Page 26 of Ruff and Tumble

“They were very enthusiastic. I didn’t know how to say no.”

“Also, my mom managed to find the scrapbook of all my high school football injuries, and she left a standing invitation for you to come over and see it whenever you want.”

That one gave Hailey pause. “Wait… That’s a real thing? She wasn’t just making it up?”

Cole onlywishedhis mom had made that up. Thirty-four pages of stitches, scrapes, and black eyes, all of them carefully cataloged and colorfully highlighted. She put it out every Christmas to remind them all of how far he’d come—of the years of pain he’d had to go through to get where he was today.

“Oh, it’s real,” he said. “She’s very proud of her project.”

“People who scrapbook generally are.”

“No, you misunderstand. The book isn’t her project.Iam.”

It was the first time he’d ever said the words out loud, and he was surprisingly nervous to see how they’d be received. A lot of the men on his team had families who played a big role in helping them succeed. Fathers who spent every afternoon throwing balls in the backyard, mothers who worked double shifts to pay for equipment, sisters and brothers asked to put their own dreams aside so weekends could be dedicated to travel teams…his story wasn’t the only one.

That was what made this all so difficult. Cole wasn’t unique. He hadn’t sacrificed anything extraordinary. His pain wasn’t greater than that of anyone else.

So why did he feel so damnably alone in it?

Hailey was watching him with a slight tilt to her head, her eyes scanning his face as though reading the pages of a book. In this, as in most things, he could see what she was thinking. She was deciding whether or not to believe him, whether he was worthy of her pity or her scorn.

He’d never know which one she’d been leaning toward. As if sensing that Cole was feeling much less stable on his feet than he appeared, the gray puppy came bounding up and shoved his head under Cole’s hand.

“Hello there,” he said, giving the animal’s head an obliging scratch. Like Hailey, the puppy was covered in swipes of mud, his paws caked in it. The kennel yard attached to the shelter was obviously well used, that hard-packed earth showing signs of regular canine wear. “Aren’t you a lucky dog?”

“Not really.” Hailey squatted down to the puppy’s level and grazed his cheek with a kiss. “This is Philip. He’s a pit bull mix, five months old. He was left tied to a tree out in front of the shelter right after Christmas.”

“Oh.” Cole wasn’t sure how to respond to this. That anyone would tie a cute little puppy like this to a tree and drive away was bad, obviously, but Hailey was kissing the dog’s face with unselfconscious abandon. A life like that couldn’t be too bad. She’d shown no signs of wanting to comforthimwith kisses.

“He’s not taking well to life in the shelter,” she said as she rose to her feet. “He picks at his food, cries all night long, and starts shaking anytime they shut the gate to his pen.”

“Oh,” Cole said again, this time with more sympathy. He looked at the puppy again, this time noting how visible the ribs were under the thin coating of fur. The animal did look as though he could use a good meal. Or ten. “Are we going to make him football famous so he can find a new home?”

“That’s the plan, yes. He’s one of the fifty puppies in the area I’ve selected for the show.”

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

Her answer was to clip a leash to the dog’s collar and hand it to Cole. “Until the show airs and someone steps up to adopt him, Philip is going to live with you.”

“Uh…” He glanced at the leash in his hand and then down at the puppy. As if sensing that something exciting was happening, Philip planted his hind end in the dirt and lolled an oversized tongue out the side of his mouth. “Is this retribution for me promising Mia a puppy? Did Reggie put you up to it?”

“No. You did.”

He transferred his gaze to Hailey. She squirmed under the directness of his stare, but she held herself firm, unable to hide the sudden spark of silver in her eyes.

“Consider it a payment of sorts,” she said. “If you’re going to use me to try and break the Kickoff Cup Curse, then giving Philip somewhere comfortable to live for the next month is the least you can do.”

If Cole had been a decent man, his first reaction upon hearing these words would have been embarrassment. It was wrong to leverage Hailey’s puppy luck for personal gain, not to mention roping her into this project without telling her what he wanted out of it. He owed her the benefit of truth and full disclosure. He owed her at least a little shame.

Instead, he laughed. “They told you, huh? I was afraid something like that might happen.”

“You aren’t even going to try and deny it?”

Not a chance. Not when she was drawing closer to him, her lower lip pulled between her teeth.

“So this whole thing,” she said. “The puppies, the show,me… It’s about the curse? About you trying to break it? That’s the ulterior motive?”

Cole nodded, even though she was only partially right. He wasn’t about to get into a detailed medical history—pull out the charts and projections, discuss his complicated relationship with the sport, ask her opinion about his viability as a human being without football to prop him up. Not because he didn’t want to hear her thoughts but because she already acted like he was on the bottom rung of a ladder that descended far, far below the earth’s surface.