc and hung in the air over the endzone. Players jockeyed for position while doing their best not to shove each other and get called fortackling. Silas was there, but Fallbrook’s defense crowded him out. Then suddenly, Viggo dove in front of them like a swimmer careening into the water.
“What happened? Did he catch it?” Troy held his head as if hoping to keep it connected to his body.
I squinted. “I can’t tell, but—oh, wow.”
Viggo popped up, ball raised triumphantly.
Wood Hollow erupted, charging the field like a bunch of college kids after a big win. It was bedlam. The fun kind.
Troy whooped and raced out to join the party. As coach, he deserved to be part of the celebration. I hung back, chuckling at the swarm of bodies surrounding Viggo. He’d make a fuss later about how annoying it was, but he was grinning like a fool. More so when he noticed me.
I waved and gave a thumbs-up.
“Great game.” Cooper squeezed my shoulder.
“I didn’t think you’d make it,” Reg added. “That was a nice win for us. Thanks to Viggo.”
