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He was still smiling as he answered, “Slim to none. And once you pass forty, everyone younger than you becomeskid, it’s an unwritten rule of getting old, I guess.”
I looked over the man who’d been my mentor and closest friend. He looked like he could get out on the field tomorrow and not have a problem keeping up with anyone. “Old my ass. You’re in better shape at forty-five than most twenty-somethings I know.”
He patted his non-existent stomach and waved me over to take the seat across from him before returning to his own. “It’s the shit behind the curtain that’s falling apart, believe me. I was at the gym the other day and when I stood from the bench press, both my knees creaked and rattled like they were full of loose change.”
I threw my head back on a bark of laughter. It felt damn good to laugh, given the funk I’d been in the past two days. Ever since that morning on the beach—the morning of the best fucking kiss of my entire goddamn life—I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the look in Presley’s eyes when she told me to stay away from her.
It had gutted me. Nothing compared to the burn I felt in my chest at the pain in her eyes. Not even when the doctors told me I’d never regain full mobility in my shoulder. Not even the day I retired from the NFL, the only job I’d ever had. The only fucking thing I knew how to do.
I’d put that pain there. She’d been right, I didn’t have any business kissing her the way I did. But she was wrong to think I’d only come back to fuck up her life. That had never been my intention. I wasn’t the same kid I’d been back when she’d known me. I’d done a hell of a lot of growing in these past ten years. But more importantly, I had more power than I’d ever had before. In the past, my father had been able to hold shit over my head to make me bend to his will.
Not anymore.
That was done. I was my own goddamn man, and I was here to claim what was mine. It might have been one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do, letting her walk away that morning on the beach, but I understood why she needed space. However, if she thought I’d let her run from me, she was dead wrong. I’d give her time to cool off, to wrap her head around the idea of us, but I’d be damned if I was going to do what she said and leave her alone.
A kiss like that didn’t happen unless there was something incredibly profound behind it. She wanted me. I felt that down to my bones, and I wasn’t letting her get away this time.
“So how are things?” Sam asked, pulling me back to the present. “I’m so glad we were finally able to do this.”
A prickle of guilt crept along my spine. Sam had done so much for me, not just with the new job, but more than I’d ever be able to put into words. Despite being much closer to me in age, Sam was more of a father figure to me than my own had ever been. When I thought about what it took to be a good coach, I thought of Sam. Whenever I felt like I was failing, I’d ask myselfwhat would Sam do? He was who I tried to emulate when it came to my team. I wanted them to look back on their time playing college ball and hold me in the same regard I held Sam Killborne.
The man had changed my life and he didn’t even know it. He was the reason I’d gotten out. Why I’d been able to start over somewhere else without Hank Ward’s boot pressing down on my neck, keeping me beneath him. It was because of him I had a shot that eventually led to the career most football players could only dream of.
I should have made more of an effort. I should have made time for him and Monica since I came back.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been a shitty friend. I let myself get so busy; it’s been overwhelming.”
“Don’t worry about it. We get that you have a lot going on. You’ve basically started your life over. We’re not taking it personally. Well, at least not yet. You might only have another week or two with Monica, so I suggest you take her up on the offer of the homemade dinner she gave me strict instructions to invite you to later this week. I think she’s starting to worry you’re working too hard and not getting out enough.”
It had been a month and a half since my move back to Whitecap, and, honestly, other than the reunion and that one night out at Dropped Anchor, I hadn’t done much else. Most of it was due to settling in while also preparing my team for the upcoming start of the season, but I had to admit, a small part of me hadn’t ventured out too much because I wanted to avoid a run-in with my father for as long as possible. This brunch—or lunch, or whatever the hell—marked my third time out for something social.
“Tell her I’m there. Just text me the day and time, and I’ll make it work.”
“You got it.” The waitress swung by to fill drinks and take our order as I told Sam all about the job at OU. I told him how I thought it was going so far, and about the one day I let my mood effect my coaching. If there was anyone I’d lean on for support or advice, it was Sam. I knew he’d never lead me astray.
He looked across the table at me, understanding in his sharp gaze. “Give yourself some grace, Beau. You’re new to this. Not to mention, the stuff with your mom was heavy as hell. You’re only human. You aren’t going to be perfect. You know what you did wrong, and you corrected it. That’s the makings of a good coach right there.”
I lifted my water and took a drink, wishing it was a beer, but even though I didn’t play professionally anymore, old habitswere hard to break and I still found myself eating the same as I did when I had someone planning and prepping all my meals for me. “I hope you’re right.”
Sam gave me dry look. “I’m always right. Besides, the fact you’re worrying means you care. As long as you care, you’re good. Trust yourself. You’ve earned it.”
Maybe I had. Or maybe he was just being kind. After all, it was hard to trust myself when I remembered what I’d done to Presley in the past to put that look in her eyes.
For all the good Sam saw in me, I still had Hank Wade’s blood coursing through my veins, and I would have been lying if I said I didn’t worry constantly that I’d turn out to be a miserable prick like him.
We dove into our meals, and damn if he wasn’t right. The bacon was out-of-this-world good. I took a second bite of the BLT with avocado I’d ordered and moaned as my eyes rolled back in my head. Instead of plain mayo, they’d used a garlic aioli—whatever the hell that was—and the flavors, along with the crispiness of the bacon, the freshness of the vegetables, and the homemade bread, were outstanding. “Jesus,” I muttered around a full mouth, “who knew a BLT could be so damn good?”
Sam nodded smugly, grinning around his own bite. “Told you.”
“That you did, man. Looks like I just became a brunch person, also.”
We didn’t do much talking as we scarfed down our food like we were two pre-teens who’d been fasting for a week and were finally diving into our first meal, but I managed to tell him how I was coming along with the house and other light topics of conversation. The one thing we steered clear of was my parents. Sam never pushed me to talk about them, but always let me know the door was open if I ever wanted to confide in him.
He hated Hank Wade almost as much as I did. There were countless times when I was younger when Sam had wanted so badly to drag me into the sheriff’s station and show them the bruises on my chest and stomach—my dad’s favorite places to hit me—so they could arrest his ass. I would have loved to have seen that. But I knew it would have killed my mom, and I couldn’t do that to her.
Even though he’d never once spoken poorly about my mother, I knew by the way his jaw would tense and the vein in his forehead would bulge, that he wasn’t her biggest fan. He didn’t like that she always defended her husband and kept pressuring me to talk to him.
I’d just popped the last bite of my sandwich into my mouth and was already contemplating ordering another as I chewed when I felt a shift in the atmosphere, like the air had become magnetized.
