by Sara Evans
Tonight, pasta for the Warriors’ head coach. Anything Italian fit his favoritefood bill. Steam rose from the boiling water as Jade lifted the lid and dumped in a handful of whole wheat spaghetti. Snapping open the oven, she slid in the buttered bread to warm. Max loved Italian—she loved bread.
“Asa, Daddy’s home.” He jumped up from playing with his cars in the dining room and thundered into the living room, flopping belly-first on the ottoman. Jade shook her head. For that boy, it was critical to run fast and loud.
Jade tugged her phone from her pocket and aimed the camera at Asa’s silhouette against the pink and purple twilight window.
“Asa.” Max swept his son into his arms. “Were you watching me?” A tall someone trailed behind Max. Jade recognized Tucker Walberg. “Look who I found.” Max hooked his arm around the teen. “The Warriors’ future star kicker.”
“Well, future star kicker, I hope you like spaghetti.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He stood kind of hunched together just inside the living room, a white Walmart shopping bag hanging from his fist. He appeared to be both terrified and uncomfortable.
“Make yourself at home. You can shower right in there.” Max pointed to the hallway, then motioned for Jade to follow him to the bedroom.
“You know about his mom—Mariah?” Max kicked off his sneakers and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it into the laundry basket.
“Yeah, I’ve heard things.”
“I’m driving home from practice, going over the day.” He made a face. “It was a doozy. The boys got in a fistfight.”
“Max, no. What happened?” Jade perched on the edge of their new bed.
“Just a bunch of young bucks duking it out.” He grinned. “Old Hines and I are weeding through the pile, trying to break things up when Haley comes out with this big booming voice. You’ve never seen teen boys move so fast. ‘Run until I tell you to stop. Go. Now.’ ” Max imitated her, stamping his foot. “They must have gone three miles before she blew the whistle. Ran the fight right out of them. The boys went dragging home.”
“Go, Haley.”
“But as I start home, I see this kid walking down the road.”
“Tucker.” Jade said.
“You got it. I thought, why is he walking home? He’s got to be beat. Didn’t any of the boys give him a ride? I pulled over.” Max joined Jade on the bed. “You should see where he lives.”
“I heard from Dr. Gelman. A pretty bad part of town.”
“A trailer park from the ’70s. When I dropped him off, it was obvious no one was home. He pretended it was all good, but I could hear his stomach rumbling.”
“Oh, Max.”
“So as I’m leaving, I check on him through the rearview. Know what he was doing? Sitting on those metal front steps, you know the kind I’m talking about, pulling his books from his bag. He had to be starving and exhausted, and it hit me, he was locked out. So I backed up and told him I needed company for a Walmart run. I drove through McDonald’s on the way. He ate two quarter-pounders with cheese and fries. Ten bucks says he eats three big helpings of spaghetti.”
“Sucker bet. I’m not taking it.” Jade caressed Max’s cheek. “You’re a good man, Maxwell Benson.”
“Not really. Just trying to do a few things right. When I was his age, I ate a whole large pepperoni pizza for snack after practice. And two or three helpings of whatever Mom made for dinner.”
“Speaking of dinner.” Jade rolled off the bed. “Max, do you really think it’s that bad for Tuck?”
“Yeah, I do. I bought him some toiletries and clothes at Walmart. You should’ve seen his face. He kept telling me he couldn’t take the stuff, but he seemed so amazed, like no one had ever shopped for him before. I told him he was welcome here anytime. Is that okay?”
“You don’t even have to ask.”
“Good, because if his mom doesn’t call him back, he’s spending the night.”
Jade finished prepping dinner while Max showered. When Tucker emerged from the guest bathroom, his face scrubbed, his wet hair combed in place, he had the Walmart bag in one hand and a wad of clothes in the other.
Jade reached for them. “I got a load of laundry to do. Mind if I throw these in?”
“No, ma’am.” His sweet voice matched his expression. “I appreciate you letting me crash here. My mom must be working.”
“You don’t have a key to your house?”
“No, ma’am. There’s only one and the lock is so old we can’t find anyone to make us a new key. Not that we can afford one anyway.”
“I see.” Jade turned for the laundry room. “You’re welcome here anytime, Tucker.”
About dinner, Max was right. Kind of. Tucker ate three helpings of spaghetti, plus one. Four helpings. That’d feed Jade for a week.
Mariah never called, so Tucker left word with his granny that he was sleeping at Coach’s house.
Jade watched him as he played with Asa until she put him in bed, then Tucker sat at the dining room table doing his homework, looking up from time to time to tell Jade how much he liked the house. She made up his bed on the couch, and at ten, he closed his books and said good night.
Wandering into Max’s office—the third bedroom—Jade slipped her arms around his shoulders. He watched a DVD of yesterday’s practice, frowning.
“He can move in as far as I’m concerned.”
Max hit Pause and glanced up at her. “Tucker?”
“Who else? Of course, Tucker. He’s so sweet, Max.”
“He’s a good kid. Can’t kick a football worth a darn, but I’d love to have more boys with his heart and eagerness.” He kept one eye on the video while he reached around and brought Jade to his lap.
She curled against him and rested her cheek in the strong curve of his neck.
“He reminds me of me. How I felt all those lonely days when Mama took off, leaving Granny to watch us.”
“Ah, come on, we can’t get that play right.” Max spoke to the screen, resting his hand on her hip and backing up the video again.
Jade loved the feel of his chest beneath her hand and how his soapy shower still lingered on his skin. His love, constant but flawed, lifted her out of fear, shining a light in the dark corners of her heart.
His love brought her here, to Texas, to a level place. Brought her Tucker. The moment she saw the boy standing behind Max, just inside the door, love had pinged between her ribs. It only took a second and four plates of spaghetti for her to fall in love, again, with another son from a different mother.
Until this moment, the whole head-coaching gig felt surreal—as if Max meandered through an Indiana Jones dream. The hours he’d spent with Hines and Haley designing plays, developing strategy, and watching film consumed him enough that he didn’t have to think about this moment—the one where he took his place on the sidelines and realized he’d bet his, Asa’s, and Jade’s futures on a whim and a prayer.
Nerves twisted his gut so tight he couldn’t draw a deep breath. Everything called his confidence into account. Opening game against the formidable Canyon Eagles . . . and Carter Davis. But the energy in the air? It was intoxicating.
The marching band boosted the excitement with their drumbeats and the braided sound of woodwinds and brass. Expectant Warrior fans flowed through the stadium like a red and gold river.
Max cinched his hand into a fist. Then released it, stretching his fingers. He paced, watching Hines and Haley warm up the team. Finally, finally, the team had started to jell. The offense clicked. The defense understood their strategy.
The Warriors were as ready for this opening game as they’d ever be this season. Max prayed. Max hoped. He brushed the perspiration from his brow. It was a hot Texas Friday night.
This wasn’t goofing around with a few boys at the Outpost. This was real.
Texas high school football. Game on.
He searched the stands for Jade and Asa. When the dark sheen of her hair glinted in the bright field lights, his heart rattl
ed his ribs. He’d not be standing here without her. It’d take the rest of his life to prove his gratitude. Jade smiled and waved, pointing Max out to Asa. Max raised his hand to hers.
Dr. Julie Gelman squeezed in on Jade’s right. She also caught Max looking and waved.
“Max! Oh Max!” Brenda Karlin stood on the other side of the fence with her sidekick, Bit Wyatt. They were decked from head to toe in Warrior wear.
Max acknowledged them with a wave, but Brenda insisted with a fanatical arm gesture that he meet her at the fence. He jogged over. If other fans saw this, he’d never get back to the sidelines. “Yeah, Brenda, I’m kind of busy.”
She smacked her hand on his shoulder, closed her eyes, and tilted her head toward the sky. “Lord God in heaven, I know you love Max, I know you love Texas, and I know you love football because we love football. Give Max grace, wisdom and oh, dear Lord, if it’s not too much, a win. This year.” Brenda’s sincere prayer warmed the chill off Max’s nerves. “Now, go get ’em, Coach.”
Brenda shoved him back and walked off, calling out to another Warrior fan.
Bit passed Max, smiling, and whispered, “Amen.”
Back on the sideline, Max checked the scoreboard. Five minutes to kickoff.
Hines and Haley had their starters huddled up for last-minute instructions.
Then Max called the whole team together.
“This is our game. Our team. Our season. It’s not your granddaddy’s or daddy’s, or your brother’s or cousin’s. We are the Warriors. Wins and losses of the past mean nothing. Warrior tradition starts over tonight. I’m proud of you boys. You worked hard all week. The coaches and I couldn’t have asked for more.” Max thrust his fist in the air with confidence. “Warriors on three.” The boys raised their fists and leaned toward Max. “One, two, three . . .”
“Warriors!”
The huddle broke and Haley gathered her defense. They were on the field first.
When Brad Schmidt walked past, Max collared the boy by his shoulder pads. “Brad, who’s your quarterback?”
“Noah Warren.”
“What’s your job?” A decent-size kid with strength and quickness, Brad lacked the killer instinct.
“Protect him.”
“Right. You block and tackle like Coach Hines told you. Got it?”
Brad nodded. “Yes, Coach.”
“All right, good job.” Max released him and found Tucker, who was practicing for the kickoff. His weak, nervous kicks mocked Max’s confidence. Hours of practice and drills boiled down to this—opening their first game with their weakest player.
“Tuck, remember what you’ve practiced. Plant your foot and follow through. Right?”
“Coach, I can’t—”
“If you say you can’t, then you won’t. Be on the team, Tucker. You can. Focus on your job, not on your fear.”
He swallowed a shallow breath, nodding.
“Go do your job.” Max smacked Tucker on the back and watched him run onto the field, the reverberation of his tone vibrating in his chest. Gruff and terse. Don’t take your nerves out on the boys. But some of them, Tucker, needed to man up a bit, didn’t they? Max paced past Hines. “Think we have a snowball’s chance of winning?”
“I’m praying for a snowball’s chance of getting out of here alive.”
Max stopped. “That’s all the confidence you have?”
“I do have a lot of faith.”
Max broke, grinning. “That’ll do, Hines.”
The ref ’s whistle blew and the Warrior kickoff squad lined up on the field, a jittery, bouncing Tucker waiting to kick the ball. Max hunched forward, hands on his thighs. Come on, Tucker. He struck his kicking pose, then stepped one, two, three, drawing back his leg . . .
Tuck’s foot thumped the ball and it took a low, low arc down the field. Ten yards. Tucker barely booted it ten yards. Max dropped his chin to his chest.
The Eagles landed on the ball at their own forty-yard line.
Haley shoved her defenders onto the field, shouting last-minute encouragement, her red ponytail flipping around her shoulders.
“Let’s go. Bring the D, Warriors.” Max walked the sidelines. The boys kneeled, focused on the game, just like Hines taught them. Max appreciated the man who brought so much texture and discipline to the team. Things he never would have thought to do.
Max bent down to Tucker’s ear. “What happened?”
“I don’t know, Coach. I thought I—”
Max turned his head to face him. “You know how to do this. You’ve practiced for hours. This is your time to step up, Tucker. Focus.”
“I don’t think I can do it.”
“Then you won’t.” Max exhaled as he stood. “And you’ll let yourself and the team down. So you just decided what kind of Warrior football player you want to be.”
The Eagles scored easily on their first possession. Max and Hines’s Warrior offense went to work. When the Eagles punted, Calvin Blue caught the ball on the twenty and ran, juking and jiving for a twenty-five-yard return. The stadium went wild, everyone on their feet.
When he ran to the sidelines to huddle with Max for the offense call, Max peered at him through his helmet. “Tone it down, hotshot. But good job.”
Noah led the O to the field and started the series on the Eagles forty-five yard line.
“Now just run the plays,” Max called, pacing. “Focus. Keep your heads in the game. This is our time.” Did he sound calm and in command? Because his knees bobbled and threatened to drop him to the field in a quivering puddle.
The Warriors and Eagles duked it out in a defensive battle, holding the score at seven zip, until late in the second quarter when Noah found Calvin for a touchdown.
The team exploded off the sideline and onto the field. The Warrior fans rocked the house as the pep band lit the night with a victory rhythm.
Max glanced at Tucker. Eyes ahead, the kid stood frozen, helmet in his hands, instead of prepping for the PAT. “Hines,” Max said, “let’s go for two.”
“You’re the coach.” Hines called in the play.
Noah found Calvin again in the far corner of the end zone, and when the buzzer sounded for halftime, the Warriors went into the locker room ahead of the Eagles by one point.
They were on fire, lighting up the locker room with exuberance, slapping each other high- and low-fives. When Max faced them, the boys talked at once.
“Coach, we can win this. We can.”
“Calvin is faster than their whole team put together.”
“All right, all right. Good job. See, I told you. We can win. We’re not losers. This is what team is about. See the power you have when you play as one? Now, we need to make some adjustments . . .”
Max let the boys talk, one at a time, to share what was happening on the field. Then he made adjustments and challenged the boys to stay with their assignments, not to get intimidated. He pointed out a few tactics of the Eagles, then let Hines and Haley have the floor.
“I tell you what,” Hines said, stepping forward. “What I saw on that field the first half was every bit as good as the championship teams I coached. I’m proud of you boys.”
During the half, the Eagles also made adjustments and in the third quarter, wore the Warriors out with their quick defense and no huddle offense. Yet as the fourth quarter wound down to the final two minutes, the Eagles only led the Warriors by two: 16–14.
The Warriors had the ball on their own fifty, and the boys in red and gold were ablaze with confidence. First down. Noah dropped the ball and barely recovered his own fumble.
Second down. Calvin broke a tackle and barreled into the Eagles’ secondary, running for thirty yards before the Eagles safety popped him out of bounds.
Third down. Big play for the red zone. Noah faked to Billings, then swept left to find Calvin cutting across to a wide-open center field. The ball sailed toward him in a perfect spiral.
The fans roared. Come on, come on . . . Max’s fingers dug into his palms.
Calvin ate up the yards with his quick, long stride. The NFL should execute this good.
The Eagles’ cornerback shot toward Calvin like a blue rocket and just as he did a Superman into the end zone, stretching for the catch, the Eagles’ defender batted the ball away. No, no, no!
The boys slammed into each other and crashed onto the ground. Max thundered onto the field. “Ref, where’s my flag? Where’s my flag? Interference.”
“Max, Max.” Hines grabbed his shirt and dragged back. “The boys are watching. Come on now—that was a clean play. No interference.”
“That kid was all over Calvin. Where’s my flag, ref?” He hated missed calls.
“The boys deserved that one, Hines. That was six. A beautiful play.” Max jutted toward the refs. “Cheaters.”
“You want to run a mile, Coach? Keep it up.” Hines shoved him toward the sidelines and called a time-out. “What do you want to do? Try for six one last time or call in the kicking team? It’s fourth down . . . our last chance to score.”
He advised Max with his tone. “A field goal puts us ahead by one. Haley’s D’s been doing its job all night.” Hines regarded Max with expectation.
“Coach, did you see me?” Calvin jumped in front of Max, mimicking his jump for the ball. “It was right here.” He made a T with his left palm on top of his right fingers. “Can we run that again? I’ll get it next time.”
“Coach.” Noah joined the confab. “I hesitated. Calvin would’ve had it otherwise.” Ah, the nectar of teamwork. “He had that corner beat. I know dead to rights he can outrun Cooper Fielding. I’ve seen them at track meets.”
The stadium rumbled. The drums resounded. Shouts rained down from the fans:
“Go for it. Give it to Blue.”
“You stink, Benson.”
“Let’s go, Warriors.”
“Don’t put the kicker in, he’ll miss.”
Max’s blood pumped. He was fifty seconds and twenty yards from winning his first ever opening game and breaking the Warriors worst losing streak in their history. He glanced down the sidelines. Tucker hid at the end of the row, staring out over the field, knees locked, gripping his helmet by the face mask.