Page 17 of Second Chance

11

A Team Sport

[Mati]

The girls’ home opener is on Friday. It’s been twenty-four hours since I saw Denton, but the town is abuzz with his return.

Kent at Duncan Hardware. “Did you hear Denton Chance is back?” Yes, I did.

Hetty at the flower shop. “Denton Chance is back. Have you seen him? Mmm…mmm…mmm.” Yes, I have.

Shannon at Tom’s Grocery. “Denton Chance is back. Weren’t you two friends?” Yes, we were.

We aren’t now though and haven’t been for twenty-seven years. The thought makes me a little sad. What surprises me is I’m even sadder he’s stopped all Facebook communication. I checked messages after our awkward moment at the diner, thinking he might make some smart-ass comment about my behavior, but the chat remains blank after his last post.

I’ve upset you. I’m sorry.

I’ve read those words a million times, interpreted them a hundred ways, adding innuendo that most likely doesn’t exist.

“I know it’s upsetting, but I think it’s better if you don’t go with me.”

“Why?” I can still hear the whine in my voice, the desperate plea to understand.

“I’ve just decided to take the trip alone.”

“But we promised we’d go together. A road trip to celebrate graduation. Cross country and back before college.” This was the plan. Chris couldn’t go because he didn’t have the money. He didn’t live on the Lane, like Denton and me. I offered to pay his way, but he didn’t like that option. In fact, we fought over it. He wanted to take care of me and didn’t want me using my daddy’s money to pay for his portion of the trip.

“I’m not going to college.” Denton’s declaration surprised me.

“Since when?” His face. I remember his expression. Blank. “You never intended to go, did you?” My voice dropped, a strange sensation settling over me.

“I’ve got to get out of here, Mati. You of all people know that.”

“But I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me? Why don’t you want me with you?”

“I’m sorry. I just need to go alone.”

He couldn’t look at me as he tore my heart out over a trip I’d been looking forward to for almost a year. The moment the idea sparked, I ran with it—planning, plotting, mapping. We were going to see the country by backroads, and I couldn’t wait. My parents approved because it was Denton. They trusted him to take care of me. Three months of freedom before college. I didn’t understand. The day after high school graduation he was gone, without me.

+ + +

I stand in the same high school he ran away from and coach my first game of the season. It’s an exciting night, as I have high hopes for my girls. Admittedly, I might get a tad animated in my coaching, yelling out errors, and coaching encouragement to self-correct their positions. My setter has a shot at all-conference as does my libero. She’s small like I was but digs deep for the ball. Hannah Cassidy reminds me so much of myself. I want this to be a good year for her, and the University of Georgia has been scouting her. So have a few schools in California. They’re a long shot, but not impossible.

We win the game in two sets and I’m riding the high of a great start to our season. The girls take down the equipment as family and friends linger. The younger crowd will head out for a party. The older will end up at Blue Ridge Microbrewery and Pub. Some will drift to the true bar-bar—Ridge’s Edge—at the end of town. It’s more for locals, old men, and a few bikers. I’m looking forward to a celebratory drink or two when I look up and find Denton among the crowd. Feeling propelled toward him, I take the steps to close the distance. My heart races as if I’m seeing him for the first time despite the familiarity of our surrounding. Perhaps it’s the familiarity that accelerates my heart. We’ve stood in this gym a hundred times before, but this moment seems so much more meaningful.

“Hey,” he greets me, and I almost giggle from nerves and the irony of the word. How very Californian.

“What are you doing here?” I’m skipping the formalities. Denton looks around the gym and then glances up at the banners hanging near the ceiling. His brows pinch and I’m certain he’s reading his name. And Chris’s. He shrugs and returns his attention to me.

“Heard there was a game. This is the it place to be tonight.”

In small towns, we take our sports seriously. In this town, we take the winning sports most seriously, and I’m the winningest coach in the past eighteen years. Still, it makes no sense for this man, who ran from here faster than Dolores can make a milkshake, to be standing before me.

“We won,” I say, and my face heats as I’ve stated the obvious.

“I noticed,” he replies, his lip crooking like it did when he saw me at the diner. I suddenly feel ten feet too small compared to his six-two stature, and a million times the hillbilly I am. The other thing striking me and twisting my tongue is his voice. I haven’t heard his voice in twenty-seven years, and it’s not what I remember. Smooth. Edgy. Rockstar. His voice alone could melt panties, and I bet it did over the years. Of course, now I’m thinking about his mouth on panties, and his voice whispering things in places hidden on a woman, and I’m blushing even deeper.

Good Lord, I’m a mess. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was having a hot flash.