Homecoming (A Boys of Fall Novel) (10 page)

“It was a lot more fun when I was seventeen, to be honest. And less stressful.”

Because he was talking quietly, he was standing close enough to her so part of his body was tucked behind hers and it was tempting to lean back against him. “I’ve had to deal with a few minor issues, but nothing involving the players. Coach has always been very strict with them and one year he benched half the starting offensive line because they filled soda bottles with alcohol before the bonfire.”

“I’ve been volunteered to drive three kids home because their parents didn’t want to stay the whole time.” He sighed. “Oh well. It’s one night, I guess. I know Chase is still here because Kelly is, but I haven’t seen Alex and Gretchen in a while.”

“They already left. Gretchen wasn’t feeling so hot.”

When he put his hand on the small of her back, Jen sighed. Staring into the flames, she accepted the inevitable. Very soon, she and Sam Leavitt were going to fall into bed together if for no other reason than they couldn’t
not
do it anymore.

She didn’t know what it meant or where—if anywhere—it would lead except her in his rearview mirror as he left town, but it was time for her to just go with the right now.

T
he atmosphere on Saturday afternoon was electric and Sam paced the sidelines, absorbing the energy of the team and the crowd. It was almost as potent a feeling as when he ran out onto the field himself a decade and a half ago.

Dan and Joel were on the sidelines with him, along with Deck. Decker wasn’t really a coach, of course, but they didn’t want the other schools to know just how thin their coaching staff was stretched. Especially this one, being a longtime rival. Sam had beat the other team for homecoming back in the day and, while he couldn’t be sure, he thought one of their assistant coaches had been across the line of scrimmage from him.

Coach was in the stands with Mrs. McDonnell, who’d already made it quite clear she’d have him removed from school property if he got too worked up. Jen, Alex and
Gretchen were sitting with them. Chase was supposed to be sitting with them, too, but he kept wandering down the stands to talk to Kelly, who was in uniform and technically on duty.

The noise and trying to keep the team from getting too nerved up kept Sam from being able to dwell too much on the amount of pressure he was feeling, which was probably a good thing. And he felt optimistic about their chances. They’d had excellent practices, the weather was nice and the kids were in good spirits. He’d been worried the pressure building over the week would bring the tension from last Friday back, but it hadn’t.

Because it was homecoming, they’d done a big entrance, with each player’s name booming through the big speakers. He’d even had to run onto the field himself, waving to a screaming crowd, which had amused him while at the same time tying his stomach in knots. Now he stood, watching his team go through their pregame routines. Some of the kids liked to chat and fiddle with their equipment, while others were quiet and focused.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a text message from Gretchen. It was all in emojis—a football, a thumbs-up and some kind of party horn blowing confetti—and he laughed. After sending back a happy face, he looked up at the stands in time to see Gretchen glance down at her phone. After a second, she lifted her head and gave him a wave.

Sam couldn’t stop himself from shifting his gaze to her right, where Jen sat. Their eyes met and the smile she gave him settled his nerves in a way none of the pep talks he’d given himself in the mirror that morning had. Then her lips moved.
Good luck.

He waved to her, and then realized everybody would look to see who he was waving at. Thank goodness Coach and Mrs. McDonnell were sitting in front of her, Gretchen and Alex, so most people would assume he was waving to them. When Coach gave him a thumbs-up, he grinned. Even Coach, apparently.

It didn’t take long for the mood to shift once the game started, though. Their opponents were not only very good, but their guys were bigger, on average. And older, from what Sam had been told, with a lot of seniors on the team.

The Eagles defense played well, keeping it a two-touchdown game, but with the game ticking down toward halftime, their offense had yet to put any points on the board. Sam paced the sideline, working the playbook and trying to keep the boys’ heads in the game.

He didn’t allow himself to look up into the stands for Coach McDonnell. He knew he wouldn’t see disappointment there because his boys were playing good, clean football, but there might be some frustration and Sam was struggling enough with his confidence without piling the weight of Coach’s emotions onto himself. And he didn’t want to wonder if the older man disagreeing with any of his plays was putting stress on Coach’s heart.

Dammit. He should have argued harder against Coach being there at all.

“Hey, Coach,” he heard PJ say and, because he’d been thinking about Coach McDonnell, it took Sam a few seconds to realize the kid was talking to him.

“What’s up, PJ?”

“I know Sloan likes the outside,” he said, referring to Parker Sloan, the Eagles wide receiver, “but the guy they
have defending him has a real hard time cutting to his left. I think if you have Sloan go out and then cut hard left across to the middle, he can get at least a yard of separation and probably more.”

“You think so?” He looked out at his offense, visualizing the play. If the wide receiver could pull off the move and Riley could get him the ball, he’d have a pretty clear shot at the end zone.

“I’m sure enough of it so I think you should burn a time-out.”

PJ was a good cornerback, but he’d bragged in the past about his ability to read the field being his real skill, and how that was why he was Coach McDonnell’s secret weapon. Sam signaled to the ref and waved for the guys to hurry off the field.

“Your show, son,” he said to PJ, who grinned before pulling the offensive line into a tight huddle. Sam had no doubt the kid would achieve his dreams of coaching football someday. He was a natural.

As he watched, the other guys started nodding, and then Shawn Riley grinned. “Save it for third down. They’ll expect me to hand it off to Cass and their secondary isn’t as responsive.”

The guys looked to Sam and he gave a sharp nod. His quarterback was no slouch in the observation department, either, and every time he saw them play, he became more certain they didn’t even need him.

With his stomach tied in knots, he glanced at the clock and then watched his offense take the field again. It was going to be tight, but they could get something on the scoreboard before the half, even if they had to settle for a field goal.

An incomplete pass stopped the clock. Then Sloan caught a short pass and was forced out of bounds short of the first down, stopping the clock again. Third down, with two yards to go, Sam thought. It couldn’t have been more perfect.

Hunter Cass took his spot on the line, eyeing the defensive players across from him as if looking for their weakest link. He was good at digging in and bullying his way through for short yardage, and everybody would expect him to get the ball.

As Sam watched, his body practically shaking with tension, Riley took the snap and fell back. Sloan exploded off the line, racing across the grass with a defender on his heels. Suddenly he cut to his left, toward the middle of the field. The defender followed, but he was slow turning to his weak side, just as PJ had said he would be, leaving Sloan open.

Riley’s pass was a bullet right into his hands, and then the wide receiver was gone, closing the distance to the end zone at a speed that made Sam remember the sensation of the field under his cleats. Being quarterback, he’d never gotten to sprint down the field like Sloan, but he’d had a few good runs back in the day.

When Sloan broke the plane, falling across the goal line in a tangle of defensive players, the crowd roared and Sam got his hand up in time to accept a triumphant high five from PJ.

“Touchdown, Eagles!” The guy running the PA system could barely be heard over the crowd, but the stands quieted as the boys took their positions for kicking the extra point.

Despite still being down by seven points, the team was in good spirits as they went into the locker room for halftime. Being a small school with limited space and funding, they used the girls’ locker for home games, letting their visitors
use theirs. They’d been doing it for so many years, nobody thought anything of it.

His phone vibrated and he pulled it out to see a text message from Coach.
You’re doing great.

You going to come give us all a pep talk?

After a few seconds, the response came through.
Nope. The boys look good out there and so do you.

Thanks, Coach.

No, thank YOU, Coach.

Emotion balled up in Sam’s throat and he ran his thumb over the words before slipping the phone back into his pocket. Here he was, a grown man, and a few words from Coach McDonnell still felt like a warm, strong hand on his shoulder, letting him know he was doing okay.

Dan, Joel and Decker talked with the boys while they dissected the first half and took care of any issues with their gear or equipment. Sam watched, keeping an eye on the time, until it was almost time for the second half. Then he gave them a short pep talk, letting them know they were doing a great job and they just needed to keep on executing their plays and any other encouraging words that popped into his head.

“You’re playing a good game,” he said, wrapping it up. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

The Eagles fans in the stands welcomed them back to the field with raucous cheering, and Sam settled in for the third
quarter. He knew his team and they had a tendency to start losing steam toward the end of the third before digging deep and playing hard in the fourth and final quarter. He needed to keep them from slacking off too much.

As the game went on, Sam forgot everything but the team and the playbook. He didn’t think of Coach or Jen or anybody else. All of his focus was on the field as the time on the clock seemed to race by and, despite playing hard, they were down by three when their opponents’ offense took the field for what would probably be the last time.

On second and two, their quarterback went long and Sam’s stomach sank as he watched the ball sail through the air. Their receiver had his head down, running hard, with Danny Bartolo right on his heels. And then the receiver’s body language changed as he prepared to turn into the catch, and Danny turned first. Arms up, he plucked the ball out of the air and brought down the interception.

And then he started running. The screaming of the crowd echoed through Sam’s head as he jogged down the sideline, watching the freshman cut around defenders and sucking in a breath every time an Eagle tackled a guy about to take the kid down.

When Danny Bartolo crossed the line into the end zone, Sam held up his arms like everybody else. He turned, looking down the field for any flags that might signal a penalty was going to take this moment away.

“Touchdown, Eagles,” the man with the microphone shouted over the crowd.

Sam watched the boys celebrating in the end zone for a few seconds before waving them over. They had to kick the extra point and the other team was going to get another
chance with the ball. They couldn’t win with a field goal and there shouldn’t be enough time for their opponents to get it down the field for a touchdown, but he needed his team to stay in the game until the final whistle blew.

One kickoff and two unsuccessful plays later, the score was final and Sam found himself in a crowd of celebrating teenagers. There was a lot of backslapping and high fives, and then Decker hugged him so hard he was afraid his ribs would break.

“You won the homecoming game,” Deck said, shaking his head.

“We did,” Sam reminded him. “But mostly they did. Thanks for being here with me, though. You might not be bossy enough to be a head coach, but you sure know how to give sideline pep talks.”

Then Coach was there and Sam wasn’t surprised when that handshake become a hug. “We did it, Coach.”

“You sure did, son.” Then Coach pulled back and grinned at him. “Well, you won homecoming, anyway. Still plenty of games left to play.”

Sam groaned and made a mental note to buy some antacids next time he was at the store because there was a good chance he was going to need them.

This team had the potential to win the championship and, if there was a God, Coach would be back on the sidelines before that game because Sam wasn’t sure his nerves could handle that kind of pressure.

—

J
en looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror, trying to decide if the anxiety making her cheeks flush and her stomach dance was coming from excitement and
anticipation, or if it was her subconscious mind’s way of telling her she was on the road to making a big mistake.

If she went to the dance, she was going to end up dancing with Sam. And if she danced with Sam, she was going home with him. Or he was going home with her. She wasn’t sure whose bed they’d end up in, but they were going to get naked together somewhere.

There was really no reason not to, she told herself. It wasn’t as if she had to keep worrying about whether or not they’d be compatible in the future because Sam was going back to Texas. He wasn’t offering her forever, and love and marriage weren’t on the table. What was the harm in having a little fun before he left?

It wasn’t easy having a casual fling in a town as small as Stewart Mills. Most of the single guys, she’d known her entire life and there wasn’t exactly an element of mystery there. And once you were seen out with a man, it was only a matter of time—a very
short
time—before every person you met on the street seemed to greet you by sneaking a peek at your left ring finger.

Jen hadn’t dressed up for the dance tonight. Unlike the Winter Carnival dance, homecoming wasn’t semiformal, though a lot of the girls would change into pretty dresses simply because there weren’t a lot of opportunities to dress up in Stewart Mills. Jen had chosen black leggings with a long tunic sweater that matched her eyes, along with low-heeled boots that hugged her calves.

It was dressy without looking like she was there for the party. She was chaperoning from the shadows. And the outfit was warm enough for the weather without being too warm for the gym. And it was pretty but practical. The fact that it
made her look taller and thinner had nothing to do with the choice, she thought before rolling her eyes at herself.

The low-key outfit didn’t mean she hadn’t spent a lot of time getting ready, though. After the game, she’d treated herself to a nice long soak in a bubble bath. And she’d shaved her legs, just in case, before putting on one of the few matching lace bra-and-panty sets she owned. Though she didn’t think it showed on the outside, she was definitely a woman planning to end her night naked with a man.

Her cell phone chimed and she walked to the bedside table, where it was charging. She’d taken so many pictures during the game, she’d worn the battery down and eventually given up. Since Alex Murphy was two seats over, taking professional-quality photos with his fancy camera, she’d decided to just beg copies from him.