Page 67 of Worth the Try
“Go,” she insists, that fake smile still plastered on her face.
I don’t want to. I want to pull her into my arms and bury my nose in her neck. Tell her everything. But now’s not the time. “Tonight,” I promise her.
When the smile doesn’t leave, I sigh and nod, picking up my kit and snagging the keys off the entryway table. “Jennifer.” My voice is clipped as I pull the front door shut, making certain to lock it.
Practice is fucking brutal. Coach is running us like the preseason opener is next week instead of in January.
“Miles!” he barks, waving me over to the sidelines. The man doesn’t so much as break a sweat out here, looking cool as a cucumber in the late August heat. I swear he’s not human.
I jog over to him, increasing my pace when his usual scowl deepens even further.
“What is that shit?”
“What is what shit?”
He gestures with his notebook. “You’re practically skipping out there. You get paid torun, Miles. To grab the ball and run. Or kick and run. Or pass and run. Or tackle and thenrun.Whatever the fuck is going on, solve it.”
I blanch, not used to being on the receiving end of this kind of dressing-down. “Coach, I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want your apologies,” he retorts. “I want you working. Being an example. You seem to have forgotten that you’re the captain. I’d like to remind you that we’re out here, in the middle of fucking August, in Georgia, because of you.” He jabs his finger in my chest for emphasis. “Get your shit together and do your job.”
I jerk my chin down. “Understood.”
I join the rest of the team where they’re taking a water break, shaking my head at Lennox as he gives me a questioning look. He knows how intense Coach is, so he simply nods in understanding and holds a cup of water up for me.
“Time to decide which of the new kids we’re keeping?” he asks as I take the water and down it.
“Probably, but that’s not what he wanted,” I answer. I need to remember to start delegating. We named captains for the forwards and backs for this exact purpose, so I call over to our co-captains. Woods, our hooker co-captain for the forwards, and Carter, our wing and co-captain for the backs.
Woods hustles over, and Carter, the cocky fucker, practically sashays to where we stand. “Look at that, Woods,” Carter says with a nudge to the other captain. “Ol’ Cap here finally decided to remember we existed.”
I roll my eyes. “Maybe I’ve been waiting for the two of you to come up with some ideas. You know—actuallyleadinstead of waiting to be told?”
Woods appears to consider it, but Carter sucks his teeth, knowing full well that I’m bullshitting. “Nah,” he says. “You forgot.”
“I’ve been studying game tape from this past season,” Woods offers. “I’ve got some specific plays in mind that we need todo better. Hone our ball-passing skills and see which of the potential new players can keep up.”
I gesture at Woods as I look at Carter. “See? No mouthing off. Just ready to work. Take a page from Woods.”
“I just need the forwards to do their job so that I and the rest of the backs can score the tries,” he says with a shrug. “It’s that simple.”
Woods turns a raised brow at me. “Exactlywhydid you pick him as captain again?”
Lennox laughs. “Because he’s our second-best scorer next to Ansel here. He’s a peacock and an idiot, but he’s talented as hell.”
“Aw, you got a crush on me?” Carter coos to Lennox, who scowls at him.
“I regret coming back early,” Lennox says dryly.
“Miles!” Coach barks. When I turn, he makes alet’s get on with itgesture.
Sighing, I get us all back out on the pitch.
Mom calls on my way home. I punch the speaker to take it while I drive and answer with, “Everything okay?”
“Can’t I call my only child to see how he’s doing without causing alarm?” she responds.
“No,” I state flatly.
