by Jean Oram
“If you’re true to yourself, then what will happen will happen,” Ryan said, his voice soft. “And always remember there’s no stopping what feels right in someone else’s heart. That’s not you, it’s them.”
“But what if I stay in Sweetheart Creek? What if I just keep working on the ranch and don’t take any scholarships?”
“You need to live your life, Blake. If Robyn truly loves you, and not just what she can take from you, she won’t want you to stop growing and expanding. She won’t sabotage you when you’re following your dreams.”
“And?” the teen asked, as if sensing there might be more.
“And if all else fails…” Ryan let out a sigh, palms raised in surrender “…enjoy what you have for as long as you can.”
From his spot on the sidelines, Ryan turned, looking out at the crowd. It was reasonably mild for the first week in December and the weather shouldn’t be a problem in tonight’s game to determine the quarterfinal winner for their little chunk of Texas. The Torpedoes were officially in the top eight of all high school teams their size, and they’d taken to the field for their warm-up with an energy that could carry them right on into the top four. Fans were waving their homemade signs, and on the sidelines the cheerleaders were performing what looked like a new routine.
All members of the Torpedoes were present, and things were as they should be. And yet Ryan felt as though he was in a giant bubble, with everything around him not quite real.
“I saved seats for April and Brant,” Jackie said excitedly, grasping his arm to get his attention.
“She only left Heath a few days ago.”
Jackie shrugged. She was decked out in the team’s colors, with a red Torpedoes T-shirt squeezed over a white sweatshirt, white leggings under a denim miniskirt, and white cowboy boots. She looked more like one of the cheerleaders than a stats keeper. Ryan noted Carly was wearing a similar outfit, and his heart lifted, knowing she was here for him and the team. She wasn’t family, but she supported him, no questions asked, as though she was bound by blood. Which meant she truly cared. Because if she didn’t, Carly Clarke would have surely stalked off to do her own thing by now.
Either that or she had a deep-seated agenda, like Priscilla had.
Ryan shook off his unwelcomed paranoia. During the long bus ride to the game, he’d told Blake to follow his gut. He’d told the teen to enjoy his life as it was, and that was what Ryan planned on doing with Carly. Enjoy it while it lasted.
As though sensing his thoughts were on her, Carly turned his way and smiled. Without thinking, he smiled back. Yeah, his gut said she was okay. Maybe even more than okay.
Beside him, Jackie was still nattering on, as Dan, the team manager, came to join them.
“Carly a permanent thing?”
Ryan did a double take.
“With the team. Henry was asking if we ran a criminal check on all of our volunteers.”
Ryan caught Dan looking toward Carly in question. “Oh. Uh, no. She’s not supervising students or in direct contact without one of us present.” He hadn’t even thought to run her through the school’s volunteer paperwork. Where was his head? “I’ll check with the principal on Monday.”
Dan nodded and went to help a player wrap his wrist.
“What’s with the twin stuff?” Ryan asked, gesturing to Jackie’s outfit.
“Jenny ordered them in for us. Laura’s wearing hers, too, but Karen said no. She has to wear her cheer manager stuff. Laura looks super hot in her outfit, and I think Levi’s going to propose to her this weekend—” She broke off abruptly, her eyes going wide. “I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to hear about stuff like that.” She squeezed his arm again, and he looked at her strangely while pulling free from her grip.
“Why not?” Just because he was the black sheep of the family didn’t mean he didn’t want to know what was going on in everyone’s lives.
“Well, after that thing with Priscilla…” Jackie’s voice was hushed, as though that might make him less susceptible to any lingering pain. “You must have been heartbroken.”
“Mostly just ticked off.” He adjusted the headset that allowed him to talk to his quarterback during the game, as well as to Myles if he went into the bleachers to get a different view of the action. Ryan hoped that would give Jackie the hint it was game time, not gossip time.
He glanced at Carly, hoping she needed Jackie’s help. But she was holding up the stats-taking tablet, snapping photos that would likely end up in the school’s yearbook or on Sweetheart Creek’s town news website. She pivoted in her folding chair, sending Ryan a bright, happy look that lifted Ryan’s mood.
“Say cheese,” she called out.
“Feta,” he said, refusing to smile.
She frowned at the screen and shook her head. “It looks like you’re about to swear. Don’t say feta.”
Jackie put her arm around Myles, bringing him closer so she could squeeze between him and Ryan for the next photo. She beamed at Carly. “Cheese!”
Ryan was sure Carly got a picture of him rolling his eyes. He disentangled himself and turned his focus back to his players. Right now he needed to know which guys were spooked by how far they’d made it in the playoffs and which ones were channeling the energy. He didn’t need to get distracted by photos or how gorgeous Carly looked in red. Although he liked the idea of her wanting a picture of him.
He stood beside Myles and watched Hernandez finish leading the team through their warm-up movements, then some ball tossing and practice tackles, as well as a few pranks and jokes to take the edge off. A throw came too close to the sidelines and Myles jumped, knocking the ball out of the air before it could hit either of them.
“They’re jittery,” he remarked.
Ryan nodded, then gestured to his brother and the direction of the save he’d just made. “Maybe I should find you a jersey and put you in.”
“I do miss it.”
“Hey, how did that course go?” Myles, who had hated every single second of school and acted like a tortured POW when it came to homework, had recently enrolled in an online coaching course to increase his credentials, as well as move him up the coaching pay grid. Ryan admired the fact that his brother, who was challenged by dyslexia, was giving it his all. “When’s your final?”
“I took it on the weekend.”
“You did? When do you hear back?”
“I already did.”
“And?” Ryan asked, surprised he’d said nothing. Which meant it couldn’t be good. Myles tended to not talk about stuff like school or reading, or anything else that made him feel incompetent or stupid.
“I made Karen read the email, but not tell me what it said.”
“What did her expression say?”
Myles shrugged. “I couldn’t tell.”
“You couldn’t tell?” The couple had been joined at the hip for what felt like months now. How could Myles not read her expression? Sure, Karen kept things close to the chest, but Ryan could already tell what Carly was feeling just by glancing at her expression, and the two of them weren’t anywhere near official.
Ryan held out his hand. “Give me your phone. I’ll read the email and tell you.”
Myles took a step back. “I don’t want to know. Not until after State.”
“That’s weird. You know that, right?”
“Go away,” he said, his tone flat as he began walking off. He moved in among the players, offering words of encouragement, reminding them of little tips, and generally being a brilliant coach. Whether or not his brother passed was of little consequence as far as Ryan was concerned. Myles did all this naturally, correcting technique flaws before Ryan often recognized they existed. Myles liked to tell the world Ryan was the technical coach, but it was Myles who picked up on the nuances of technique and form without even realizing it. The two worked well together and Ryan hoped they could coach together for a long time. Maybe even when they had their own sons to coach.
Surprised by the thought,
Ryan cast another glance in Carly’s direction. She had a pen between her lips and was chewing thoughtfully on its cap. She was adorable. Smart. Trustworthy. Somehow, she had pulled more secrets out of him in the last few weeks than his entire family had over the past half decade.
Something hard hit Ryan and he landed on the turf with a harsh exhale as the wind was knocked out of him.
“Sorry, Coach!” Hernandez said, jumping to his feet beside him. He grabbed Ryan’s arms and pulled him up. “Are you okay? I thought you saw me coming.”
Ryan wheezed, willing air back into his lungs. Shaken, he bent over to dust off his legs, even though they didn’t need it, trying to hide that he couldn’t yet breathe. Slowly his ability to draw air returned, and he straightened, waving off Blake’s apologies. “Sorry. My fault.”
What on earth? He never got taken out while standing on the sidelines, and he’d just been flattened by his quarterback, because he’d been thinking about Carly.
That woman was a danger to life as he knew it, for sure.
He looked around to see if anyone else had noticed the incident. About ten feet away, Myles was smirking, his eyes sliding to where Carly was sitting.
Please, let her have missed that photo opportunity.
Ryan stared at Carly for a long moment to see if she was hiding amusement. She didn’t once smile, her thoughtful gaze focused on the opposing team as they warmed up. He realized that even if she’d seen him, she wasn’t the type to laugh. She would have come running over, her soft hands pressing into his back and stomach, her sweet, fresh scent filling his nostrils as she worried over him. It almost made him want to get hit all over again, but this time to catch her attention before impact.
He felt his chest expand with happiness. The only reason Carly Clarke spent time around him was because she liked him. He let out a soft chuckle, turning away. Him. Of all the men to choose from, she liked him. Beautiful Carly, whose red shirt brought out the different browns and pinks of her darker skin tone, liked him. Serious and aloof Ryan.
“Did I tell you I like that woman?” Myles murmured, walking by.
“Just because she’s my girlfriend, it doesn’t mean I’m going to lose my independence,” Ryan said, instantly defensive.
Myles leaned in with a grin. “She makes you let your guard down and say stuff you don’t intend to.”
They won their quarterfinal game by a narrow margin, meaning the Torpedoes would carry on to the semifinal game next Saturday afternoon. And if they won that one, move on to compete in the state championship game. They were officially a top-four team in their division. Scouts would look at his boys and scholarships might be offered, changing lives. Ryan hoped Karen was still willing to help tutor his academically struggling players toward the grades they’d need to move on to college.
His adrenaline waned as he sat in the high school gymnasium of the opposing team. Their hosts had set up tables for the team and cheerleaders to enjoy their potluck meal before they headed home. By the time they finished eating and climbed aboard the bus, another hour would have gone by, and they wouldn’t get home until well after midnight. Ryan would have preferred to eat before the game, but most of the players were too nervous to down much, and it was a tradition to eat afterward. At least it wasn’t a school night.
The room was buzzing, with likely at least a hundred people present, from players and cheerleaders to their parents and coaches, and extended family. It was Sweetheart Creek’s hospitality all wrapped up into one big room miles away from home. And as always, the hometown support had been fabulous.
While Ryan welcomed the distraction of the gentle thumps on the back and general camaraderie of the community, he also wished everyone would go their own way so he could focus on what they needed to do to win next week’s game. He had to sit down with Myles, Carly and Jackie to look over the day’s stats and finesse a plan for beating next week’s opponents, which would be even more difficult.
But everyone wanted to celebrate, which meant right now he had to exercise one of his weaker skills—being patient.
Ryan pulled a chair to where Myles, Karen, Levi, Laura, Jackie, Brant, April, Kurt and his mother were already sitting. The round table was made for eight, but as per tradition, he knew his family would all squeeze in, adding more and more chairs until nobody could reach to set down their plate.
“Good game tonight,” his mom said, addressing both him and Myles.
“I heard the team we’ll meet in semifinals has a similar win-loss ratio. It might be tough to proceed,” Ryan said.
“Be positive,” Jackie told him.
“I am positive. Positive we need to have a sound strategy in place as well as work hard.” Ryan turned in his chair, scanning the room for a familiar head of curls. “Where’s Carly? She said she wouldn’t be long.”
He’d introduced her to Honorée Smith, a woman he’d met in one of his permaculture classes, and the two had started talking about seeds and organic fertilizers. Ryan checked his watch, then scanned the room again in case he’d missed Carly. A quick glance said she had either sat somewhere else or was still outside talking. Surely she knew to squeeze in with him?
“She’s a great gal,” his mom said. She’d taken the saltshaker from the middle of the table and was attacking her fried chicken. “Smart, too. I like her.”
“Did her chickens start laying?” Brant asked, handing April a biscuit from his plate. She thanked him and broke it in two, offering half to her son.
“She said she got three the other day,” Maria said. “Maybe it’s the feed. If they don’t like it or its poor quality, then forget about eggs.”
“She’s already changed it once,” Brant said.
The table was silent for a moment as everyone focused on eating. From the next table over, Davis Davies, the Sweetheart Creek radio station DJ and father of one of the players, said, “Good game today, boys.”
“Thanks,” Myles said, then turned back to his plate.
“You gonna take it all the way this year? Bring home the championship?”
“Of course,” Ryan said mildly.
“Looks like Hernandez has his head back on straight. Don’t muck it up.”
To Ryan’s surprise, his mom tossed down her paper napkin. “Davis, enough. We all know you want your son to have this win. Everyone’s working hard. If it’s meant to be it’s meant to be. Let it rest. I don’t see you out there coaching.”
“Hey!” The man raised his hands, leaning back in his chair. “I was just saying. I’m not as football-crazed as some parents.”
The Wylder brothers shared a look. Davis had more ejections from the stands by game officials than any other spectator because of his erratic behavior.
“What’s with the new girl on the sidelines?” Davis asked.
“Girl?” Ryan said, bristling.
“Yeah, the dark chick. Why’s she there all of a sudden? She some secret weapon?”
Almost everyone at Ryan’s table seemed to stiffen as one.
“You mean Carly Clarke,” Myles growled, before Ryan could. “She’s an expert stats keeper and her skin color is irrelevant.”
Davis raised his hands again. “Just describing her. Don’t freak out.” He turned back to his meal, his face red with embarrassment.
“Thanks,” Ryan said, lifting his chin in Myles’s direction.
“No problem. Besides, I like how your girlfriend gets in your head.” He grinned and winked, immediately lightening the mood around the table. Maria, however, pivoted her full attention on him.
“She’s not in my head,” Ryan muttered. “Or my girlfriend.”
“Don’t tease your poor brother,” Karen scolded Myles, and he smiled at her, his face softening. The man had nothing but respect and affection for his librarian girlfriend. She pushed her glasses farther up her nose as Myles leaned in, and when he placed a kiss against her temple, she beamed and shut her eyes.
If Ryan wasn’t so happy for Myles, he’d be disgusted or jealous.
“Yeah, she’s good,” he said, rubbing his nose.
“Probably because she pays attention to the players rather than who she can flirt with,” Myles teased. Jackie laughed good-naturedly.
“That probably helps,” Maria said, still watching Ryan.
“Probably.” Jackie giggled. “Not nearly as much fun though, right, Myles?”
His brother offered a raised palm so Jackie could high-five it. Kurt, wanting one, too, stood on his chair and leaned across the table, teetering until Brant caught him and helped him reach Myles, then Jackie, before placing him back in his seat.
Ryan shook his head. Myles never seemed to take Jackie’s quest for a Wylder like the serious threat it was and instead seemed to think it was amusing.
“So? Are you going to ask Carly out?” Karen asked Ryan. Her cheeks flushed immediately and she blurted, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go all Sweetheart Creek on you, but it seems like the two of you are well suited for each other.”
“Yeah, they’re on the same wavelength,” Myles agreed. He was leaning back in his chair, grinning at Ryan.
“This again?” Ryan complained.
“What did you call her on the field today?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m pretty sure it started with a G,” Myles teased, eyebrows waggling. “You can deny it, but I heard.”
Girlfriend? Yeah, right. He started to laugh, then froze, bits of a conversation coming back to him. He had referred to Carly as his girlfriend, hadn’t he?
“She seems like a good match for you,” Levi said.
“Are you just saying that to get a gauge on my thoughts, or do you mean it?” Ryan asked, narrowing his eyes. He still felt the sting of how he’d believed his family supported his relationship with Priscilla, not noticing their hidden reservations.
If he’d known how they felt, he likely wouldn’t have eloped with her. Back then he’d respected and listened to their opinions almost as much as he had as a kid, even though he’d often acted as if he didn’t want their input.