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Despite the mindless tasks, I still couldn’t focus, overwhelmed by thoughts of Lark and where she fit into the whirlwind life of a football coach and his family. Before this, she’d had a whole life before blowing into Outtatowner and upending my world.
What would that even look like once the season started?
September to December would be the busiest time of the year—the actual football season. Then we’d go right into bowl-game preparations and meetings with other coaches across the country. By January I’d be traveling the US, prime recruiting season, scoping out potential players to fill the roster.
Thoughts of her sunny smile on the sidelines in MMU red and white as she, Pickle, and I celebrated a victory heated my chest. Even nights after a loss, it would be nice to come home to someone who would understand and listen to me bemoan the nuances of the game. Maybe even unleash some of that pent-up frustration by burying my face between her thighs.
But not just anyone.Her.
I loved Lark. That much was painfully obvious. Pickle had already told her so much. It had all happened so fast and without me realizing it. Lark had swooped into our lives—organized it and infused it with joy and laughter. I hadn’t acknowledged how much we’d needed that.
But it was selfish.
I did nothing but take, take, take from her.Organizemyschedule, watchmykid, be nice tomydad, keepmyplayers out of trouble.I had done nothing but take and then ask for more.
Did I love her or love what she could do for us?
I felt sick at the thought. I had unknowingly done to her what Bethany and so many others in my life had always done to me—used her because it was convenient.
I have a knack for that—feeling alone even in a crowded room, right next to someone.
Lark’s words flooded back to me, and I was ashamed of how epically I had failed her. From the beginning, she had quietly understood a fundamental part of me.
I didn’t deserve her sunshine or her smiles or sitting together in the dark feeling completely fulfilled and at peace.
Even if she did stay, our relationship was unbalanced. I had already pursued my dreams—set goals and gone after them relentlessly until I succeeded. Eventually she would realize that she deserved better. So much more thanme.
I frantically looked around my desk and scooped up my keys. I needed to talk with someone and figure out how the hell I was going to make this right.
* * *
I stoodfor what felt like hours outside the room, staring at the small plaque next to the door that readHaven Pines Room 1102. My thoughts raced, and indecision rooted my feet to the ground.
“He’s not in there, you know.”
I turned at the quiet voice and noticed MJ, Dad’s favorite nurse.The King girl.
With so many things roiling in my gut, I didn’t have the heart to even care that she was a King.
She smiled again. “He’s in the courtyard feeding the birds.”
“Thank you.” I frowned and turned back to the heavy wooden door to his room.
“He talks about you, you know.” I turned back toward her as she leaned an elbow on the small rolling computer cart.
I huffed a humorless laugh. “I’m sure you hear all about the Fairfield game.”
She smiled. “It does come up a lot.Hell of a game.” She imitated the gruff nature of Dad’s voice in an attempt to ease the tension between us.
I nodded. It was one of the memories that seemed to be on a loop in his head.
“But he also has the nurses google your name. He likes to read the articles.”
“Really.” The word came out incredulous, and I didn’t attempt to hide my doubt.
She lifted a shoulder. “On the good days.” MJ smiled and pushed the cart down the hallway before knocking on a door and disappearing through it.
The new information of Dad keeping tabs on me and my career, of wanting to know the man I had become and not just the player I was, did painful things to my insides. Nothing seemed to fit in my chest.
