I do, the leather creaking under my weight as I settle in.
Coach exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw before fixing me with that steady, no-bullshit gaze. “You ready?”
I nod. “Yes, sir.”
His lips twitch, like he knows I’m just going through the motion. “Big couple of months ahead of you. Pro Day, draft day, and then it’s off to training camp.”
I nod again, shifting slightly in my seat. “Yes, sir.”
He studies me for another beat before leaning forward, resting his forearms on the desk. “Listen, I didn’t call you in here to go over logistics. You know all that already. I called you in here because…well, this is the last time you and I will sit in this office like this. I didn’t want to let you go without saying a few things.”
I sit up straighter, my chest tightening slightly.
Coach takes a breath, his voice quieter now but still carrying weight. “You’re one of the best players I’ve ever had the privilege of coaching, Montgomery. But more than that—you’re one of the best men I’ve had the privilege of coaching.”
My throat constricts with emotion.
He shakes his head slightly, a small, proud smile crossing his face. “You’re not just a hell of an athlete. You’re a leader. A teammate. Someone who makes the people around him better. And that’s rare, Jaxon. That’s real rare.”
I swallow hard, forcing myself to hold his gaze.
“I’ve watched you this past season, and yeah, the stats speak for themselves. The scouts love you. The media’s already talking about you like you’re the next big thing. But I want you to remember who you are through all of it.” He taps a finger against his desk for emphasis. “Because the man you are off the field is just as important as the player you are on it.”
I nod, unable to say anything past the lump in my throat.
Coach exhales, leaning back in his chair. “I won’t pretend this game won’t chew you up and spit you out if you let it. You’re stepping into a whole new world, son. But you—” He points at me. “You’ve got something special. You play with heart, and that’s gonna take you a hell of a long way.”
I finally find my voice, though it’s a little rough. “I appreciate that, Coach. More than you know.”
He nods, giving me a long, measured look. “Wherever you go, whatever team you end up with—don’t forget, this will always be home.”
That hits me harder than I expect. For the past year, thishasbeen home.
The locker room. The weight room. The stadium filled with screaming fans. The campus that holds so many of my best memories.
And Madison.
My jaw tightens.
Coach clears his throat, standing and extending a hand across the desk. “Good luck, Montgomery—not that you need it.”
I stand, gripping his hand firmly, shaking once. “Thanks for everything, Coach.”
He pats my shoulder once before dropping his hand. “Any time you’re in the neighborhood, you stop by, you hear me? Door’s always open.”
I nod. “Yes, sir.”
He gives me one last approving look before I turn to leave, stepping back into the hallway.
I exhale slowly, dragging a hand down my face before heading toward the exit.
One chapter is closing.
Another is about to begin.
And as much as I try to focus on that—on football, on my future—there’s still something lingering in the back of my mind.
Something I’m not ready to let go of.
