Just got home from football. I’m not going out.
Where are you anyway?
Take a guess
[Photo]
Through the text message comes a photo, and I nearly gasp at what’s in frame. Though it fully was not her intention, as the photo is framed around Lassoed and Loaded’s jukebox, still, there he is.
Coach Dean. Standing at the bar with… I squint at the photo, recognizing the Bluebell athletic director, but unable to place his name. They’re both still in blue jeans and Bruiser polos, cowboy hats on their heads, sweating bottles of beer in their hands. In the periphery are two women wearing Daisy dukes and knee-high cowboy boots. In a matter of seconds, the photo makes me feel hot, and excited, then sad, and lonely.
I text her back.
Lassoed and Loaded! Have fun.
Play Wheel in the Sky for me!
I stuff my phone in my pocket, and trudge down the hall, stepping over a heap of sneakers that are all tied together by the lace (why?), and push into my room. I start the bath and undress, briefly contemplating bringing my waterproof vibrator to the tub.
It’s been so long since I was able to finish. So long that I’m not even sure I can anymore, and after such a long day, I don’t want to ruin the peaceful evening alone with disappointment from my broken body.
Instead, I soak in a bath then go to bed.
CHAPTER
TWO
DEAN
The bell rings,but Tanner stays behind. He doesn’t always stay back, but from time to time I let him sit in my classroom during lunch so he can study history. He’s a smart kid—grades and education are just as important as playing football. I tell all ofmy boys that.
“Glad you stayed back,” I tell him as he pulls his notebook from his open backpack, resting at his feet. It’s worn, and if I had to guess, I’d say Tanner Colt is no stranger to hand-me-downs.
“Yeah?” he says, clicking the end of his mechanical pencil.
“Yeah,” I tell him, taking a seat at the table directly across from him. I stack one boot on top of the other after outstretching my legs. “You know West—eh, Mr. Dupont? The athletic director?”
Tanner nods. West Dupont is new to Bluebell, well, new by Bluebell standards. Meaning, he’s lived here the better part of six years, but is one of the few people not from here. He and I get along real nice, sharing a passion bordering on obsession for high school sports and doing them right. He spends most of his time in his office, but the students who have had the pleasure of getting to know him, like him.
“He told me after the game that one of his buddies watched you. One of hisscoutbuddies.” My lips curve into a smile that matches the one Tanner wears. “Said if you keep it up, you’ve got a scholarship waiting for you next year.”
His face rumples. “But, I’m a sophomore,” he counters, confused.
I smirk. “The earliest a player can accept a scholarship for college is September 1st of his junior year. So as long as you keep those grades up and that arm healed, come next year at this time, you’re as good as gold.”
Tanner nods in understanding, but the happiness only lasts a moment. He taps his finger on the paper he dug out of his bag. “I failed my history test and I have a D.”
I glance back at the clock. “You got twenty minutes to study.” I eye his bag. “You bring a lunch?”
He shakes his head. “Forgot it,” he winces, then adds, “my mom’s gonna be pissed. She despises wasted food.”
“All parents do. Wasted food is wasted money,” I tell him, then glance back at the clock again, weighing my options. “I’ll pop over and get us something to eat. You stay here and study. Got me?”
Tanner nods. “Thanks, Coach.”
After a win, it’s tradition for me and the boys to get a beer at Lassoed and Loaded, but after a particularly long day at school, we have the same tradition. Cold beers, a little bitching, a lot of eating questionable nuts out of a shared bowl, and if there’s time, some more cold beers.
Marcy slides four long neck bottles down the bar, and Jake snatches them and passes them out. We each tip them back in a moment of much needed silence.
