The Love Playbook

by Suze Winegardner

  Mrs. Van Sant stood up. “I liked that young man. When I offered him a free sandwich, he refused and insisted on paying. I think he’s learned his lesson.”

  Mr. Duchamp stood again. “This isn’t about second chances—it’s about right and wrong.”

  Mr. Hardy stood up. “Dan, are you telling me you’ve forgotten how many chances you were given as a kid? You set fire to the Briggs’ barn when you were fifteen. You crashed your mom’s car because you’d been drinking when you were seventeen. There was that dumpster incident. This town forgave you and kept giving you chances. And look at where you are now. I’d say this is the place for second chances. Besides which, that young man volunteered to help me clean my store yesterday—he didn’t have to do that. He seemed like a good kid.”

  Avery blinked back tears. She wished Lucas was here to see this.

  “I have Coach Stone’s replacement right here. Do you have any words, Mr. Seymore?” Mr. Duchamp said, trying to take over the meeting again.

  Oh God, if he promised to take care of the players, to be the kind of coach her dad was, that was it, basically.

  Billy Seymore stood. “Well, I’d just like to thank you all for your confidence…” He frowned. It was clearly a prepared speech, as if he’d expected the town to get on board immediately, but the discussion had taken a different tack.

  A wave of chatter started with the players and parents, and in seconds, it escalated until it sounded like a full-blown riot was going to take place right there in the gym.

  Mr. Duchamp looked at Billy Seymore as if he were seeing him for the first time. Maybe Avery wasn’t the only person in Hillside prepared to keep her dad in his position.

  The principal banged his ring binder on the table. “Enough, ladies and gentlemen!” he bellowed. Silence fell. “Let’s all take a ten-minute break and then reconvene with calmer voices.”

  “Wait here,” Avery said to Lexi and LeVonn as she looked for her father through the crowd of people who had all just stood up.

  She waited at the side for him to come down from the platform. “I can’t believe you’re standing up for him now,” she said. “You saw him today?”

  “Mr. Hardy is right. Everyone deserves a second or third chance—as long as they own up to the God-awful mess they made. And he did to me.” He looked for something in his inside jacket pocket.

  Avery didn’t know what to think. She looked out at the crowd of people she’d known her whole life. A lot of them were backing Lucas, even though they barely knew him. Meanwhile, she actually did know him, but she was hesitating. He had hurt her. Maybe she had hurt him, too, but all she knew was that it hurt. And maybe that was what was stopping her from taking his side.

  “Here. He asked me to give this to you.” He held out a sealed envelope. “Do you want it, or do you want me to take care of it?”

  Slowly, she raised her hand and took it from his. It wasn’t just a letter; it was thick.

  He nodded and dived back into the throng of people.

  As she stared at her name on the front, her dad was shaking someone’s hand, repeating, “Second chances, am I right?” and, “Keep fighting.”

  Avery looked back toward Lexi and Colin, who were deep in discussion. She opened the envelope. First out was a short letter.

  Dear Avery,

  I can’t tell you how sorry I am for what’s happened. But I am. Deeply. It’s all my fault.

  But I don’t want to leave without being sure that you understand one thing:

  I love you. I’ve never felt the way I feel about you before. You came into my life when I was at my lowest and you saved me, in more than one way. Never, EVER think that this wasn’t real for me. You are the realest person I’ve ever met. I’ll never forget you.

  Yours, always,

  Lucas.

  Behind the letter were dozens of index cards. She peered at his terrible handwriting. Her heart squeezed as she realized what she was looking at. He’d made her SAT flash cards. From E to Z. The ones she’d been missing. The ones her mother hadn’t been able to finish. They’d obviously taken a while to finish, as they were written in different pens, and some were crumpled as if they’d been stuffed in a bag, and some were pristine, like he’d done them at home.

  The letter was enough. But the flash cards were…something else. He had never been afraid of the grief in her life. And this was something so close to her heart and her grief. She could have hated it—she didn’t at all—but she could have, and he still did them, because he knew she needed them.

  She crumpled the note to her chest for a second and then pulled it back again to re-read it. He loved her? The flash cards told her that he did.

  She walked back to Lexi as the principal called the meeting to order again, but her mind was elsewhere. The hurt was still there, but in the midst of it, a door cracked open. They could fix this. They could still make it work, she was sure.

  “I’m handing the mic back to Coach.” A few people clapped.

  Mr. Duchamp and Billy Seymore left the gym by the side door.

  Was that it? Was her nightmare about her dad losing his job over, just like that?

  “Anyway,” her dad said, “we plan on playing on Friday, and we plan on making it to the playoffs this year.”

  The team at the front of the gym cheered.

  “Will Lucas Whatever-his-name-is be playing?” a voice yelled. A rumble of laughter went through the gymnasium.

  “No. He left town a few hours ago. Wanted a clean slate somewhere else,” her dad said, his gaze on Avery.

  Avery’s mouth dropped open. He’d left? She’d never see him again? Fear and anger and sadness vied for a prominent spot in her churning stomach.

  Lexi grabbed her hand. “Let’s go find him.”

  God love that girl. Avery turned and hugged her.

  LeVonn shook the keys to his brother’s Jeep. “Come on, then,” he said, making his way to the door. They slipped out as quietly as they could with a six-foot five-inch guy rattling his car keys. “Sorry. Sorry.” LeVonn’s voice echoed as he bumped elbows with people.

  “Where do we look?” LeVonn asked as they left the parking lot.

  Avery looked at Lexi in the front seat. “I don’t know. I guess the bus station? Maybe Route 10? Mostly people hitch there.”

  The bus station was empty, and the next bus to Pecos didn’t leave for two hours. “I guess we’ll just drive the 10 for a few miles in each direction,” LeVonn said, taking the entrance ramp.

  Every mile they took, Avery felt hope slipping away. The wind blew in her face as she looked at the dusty landscape. “This is useless. He could be in Houston by now,” she said, defeated.

  “Not unless he was hitching in an airplane,” Lexi said. “Let’s come off and try the other direction.”

  LeVonn threw a U-turn on the mostly empty road, and they headed back to Hillside and then continued past the exit.

  As she always did, she looked out for Stan, her speed camera.

  “Oh…my…gahd!” Lexi shouted into the wind.

  Avery looked between the two front seats. There was a person standing in front of Stan, just looking at it. As the Jeep approached him, he turned around.

  LeVonn jerked the car onto the shoulder, skidding to a stop a few feet in front of Lucas.

  Avery sucked in her first full breath since the meeting.

  Lucas was still here. They’d found him.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Lucas had walked straight to the bus station after he’d spoken with coach and then just sat there as he watched buses come and go. He had enough for one ticket, but he couldn’t decide which direction to go. Cement plant that would tie him to one place or casual manual labor, which would give him some flexibility?

  Flexibility to do what? Just pick a direction. Any one.

  And yet, two hours late
r, he was still there, waiting for the perfect bus. It was crazy. Like that TV show where people tried to leave the town but somehow forgot how to. So instead, he’d grabbed a sandwich and soda from the station bodega and started walking along the 10.

  Numb. That was what he was striving for. Total numbness. That way, even if Avery crossed his mind, he wouldn’t feel anything. And of course, Avery was all he thought about. So much so that when he saw her in the backseat of a Jeep trying to run him over, he figured he was hallucinating.

  As the dust cleared, he saw LeVonn and Lexi and Avery just staring at him. Had they come to kill him and bury his body at the side of the road? He couldn’t even bring himself to care or blame them.

  For a couple of seconds, they just stared at one another.

  “Uh, Avery, honey? You wanna take this one? We’ll just talk amongst ourselves,” Lexi said, purposefully looking away from Lucas.

  Avery stood up on the seat and put her foot on the side of the Jeep and jumped out.

  He dropped his bag and reached for her, suddenly scared that she was going to hurt herself. He grabbed her just before she hit the ground, and her hands clasped his waist to steady herself.

  He closed his eyes and took a breath through his nose, just relishing the feeling of her touching him again.

  “Why are you here?” he asked, finally.

  “My dad gave me your letter,” she said. “And the flash cards.”

  Her eyes filled with tears, and she crushed her lips together as if she was trying hard not to cry. He wanted to hold her, but he wasn’t sure if she had come to say goodbye, to shout at him again, or not. Every cell in his body hoped for the not.

  “What can I do?” he asked desperately. He stretched his hands out, wanting so much to touch her, and to pull her to him, but not knowing if that was even okay, let alone what she needed. He’d stand there and listen to her shout at him for hours, too, if that was what it would take to stop her crying.

  Avery sniffed and looked away, across the dry fields toward town. Her chin stopped wobbling. “You can stay,” she said, not looking at him.

  He needed to see what was in her eyes, so he didn’t say anything until she actually looked at him. She caught his eye only briefly and then looked away again.

  And then he realized. She wasn’t sure about him. Even now. She was asking him to stay, not even knowing if he would. Or wanted to.

  Tightness gripped his throat as he choked back his own emotion. All he wanted was for her to know what was in his heart. “I love you, Avery.”

  She turned back to him, and her gaze met his, steadily this time. Her eyes still weren’t sure, though, and that wasn’t good enough for him.

  “I love you. And I’ll fix this if you give me a chance.” He swallowed. “Just a chance to make things right with you. To be your friend. Hell, I’ll even take acquaintance if you’ll let me be a part of your life. I mean, I’ll take anything, really.”

  “But you left,” Avery said.

  Now it was his time to look away. He took a deep breath. “It was a mistake. I got to the bus station, and I couldn’t decide which direction to leave in. So I started to walk, and every step that took me away from Hillside—away from you—felt heavy. Felt wrong. Just a few minutes ago, when I saw Stan, I realized that I needed to go back. To go home. I need to make up for what I did. To your dad, to the team, and to you. I don’t care how long it takes—I’m going to keep on trying to win your trust back. If you’ll let me. If you don’t…” His voice faltered as he contemplated her saying that she didn’t want him back.

  “I will,” she said.

  His head snapped up. “Wait, what? You will what?”

  She smiled, and he realized what she meant. “You’ll let me try win your trust back?” No force in the world could stop him grinning.

  “I will,” she repeated, her own smile widening.

  “Can I start right now?” He reached out a hand to her, and she took it. He gently pulled her close. “I’m sorry I made you cry.”

  “I thought you’d gone,” she said. “I didn’t like that.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll never leave again unless you send me away. I promise.”

  She held him tight. “I’m holding you to that.”

  He smiled over her shoulder. “You can hold me to anything.”

  “I think my dad will be happy you’re staying. He really stuck up for you in the meeting,” Avery said.

  “Oh, shit,” he said, pulling back from her. “Did they fire him?” He winced as he said the words. He’d been wallowing in his own misery so hard that he’d forgotten that Coach’s job was on the line, too.

  “No, they didn’t. The town rallied behind him and you.”

  He swallowed down a lump of emotion that was threatening to explode out of him. “You know your dad reminded me of the Hammers’ number one rule before I left. That’s what I remembered what it was when I saw Stan.”

  “Keep fighting,” she said, nodding slightly.

  “Yeah. And Stan reminded me how you’d never stopped fighting, no matter how bad things got. Even down to taking comfort from a freaking speed camera.”

  Avery snort-laughed. “Gee. Thanks.”

  He smiled. “The truth is you’re much stronger than I am. But I want to be as strong as you. And I want to keep fighting with you. For us. You and me, Avery.”

  She bit her lip and looked like she was trying to think of the right thing to say.

  “You don’t have to say anything. I’m prepared to put the work in to regain your trust. That’s all that matters to—”

  “I love you, too. Although, yeah, you totally have to work to regain my trust.” She grinned at him. “You’re going to work and work and work…”

  He picked her up and spun around, making her squeal.

  “Whatever it takes.”

  Epilogue

  A year later

  Avery had begun to realize that the slow hiss of an opening bus door was the best sound in the world. It set her excitement index up to eleven out of ten.

  It was a Pavlovian response. Her first semester of college psych had taught her that.

  She watched the people leaving the bus at the stop nearest her dorms until she saw Lucas. His face lit up as soon as he saw her. Her heart thumped. It did every time she saw him. Pretty much every time he smiled at her and definitely every time he gave her the look that meant he wanted to get her alone.

  A lot had happened in the year since she left Hillside for college. Her father had persuaded Mr. Duchamp to cut back his spending on the locker rooms and to offer a few scholarships every year instead. After a little reflection, Mr. Duchamp had realized that it was a nice feeling being the hero of the town instead of just the football team.

  Lucas hadn’t played in a Hammers game again, and they still managed to scrape through to the playoffs. But he turned up to most of their practices and helped Munch with his physical therapy. When Mr. Duchamp had offered him one of the new scholarships, he’d turned it down, so someone else—someone who hadn’t cheated, he said—could go to college.

  The concrete plant had still been hiring when they all graduated, and that’s where Lucas ended up. Working Monday through Friday at the plant, taking community college classes in the evening, and visiting Avery on the weekends.

  Every Friday afternoon, she’d go down to the bus station to find him. Every Friday afternoon, he’d get off the bus with a smile that slayed her. Life was good.

  Lucas got off the bus, dumped his bag on the ground, and picked her up, holding her tight against him. “You smell amazing,” he said, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He put her down and kissed her, oblivious to the people around them. “I missed you,” he said when he finally pulled away.

  “I missed you, too,” Avery said. “What do you want to do this weekend? I have a bunch of things in
my planner that we can do. The game is on Saturday, if you want to see it. There’s a reading tonight at the—” She stopped talking as she took in the expression on his face. “Or we could just go to my room and order in?”

  “Have I told you how much I love you?” he said in way of an answer.

  She put her hand in his and grinned. “Nope, but I have some ideas on how you can show me.”

  “As long as you’ve listed them out properly in your planner. I’d like to be able to check them off as I do them,” he replied as she led him up the street toward her dorm.

  “I haven’t, but if you give me half an hour when we get back to my room, I’d be happy to write them down for you.” She gave him an innocent look, knowing how her answer would be received.

  “Hell, no. I’m not waiting half an hour,” he said, wrapping his arm around her.

  “Okay, then, we better hurry.” She laughed, going faster until she was virtually speed walking.

  He laughed at her and matched her pace, until they were both sprinting to her dorm.

  He was running like his hair was on fire. Just to be alone with her. Every part of her was grateful he’d found her, grateful that he’d returned to her, and grateful he loved her the way he did. She was complete in the most amazing way possible. Secure and free at the same time. Free to try new things—things not even in her planner—because he was there, always at her back.

  Except when he was racing her to her room. Then he was usually in front.

  Everything that had been broken and fractured had fixed itself into a perfectly imperfect mosaic that blinded her with light and love. And Star Wars marathons.

  She was the luckiest girl alive.

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  Acknowledgments

  I’d like to thank my husband, and Tom Dunaway, for their football expertise, and to Emily Berry, Brooke Thomas, Heather Holland-Wareham, Lorelei Hass Stenseth, and Dan Galvin, for answering my football-related questions online. Any mistakes in this book are all their fault.