One Look: A grumpy, single dad small town romance(55)

Depending on their positions, each player had the opportunity to work on passing, skill and combo drills, and scrimmages. As I walked on the field, a group of comically large kids—the big dogs—were ready to start work with my lineman staff. I nodded at them as I passed, ignoring the whispers as I found the group of coaches running the individual training squads.

“Great turnout, Coach.” Ricky, my offensive coordinator, crossed his arms and looked out onto the field.

“As it should be. We’ve got one of the best teams in the country.” My eyes skated over the small clusters of hopefuls. If they were lucky, maybe one or two would have a shot at the NFL. If that were the case, they had four years to prove their worth, and it all started right here. “Maybe we’ll round up a few more before fall.” I clamped a hand on Ricky’s shoulder. “Let’s get ’em started.”

“Should I run the dog piss out of them?”

I huffed a small laugh. “Nah. We’ll go easy on them for now. Normal warm-up.”

Ricky nodded and blew his whistle. I scanned the schedule on my clipboard, making notes on how I’d spread my time over the one-day training camp. It was important to me to meet each player. Hear a bit about his story. The way he spoke about his high school career, future goals, and even his family told me a lot about a player.

The university had struggled in the past with players getting too big for their britches—kids thinking they were hot shit on campus and ruining any chance at the pros over drugs, reckless nights, or injuries.

Things like broken pinkies.

I shook my head at the sheer ridiculousness of Joey’s injured hand. So far the best thing for him had been to hang low in Outtatowner and stay out of trouble, but his cocky smile and carefree attitude still made him very popular with the girls.

I also need to talk with him about that.

My eyes scanned the nearly empty stadium. It was only a few minutes past noon, and even though I’d told Lark to show up around three, I looked for her.

For hours, I looked for her.

We ran the kids hard. They needed to know that university ball was a step up from their small towns and high school glory days. At Midwest Michigan University, you didn’t fuck around—not while I was coach.

After a grueling afternoon, I was ready to give them a break. The coaches gathered the players in a semicircle, and I stepped onto a small platform so I could look out onto the field. Several of them had a lot of potential, and a few even caught my eye. I’d be having some serious conversations with the other coaches, comparing notes and deciding whether we’d be making any offers for the open positions.

As I began my speech, my eyes snagged on Pickle, grinning and waving wildly from the first row of stands. She was across the field, but her little arms were flying above her head. My heart pitched and I smiled, but I continued to speak with the players and field questions.

One kid, a quarterback from Iowa with serious potential for greatness, raised his hand. I pointed at him and nodded for him to speak up.

“So what’s the secret, Coach? How do we make it onto the team?”

The players around him laughed. That was what everyone wanted to know—how to make the team and make it big.

I watched Lark walk up behind the players, Pickle bouncing in front of her and my father at her side. My stomach tightened as I watched them and considered the quarterback’s question.

“Always work hard. Never give up. It’s a game, have fun.” Those were words my dad always said to me before a big game or a big decision. I gestured toward Dad and the players’ heads turned in his direction. “That’s what he’d always tell me before every single game.”

Dad looked at me with clear eyes and a smile, and the roiling in my stomach settled for the briefest moment. “If you can figure that out, you’ll be successful on my team.”

As I stepped down, Ricky took over, instructing the players how to sign out and where to go for the tour of campus. I jogged toward my family.

My family.

The errant thought hit me like a ton of bricks, and my steps faltered on the turf. Thankfully, I scooped Penny into a hug to hide my nerves.

“This is a surprise.” I smacked a kiss on Penny’s cheek and smiled at Lark. She looked nervous, so I shot her a wink.

“Penny and I went to see Red this morning, and he wanted to tag along. I hope that’s okay. I read somewhere that exercise is good for . . . you know. A walk around campus is just what we need, right, Red?”

Dad stepped up to shake my hand. “Fine speech you gave, Son. Nice to know my talks didn’t always land on deaf ears.”

My throat tightened, and I couldn’t find the words to respond. Dad was here, in my element, without that confused, dazed look in his eyes. It was clear Lark had also looked up or talked with his nurses about his condition, and that left my chest feeling tender and strange. Lark was shifting things, and I wasn’t altogether sure how I felt about that, but deep down I knew it wasn’t all bad.

“Papa Red, they have snacks!” Penny pulled my dad’s hand and led him to the table stacked with Gatorade, water, chews, and energy bars to keep the players hydrated and energized during the grueling day.

“Just one, Pickle. Those are, like, ninety-nine percent sugar and caffeine.”

Her eyes bugged with forbidden delight. Wrong thing to say.

I turned to Lark. “She’ll be bouncing off the walls.”