Clara June sighs, resting a hand on her son’s arm. “Tanner, Coach Dean and I have already met. Remember?”
Tanner looks between us, then nods. And then, he’s asleep.
“He just kind of…” I step nearer and narrow my eyes at him. “Fell asleep.”
Clara June nods. “Honestly, that’s not out of character for Tanner. He’s tired and then he’s asleep. Add those pain meds and that seems about right.”
The nurse is done wrapping cords around devices now. “Yeah, that’s normal. I’ve been on for ten hours and he’s done that to me a few times.”
I shake my head. “That’s wild.”
Clara June looks up at me, and her eyes sparkle, a glint of mischief appears for a split second. “Can’t handle it, Coach?” she says, her voice a little thin, or maybe I’m imagining it. Hoping for it. I don’t know. But my groin tingles, and I exercise great restraint. And flexing down there.
“I just… I’ve never seen someone fall asleep so fast.”
She smiles. “Yeah, my little one just goes out like that, too.”
“Archie,” I say, remembering all the times I’ve seen him run by with a score at the farmer’s market. “He’s a wild one too. I like him.”
Her smile now feels affectionate, and her eyes fall to my lips for a moment, brief but definite. “You remember him?”
I shrug. “I can remember a lot of faces. I think that’s a built-in requirement for teachers.” I smile. “And I’ve seen him at the farmer’s market lots of times.” I clear my throat, and try to control the smirk twitching my lips. “Usually runnin’ past me with food he took.”
She sighs, but a smile lifts the corner of her lips. Only slightly, but enough to make my heart beat faster. “Yeah, I get how you can remember that.” She shrugs. “I feed him. I swear I do. But that kid, I think he thinks stolen food tastes better! He’s always stealing my neighbor's peaches and she’s always yellin’ at me about it.” She shakes her head, but eventually smiles at me. The waitress outfit is faded, and there’s food on it. But she looks so fucking good in it anyway.
“Growing kid,” I say. “I was a beast at his age. Unstoppable at the plate.”
Her brows knit. “The… baseball plate?”
“The dinner plate,” I laugh, and she laughs too, shaking her head as she palms her forehead.
“Duh. We were talking about food. Obviously,” she says. The end of her braid somehow ends up over her shoulder, resting on her breast. My pulse skips as I glance at it, imagining it wrapped around my fist.
“Wasn’t a good joke if you didn’t get it,” I offer, smiling.
“No, I think that was a me thing.” She smiles. “Anyway, yeah. Well. Thank you for waiting with me.” She looks at me for a minute, just staring into my eyes as she sits still. When she gets to her feet, I lick my lips and take a step nearer.
“No problem,” I tell her, putting my hat back in place on my head. She glances up at it, then meets my eyes.
“I really appreciate everything you’ve done for Tanner. Not just tonight.” The balls of her cheeks are bubble gum pink, and her smile alone makes me feel like I’ve done something good.
“No problem.” I glance at Tanner, but he’s out cold. “Tell him I’ll be by tomorrow?” I look at the nurse and then to Clara June. “Did they tell you when he’s getting discharged?”
“They want him completely immobilized for the next four days, and as long as things are looking good, they’ll send himhome in a sling then.” She glances at her son, now snoring lightly. “Could be a day earlier, depending on progress.”
I can’t imagine her having to take care of the other two boys, go to work, and try to be here as much as possible. “Well, I’ll be here tomorrow.” I suddenly have an idea, and fish my wallet from my back pocket. A couple years ago, West got me business cards. It was kind of a joke—if I had a card with my cell number and email on it, he’d hoped that I’d field some unhappy parent calls about old equipment and dying grass, not him.
It didn’t work—he still takes the complaints, and I still take the compliments. After all, he gets paid the big bucks for that as a director, not me. Regardless, I have a box of 500 business cards that read Dean McAllister, Bluebell Bruisers Varsity Football Coach, along with my number and email.
I pass her one of the cards, almost embarrassed that I have it. Most teachers don’t have business cards. It’s… weird. “Here. If you need anything, or, if Tanner does.” I tap my number.
She smiles, and stows the card away in the front pocket of her smock. “Thanks, Coach.”
With a tip of my hat, I say another goodbye, and I find myself treading down the hall, toward the exit doors, a little aroused by the sound of Clara June calling me coach.
CHAPTER
SIX
