Carter’s face went pink as he dropped into the chair across from her. “Itold youhe doesn’t like me,” he whispered.
“He likes you fine. He thinks you’re trying toseduceme, or whatever. And won’t listen to any of my assertions that we aredefinitelyjust friends.”
His face went blank a moment. “Oh. Okay, well.” He unwrapped his sandwich. “It’s good he’s protective, I guess.”
“It’s ridiculous, is what it is.” She took a bite of her own sandwich and chased it with coffee. “Subject change: you were dressed like that yesterday, too.” She nodded toward his outfit: shorts and t-shirt, sneakers, no cut or wallet chain in sight. “You hitting the gym? I thought Ghost had a weight room at the clubhouse.”
“No. He does. I’m…” He hesitated, regarding his sandwich with undue attention. “I’m actually doing some coaching.”
“Of…?”
“The varsity quarterback over at the high school. I’m helping him work on his long ball.”
Thatwasn’t what she’d expected at all.
Whatever her face did in response, it had him saying, in a rush, “It’s nothing official. I’m not charging him or anything. I wouldn’t even call itcoaching, really. We’ve met a few times at the park, and I’m giving him some pointers. He already had the raw talent, it was just that he needed some tips, and Coach isn’t–”
“Breathe, Carter.”
He exhaled unsteadily.
“I think that’s great,” she said, and meant it; hoped he could hear that she meant it. “It’sgreat,” she repeated. “I was surprised is all, because you’re…” Belatedly, she realized what she was about to say, and the way it might be perceived.
“A criminal?” he guessed, rueful smile pulling at his mouth. He looked unbearably sad in that instance.
She wished she could start over, but that wasn’t possible; all she could do now was try to smooth what she’d already said. “No, not that. I’m pro-Lean Dog, remember? But I didn’t know if you were still involved in anything football related.” Gently: “Sometimes it’s hard to pick back up where you left off when your role is different. It’s probably hard to be the coach instead of the athlete.”
His brows lifted, and his face smoothed with surprise. “Actually…it’s not as hard as I thought.”
“Really?”
“No. I thought it would be. I have a hard time watching a game sometimes. It feels like I’m left out. And I thought it would be that way working with Elijah, but…” She watched realization break over him, as golden and beautiful as a sunrise, his blue eyes dancing with light beneath the soft glow of the overhead lamps.
God, it was a good thing she didn’t go for pretty boys, because sometimes Carter was gorgeous enough to stop a girl in her tracks.
“Watching him get better makes me feel good, you know?” he said, nearly wondrous. He’d set his sandwich down, and was talking with his hands now, gesturing with an easy excitement she hadn’t seen in him since she got back to town. “And I’m getting to be a part of it without, you know, my dad breathing down my neck about how I better earn the team fee. Without all that pressure.” He shook his head. “I threw up before every college game I played. And…” He’d been winding up the whole time, fervor blazing in his eyes.
He bit his lip now, and seemed to shrink, his gaze withdrawing. When he turned his lip loose, and took a breath, it shivered. The coffeeshop faded to a blur of noise and light around them; Leah felt like they were insulted, tucked away, just the two of them. A frisson moved through the air, a sudden, unexpected intimacy.
One ripe for a confession. “You know,” he said, looking up through his lashes, a blast of blue under dark fringe, “the day I got hurt. I almost…shit, this is bad. I shouldn’t…” He shook his head again – but his gaze found hers again, too, and wouldn’t let go.
She wasn’t sure she was breathing.
“I was relieved,” he admitted, and his shoulders dropped afterward. He’d been carrying that, she realized, for years now, and based on the sudden, total loss of tension from his body, she didn’t think he’d told a soul. “It was so much, being on that stage, and having all of that riding on me. Knowing people back home were watching me on TV every Saturday, knowing it was my one shot, and that so many things could blow it for me. Knowing I was done – and that it wasn’t because I couldn’t cut it, or because I quit – but because of something outside my control. God, it was a relief.”
He sat back and wiped a hand down his face, grimacing when he realized that he’d wiped sandwich grease down his cheek.
Wordlessly, Leah offered him a napkin.
“Wow. Okay. I’m a jackass,” he said. “How many guys would have killed to be where I was, and I was glad it was over.”
“You’re not a jackass.” She finally found her voice. “That kind of pressure eats away at a person. It’s awful sometimes, even if you’re doing something you love – even if it’s the thing you lovemost.”
He sent her a doubtful look.
“I actually finished college,” she joked. “So trust me: I know what I’m talking about.”
He snorted, and smiled, and he was radiant with that relief he’d just laid on the table between them.
