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Across from us is a row of chairs draped in black velvet reserved for the family to sit during the service. Standing beside the chairs is Ellie, who speaks to the woman sitting in the second chair.Holy shit, is that Melody Benson, the coach’s daughter?
I haven’t seen her in forever. I see an adorable kid sitting in her lap, hiding his face in his mama’s neck. The poor guy is probably overwhelmed and doesn’t know what’s going on—I’m an adult, and that’s basically how I feel.
“I’ll be right back,” I lean down and whisper to Riley. She looks back at me and nods.
I walk through the growing crowd, stepping up in front of the Benson family, and reach out, placing my hand on Ellie’s lower back to get her attention. Clearing my throat, I say softly, “I’m so sorry, Ellie.”
She spins around. “Oh, Cooper,” she sobs, throwing her arms around me.Fuck.I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood to push down the emotion. “I know he’s at peace, but my God, I’m going to miss him.”
“Me too,” I manage, hugging her closely, attempting to provide any form of comfort.
“Cooper Graham, look at you all grown up.”
I pull back from Ellie to find Melody standing beside her mother, the little boy still clinging to her in her arms.
“Hey, Mel, it’s been a long time. You look great.”
Melody passes off her son to Ellie before closing the distance between us. She laughs lightly. “Well, given the circumstances and the number of times my husband has told me I need to rest before I fall apart, I’ll take that as a compliment.” When she steps back, she reaches for her son, but Ellie waves her off, clearly embracing the strength her grandson is giving her.
“I’d say the same to you, Coop, but my parents always taught me not to lie.” Melody grabs my chin, tilting my head upward and examining the bruise coloring my cheek. She frowns and gives me a tilted stare.
“Hey, you should see the other guy,” I say shyly, putting my hands in my pants pocket.
Melody’s eyes lift over my shoulder toward where the Briggs family is standing. “Mm-hmm, I’m pretty sure I already did.”
A moment of silence passes between us, and I’m about to excuse myself to return to Riley’s side when Melody speaks. “I wanted to say thank you for bringing light to my father’s eyes recently. I know he was so worried about everything after his diagnosis, but then you came home, and he saw it as a sign or something that at least the team would all be okay.”
I scoff. “I don’t know that I would say that some form of a miracle took place or anything, but your dad meant a lot to me. Honestly, more than I think he could ever know.”
Melody shakes her head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Coop. He knew, and he loved you—all of you,” she says, inferring all of his players, “as if they were his own. According to him, I definitely wasn’t an only child. I had hundreds of brothers.”
We both laugh. That sounds exactly like something Coach would have said.
“Oh, I forgot. I was actually hoping I’d get a chance to talk to you here. If not, I had planned to stop by your mama’s house. I found this.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a folded white envelope. She unfolds it and holds it out between us. I see my name written in Coach’s shitty chicken scratch.
I stare at the envelope as if it holds all the answers to life’s grandest questions.
“Umm, thank you,” I say as more of a question, unsure how to respond as I accept it and place it in the inside pocket of my suit coat. “Well, I should get back.” I stuff my hands back in my pockets to keep from fidgeting.
“Promise me you won’t be a stranger, Cooper, okay?” Ellie says beside us.
“I promise,” I respond, not wanting to believe that just weeks ago, I’d made that same promise to Coach on his front porch but didn’t get the chance to keep it. “Ellie, please call me if you need anything. I don’t care what it is or what time of day.”
She cups my cheek with her palm. “Thank you. You’re such a sweet boy.”
With a quick hug goodbye to both of them, I make my way back over to my family. As if Riley could sense me as I approach, she extends her left hand out to me without breaking away from the conversation she’s having. I take her hand in mine, and she rests her other hand on my arm.
“You doing alright there, slugger?” she asks in a hushed tone. I smirk at the nickname.
“Yeah, baby.” I press a kiss to her temple.
The minister clears his throat from the front, alerting us that the service is about to begin.
“On behalf of the Benson family, I would like to thank you all for joining us today to celebrate the life of Verne Benson. He was a husband, father, grandfather, coach, and friend. I would like to begin with a prayer. Please bow your heads.”
After the prayer, the minister continues to speak, but I tune him out. I take that time to look around the crowd. There’s not a dry eye in sight, and the service has only just begun. I recognize players from my days as a student at Meadows Ridge High School and before. Coach Benson coached for forty-fiveyears. This place was his first full-time coaching position, and he never left. I know that there were plenty of offers for better gigs, including coaching at a collegiate level, but he always said this was home and we were family.
There have been hundreds, if not thousands, of baseball players he gave his advice and guidance to. My chest constricts at the thought of all the millions of players that won’t ever get the chance.
