Homecoming (A Boys of Fall Novel) (19 page)

They curled up on the couch with the remote control, throw blankets, junk food and a big chocolate Lab cutting off the circulation to her legs. Jen didn’t mind Cocoa, though. She rubbed the dog’s head and got adoring looks in return.

If she didn’t have a tendency to work long hours at the school, she would get a dog, she thought. Such simple relationships. Offer love and get pure, unconditional love in return. And it was too late, anyway. She’d already had her heart broken by conditional love.

Kelly had been wrong about one thing. She was never going to forget Sam.

S
am pulled his truck into the sprawling parking lot behind one of the wings of the massive regional high school that was going to become the center of his life.

In the week since Jen left his apartment, he hadn’t seen her. He knew she’d been at work, but out of respect for her, he hadn’t gone looking. And she’d managed to never be in the same hallway at the same time. He felt her absence like a gaping black hole in his life, so he’d decided the best thing to do was start focusing on his new life.

Now he had a meeting with Neil Page and a few potential rental places starred on the real estate app on his phone. There was no reason he couldn’t make the drive for the Eagles games as he’d promised the team, while putting some space between him and Jen so they could heal. Or at least not hurt so badly they had to avoid each other.

He walked around the school to the front door and got buzzed in. It was a few minutes before Neil showed up, grinning and with his hand extended. “Coach Leavitt. Good to see you!”

The surge of pride hearing himself called Coach without the title being borrowed from Coach McDonnell fueled him as he got a tour of the school. He’d known it was a big, well-funded institution, but Sam was still surprised when Neil brought them into a waiting area that had three doors leading off of it.

“The sports department,” Neil said, before opening the door that had a vinyl football decal clinging to the smoked pane of safety glass. “I’ll introduce you to Coach Gaffney.”

The man sitting behind the largest desk in the very spacious office looked up when the door opened. The man was even older than Coach, and was wearing a maroon polo shirt and a whistle. “Coach Leavitt, it’s good to meet you.”

Sam shook his hand, feeling the slight tremor in the other man’s otherwise firm grip. “Thanks for the invite.”

“You’ve done a hell of a job with McDonnell’s Eagles. They had a rough year and I’m impressed with what you did this season. I was thrilled to hear you’re willing to consider our offer.”

“It’s an honor being asked,” he said, and then bit the words off. He hadn’t formally accepted the position yet. When he’d reached out to Neil, he’d stopped short of it and instead suggested he get a tour of the school and the community.

And he’d told himself it was because he didn’t want to look too eager to accept. There wouldn’t be much to negotiate in his contract, if anything, but he didn’t want to show all his cards too soon.

But he knew he hadn’t said the words because he couldn’t bear the finality. As soon as he said them, he’d have to stand by his word and he’d be leaving Jen behind. It was stupid, he knew, since he was going to be looking at places to live while he was here, but he’d been afraid he’d choke on the words.

They talked a little about the football program. Sam knew their record, of course. He’d filled the endless hours without Jen by reading every relevant newspaper clipping and high school football report he could find online. But they talked philosophy and methodology for a while and Sam was pleased they all seemed to have the same priorities when it came to the boys being more important than the wins. Most of the other members of the coaching staff also taught classes, so he didn’t get to meet them, but Sam didn’t mind. Coach Gaffney and Neil seemed to be on the same page, so he assumed the others were, too.

When they’d talked as long as they could without it being awkward when Sam didn’t accept the position, he shook both their hands. “Thanks for the talk. I think I’ll go explore the town awhile, and I’ll reach out if I have any questions.”

“Thanks for making the drive down,” Neil said. “We’re really looking forward to hearing your decision.”

The opening was there, but he still couldn’t do it. “I’ll let you know by next week.”

“Excellent. We hope you’ll come on board.”

Sam drove around the downtown area until he found a place to park. Then he walked for what felt like hours, checking out the businesses and watching people. It was lonely, walking alone, and thinking about how much he wished Jen were with him, holding his hand and checking out their future, made his heart ache.

It was a significantly larger town than Stewart Mills, but the people seemed friendly enough. He’d probably get to know some of them in time. Find a favorite diner and a favorite market.

Maybe someday it would even feel like home.

—

A
strange skittering sound made Jen look up from her computer just in time to see Cocoa slide through the open door. They’d just waxed the floors, and a chocolate Lab at a full run wasn’t graceful when it came to braking to begin with. After barely managing to avoid sliding into the desk leg, Cocoa recovered and walked around to get a high five.

“Hey, Cocoa Bean. What brings you here today?” She ruffled the dog’s fur, looking into her big brown eyes and again wishing she had a dog of her own. Maybe her life wouldn’t feel so horribly empty now if she had a friend to cuddle with while she watched stupid comedies that didn’t make her laugh anymore.

It was another two minutes before Gretchen showed up. “I should have known I’d find her in here.”

“Please tell me we’re not doing another round of ugly pumpkin babies.”

Gretchen snorted. “No. Alex was just running in to talk to the yearbook advisor about some photos real quick but you know how that goes. After fifteen minutes, I decided to come in and use the bathroom, but Cocoa would rather socialize.”

“I’m always happy to see her. I wonder if I got one of those little dogs that fit in a purse if I could sneak it into work with me.”

“No. I don’t care if a dog’s the size of a teacup or a small
horse. They need fresh air and grass, not cement walls and desk chairs.”

“Spoken like a true farm girl.” She was right, of course, but Jen still gave a wistful sigh as Cocoa went to explore the garbage can. She wouldn’t rummage in it, but there was a banana peel in there that probably smelled intriguing.

“How are you doing?” Gretchen asked.

“I guess you heard he went down and had a meeting. And looked at places to live,” Jen said quietly. That had come from Chase by way of Kelly, so she was pretty sure Gretchen knew, too.

“Yeah, I heard.”

“I haven’t seen him since that night. It’s stupid because the longer we go without seeing each other, the more awkward it’s going to be when we do.”

Gretchen’s cell phone chimed and she frowned at the screen. “Of course, now that we abandoned ship, he’s done and wondering where we are.”

“I’ll walk out with you. It’ll do me good to get a few minutes of fresh air, even if the air’s ridiculously cold.”

Gretchen just laughed at her. She spent most of her life outdoors and didn’t mind the cold nearly as much as her friends did. “You do realize it’s not even winter yet.”

“How many years have we had this exact same conversation?”

“Every year.”

Cocoa was between them, her puppylike exuberance holding all of Jen’s attention, which was why she didn’t realize until they were halfway across the parking lot that Alex was leaning against the hood of his Jeep, and he was talking to Sam.

Her breath caught in her chest, and she stopped in her tracks. She’d missed him with every fiber of her being, and she drank in the sight of him now. He looked tired, she thought. Whatever he was discussing with Alex looked serious, and she realized how much she missed his laughter. The sound of his voice. His touch. She missed everything about him and she knew when he turned his head and saw her that it was going to hurt like hell.

But she’d gone too far to turn around and run. If she’d been paying attention, she could have said good-bye to Gretchen at the door and nobody would have been the wiser. Now she was committed.

Cocoa barked once, obviously asking Jen why she’d stopped walking for no reason, and both guys looked their way.

She saw the widening of Sam’s eyes when he spotted her, and he even started to smile before a flash of sorrow and maybe even regret wiped it away. Jen knew exactly what he’d felt. That initial
Oh, I missed you so much and I’m so happy to see you
followed by the inevitable
but you’re not mine anymore
.

Trying to brace herself the best she could, Jen started walking again—much to Cocoa’s relief—and plastered what felt like the worst fake smile ever on her face. “Hi, guys.”

“Hey, Jen,” Alex said. “I guess Cocoa found you, huh?”

“She does have a way of charming her way around the rules,” Jen said, holding her hand out for Cocoa to slap with her paw. “I think the principal would put in a doggy door just for her if we had the budget to hire a carpenter.”

It was painful to be so close to Sam and not touch him. They weren’t even talking, though the awkwardness was
masked by Alex and Gretchen telling a story about Cocoa trying to stop Alex from driving away from the bank drive-up window by plopping her butt on the steering wheel because they didn’t put a dog biscuit in the drawer with his deposit slip.

“I should go,” Sam said when there was a lull in the conversation, and just three little words were enough of his voice to cut through Jen.

“Yeah, us, too,” Gretchen said. “I want to get a head start on the chores because Gram’s having some friends over, so Alex and I are having a date night.”

The way Alex looked at Gretchen made Jen turn away. “Have fun, you two. I’ll see you later.”

Unfortunately the timing meant walking back into the school with Sam at her side. They didn’t make it ten feet from Alex’s Jeep before the silence grew so oppressive she had to break it. “How’s everything going?”

“Except for missing you so much I can hardly breathe, everything’s fine, I guess.”

It was so blunt, Jen actually winced. There was no dancing around it or pretending they were doing just fine and dandy. “I miss you, too. But . . . how’s your mother?”

He snorted, but must have decided to let the change of subject stand. “She’s doing really well. Better than I’d hoped, actually.”

“So she’s taking you leaving okay?”

“She’s glad it’s not Texas.” He shrugged. “We’re going to have dinner once a month, which will be nice.”

Which meant at least once a month Sam would be in Stewart Mills. Jen wondered how long she’d have to work at avoiding him before she could casually run into him
without feeling as though her heart was breaking all over again.

“It means a lot to the team that you’ll be around for games for the rest of the season,” she said, desperate for anything to talk about. They were almost to the door and then they could go back to their respective offices and hide some more.

“It means a lot to me, too. And I talked to Cody yesterday. He’s doing really well.”

She nodded. “I guess it was a really emotional meeting but Mimi told me they all came through it feeling stronger. They’re going to try to visit the prison a couple more times before the weather starts turning.”

“I’ll be keeping in touch with him. With all of them. They’re great kids.”

“They are.”

They paused at the door, waiting for it to buzz. “Jen, there’s no reason we can’t have dinner or something. I’m not leaving town yet and . . .”

“I can’t.” Her throat felt tight suddenly and if they’d just release the damn door, she could maybe get to her office before she cried again. She was so sick of tears. “What’s the point? It already hurts. I can’t get in even deeper and then go through it again.”

“You’re right. I just miss you.”

They heard the click and she yanked open the door. “I miss you, too, Sam. I have to go.”

She didn’t run, but walked quickly enough that her office door swung shut before the first tear ran down her cheek. For a brief second, she’d considered dinner with him, but he hadn’t even gotten the words out before she balked. If
they went to dinner, they’d end up in bed again. They’d watch television and read and talk and it would be so much worse this time. This time they’d know they were in love and when it came time for him to move, she wouldn’t be able to get through it.

A clean break, she thought. Or as clean as it could be in a town as small as Stewart Mills. It was the only way she could let him
go.

“H
oney, if you eat any more of that macaroni salad, you’re going to have a tummy ache.”

Jen knew Gretchen’s grandmother was right, but she couldn’t help it. “You know nobody else in the world can make macaroni salad like yours, Gram.”

She beamed. “That’s because I’m the only one who has the recipe. But don’t you worry. It’s written down in my will so when I’m gone, Gretchen will be able to make it. Or maybe Alex, to be honest. He’s a little better in the kitchen than my girl.”

“Thanks, Gram,” Gretchen said, though Jen noticed she didn’t bother denying it.

“Cocoa and I are going to go putter outside for a little bit. I want to organize my garden shed before it gets any colder.”

“Thanks again for the macaroni salad,” Jen said.

Gram kissed the top of her head as she went by. “When one of my girls calls me up and asks me to make it special, I know to make a big batch, too. There’s a dish in the fridge to take home with you.”

Jen felt her eyes well up. She couldn’t remember ever being gifted with macaroni salad leftovers before. She must have sounded even more pathetic than she thought. After tossing and turning and crying and then tossing and turning some more all night long, she’d curled up on the couch and tried to lose herself in mindless television shows. It hadn’t helped, so she’d reached out to her mom.

But her parents had been getting ready to go to an anniversary party for their best friends, and Jen hadn’t been able to bring herself to ruin it. Her mother would have stayed on the phone with her for as long as she cried or, worse yet, gotten in her car and driven back to Stewart Mills. So she’d lied and said she had a really bad cold to explain her hoarse voice and obvious congestion and told her to have fun.

Going to Mrs. McDonnell would have been too messy, considering the connection to Sam, so she’d called the Walker farm and thrown herself on Gram’s mercy. As usual, the woman didn’t disappoint.

Once she and Cocoa had gone outside, Gretchen looked at Jen and shook her head. “Is that what I looked like after Alex left?”

“Of course not. You’re you. You probably put on your stoic farmer face and did chores to work through your emotions.”

“Stoic farmer face?” Gretchen snorted. “Is that like Kelly’s cop face?”

“Yup.”

“And what’s yours?”

“Compassionate, concerned guidance counselor face, of course.” Jen tried to show her, but she was pretty sure her puffy eyes and red nose blew the effect.

Her friend chuckled, but then her amusement faded and she did a pretty good impression of the compassionate, concerned guidance counselor face herself. “What are you going to do, Jen?”

“Probably eat macaroni salad until the carb crash hits and maybe I can finally sleep.”

“Is he worth this?”

Jen pressed the heels of her hands to her sore, grainy-feeling eyes to stem the inevitable tears, but they didn’t come. Maybe she was literally all cried out. Finally. “He’s worth everything.”

“Is he?”

She knew where Gretchen was heading, and she shook her head. “You know as well as anybody how much I love what I do.”

“I know. And you make a difference, you really do. But I’m worried about you because you’re not really bouncing back and I’m afraid you’re sacrificing your own happiness for the kids’. You don’t owe them that.”

“It’s not an issue of owing them.” Jen set her fork down, having reached her limit of macaroni salad for the moment. “Why did you let me eat so much?”

“I’ve got a list of things that need doing before snow flies if you want to work some of it off.”

Jen laughed. “Therapy for me, free labor for you?”

“You know it.”

Pushing back from the table, Jen scraped the rest of her macaroni salad into the garbage and washed her bowl. “What would happen to the kids if I left Stewart Mills?”

“Is that a super-dramatic rhetorical question or do you actually want me to answer it?” When Jen gave her a look, Gretchen shrugged. “They’d hire a new guidance counselor and you’d probably be all up in the hiring process. And then you’d be all up in helping her. You’d be in touch with the kids. And you’d be volunteering to drive up and help her with the college fair and to help her do all the stuff you do now. And you’d be doing it all on top of taking care of your new crop of kids.”

“That sounds exhausting. And I’m pretty sure whoever they hired would get sick of me looking over her—or his—shoulder pretty quickly.”

“Maybe.” Gretchen looked skeptical. “But I think the administration really appreciates everything you do and you’d have some say in the hiring process. They wouldn’t hire somebody whose ego is more important than the kids.”

“There isn’t exactly a line of guidance counselors just waiting to take a job up here in the middle of nowhere.”

“Stop.”

Jen looked at her friend, her eyebrow arched. “Stop?”

“You’re going to go in circles and there are too many people in your head. Make it about you and Sam. Do you want to go with him or not?”

“I do, but I don’t see how I can.” When Gretchen rolled her eyes, Jen pointed an accusing finger at her. “Don’t you dare. You weren’t willing to leave this farm for Alex.”

“That’s different. There were Gram and Cocoa to consider. And this is my home.”

“It’s not that different. It wasn’t just about you and Alex any more than I can make this about just me and Sam. We care about people. We have responsibilities.”

“I know. I just . . . I’m afraid for you because I know, if Alex hadn’t come back, I still wouldn’t feel whole. And I don’t want you to give up being happy.”

Jen didn’t want to give up being happy, either, which spun her right back into the horrible ping-pong game her thoughts had been stuck playing since the night Sam asked her to move away with him.

“You tell your kids they have to fight to make their dreams come true, Jen. If there’s an obstacle, they have to find a way around it or over it. You teach them to be determined but also how to compromise. I’ve personally heard you tell a junior if she sat around waiting for her dream life to just appear in her lap, she was going to grow old without that dream ever coming true. Are you full of shit, Miss Cooper?”

“I’m taking my macaroni salad and going home now,” Jen snapped.

“Sure. Go sit on your couch with your leftovers and wait for your dream life to fall in your lap.”

“I’m calling Kelly next time.”

—

S
am looked around the apartment that had been his home for the last month and a half, making a mental catalog of his personal belongings. He was pretty sure he’d be able to make it in one trip.

It had been a hell of a day. He’d finally gotten around to officially quitting his job in Texas. And he’d arranged to have the things he’d left behind boxed up and sent to Coach
McDonnell’s address. His mom didn’t have the space and he didn’t have a new address yet. He’d narrowed his choices down to two apartments near the high school but, for the first time in his life, found himself being picky. Neither of them were exactly what he wanted, so he’d found a dozen stupid excuses not to sign a lease.

And he had a voice mail message on his phone from Neil, looking for a commitment. Sam hadn’t been busy when the phone rang. He’d seen the name on the caller ID and simply wasn’t in the mood to answer it. Now he wasn’t in the mood to call him back.

Running into Jen the day before had rocked his world. Turning and seeing her had been a split second of joy followed by what felt like a wrecking ball to his chest. He still hadn’t regained his equilibrium and he’d spent more time brooding over her than he had taking care of the things on his to-do list.

After muttering a fairly long string of curses under his breath, he pulled out his cell phone and hit the number for Coach’s house. His wife answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Sam.”

“Sam! How are you doing?”

“Not too bad,” he lied. “I’m going a little stir-crazy, though, and was thinking about stopping by for a visit with Coach if he’s not doing anything.”

“Right now he’s just waking up from his customary post-lunch nap. It’s a nice day. You two can do some porch-sitting and then you’ll stay for dinner.”

He hadn’t been angling for a supper invitation, especially given the changes to the menu at Chez McDonnell since Coach’s heart attack. “I’m not sure about the meal yet, but I’ll come get Coach out of your hair for a few minutes.”

“I’ll let him know you’re coming.”

He didn’t even know what he was going to say, he thought as he walked down the back stairs to his truck. Or what Coach might say. But if there was one man who could help him sort through the chaos in his mind, it was the old man.

Coach met him on the porch with two mugs of coffee that were steaming like crazy in the cold air. “It’s not like you to randomly stop by, but it’s good to see you.”

“I was bored and sick of staring at my apartment walls,” he said, even though it was a lie. He’d come for advice and being stir-crazy was just the excuse he’d given himself. “Kind of cold out here.”

“Yeah, it is, but you and I always did our best talking out here on the porch. Have a seat.”

Coach set the mugs on the table between the two rockers as Sam sat. “I thought coffee was on the forbidden list.”

“There’s a thing called half-caf that’s not decaf, but not fully caffeinated, either. Helen and I compromised and I can have two cups of it before two in the afternoon, and then I have to switch to decaf.” He took a sip of his and gave a contented sigh. “You can only go without something out of sheer stubbornness before you realize compromise is a lot better than living the rest of your life without it.”

Sam looked out over the street, still quiet at this time of day, especially this late in the fall. “Somehow I get the feeling you’re not talking about the coffee anymore.”

Coach shrugged. “If something I said resonates with you, I guess you need to ask yourself why.”

Sam drank some of the coffee to ward off the chill setting in and then gave an angry shake of his head. “Can we not do this?”

“Hey, I was napping. You’re the one who came looking for company.”

“I mean, can we not do this thing where you say vague things meant to prod me into having an epiphany? I’m a grown man now. If you want to say something, Coach, just say it plain.”

“Okay. You’re being an idiot and it’s pissing me off.”

Sam sat back in the rocker. “Maybe not
that
plain.”

“You’re a man with a good work ethic. You’ve got the kind of loyalty that dragged you halfway across the country
twice
to help me out. You’re working hard to be a family with Sheila again and that kind of forgiveness doesn’t come easy. You took care of my boys and, yes, I know what a help you’ve been to Cody, especially. People respect you and admire you, Sam.”

“Why do I feel like there’s a
but
coming.”

“Because I haven’t gotten to the part where you’re an idiot yet. Don’t jump the gun.”

“Let me save you the trouble, Coach. This job means a lot to me and I’m taking it.”

“And there’s the part where you’re an idiot.”

Sam sighed and took another sip of his coffee so he wouldn’t say anything rash or disrespectful. He was pretty sure Coach was wrong this time, but he would hear him out. He owed him that much at least.

“I don’t know why you’re shooting yourself in the foot, son,” Coach continued. “It’s like you look in the mirror and see the boy you used to be looking out at you. But that’s not who we see.”

“And that’s not who Neil Page saw, either.”

“Is that what you’re looking for? Validation from
somebody who doesn’t know a damn thing about you other than watching you on the sidelines and hearing some stories about how you came back to help me out?”

“I think your meds are addling your brain again.” He didn’t bother trying to inject any affectionate amusement into his tone. “I’ve discovered I really like coaching. And I’m good at it. Why is it so hard to believe I’d accept a coaching job just because I want to?”

“Because of what you’re leaving behind.”

Sam felt a chill and took a sip of the coffee in a futile effort to ward it off. “I asked Jen to go with me, Coach. She said no.”

When the slight creaking of the rocker ceased, Sam looked over to see Coach had stopped moving and was frowning at him. And that’s when he finally understood what the man was trying to dig down to.

“You thought I was running out on her, didn’t you?”

“The gossip in this town ain’t what it used to be.”

“Probably because it’s not really a gossip kind of thing. When you hurt like this, you might tell your best friend, but it doesn’t spread around.”

Coach started rocking again. “You talking about her? Or you?”

“I told her I was in love with her.” He sniffed hard and sucked at the back of his teeth for a second, trying to keep the rise of emotion at bay. “And she loves me, too. But she won’t leave Stewart Mills.”

“I’m sorry, son. I didn’t know it had gone that far.”

“It’s not just about validation. It’s a new life for myself. A new life with a job I want, built on a strong foundation this time. And I wanted her to share it with me, but she won’t
go. I’ve hated this town for so long, Coach. And even though I’ve come to actually like it here, it still seems weird to think about staying here. Calling it home.”

“You haven’t hated Stewart Mills, son. You’ve been hating what happened to you here. But you’re putting it behind you. I know you are because you’re letting Sheila be a mother to you again. The town’s just buildings. It’s the people that matter.”

Sam drank his coffee, rocking the chair slightly, while he considered the people Coach was talking about. The McDonnells. His mother. Alex and Gretchen. Chase and Kelly. The school staff he’d gotten friendly with. The football team. Other students he’d crossed paths with. Hell, even Miss Beecher had turned out to have his back.

And Jen.

“Everybody I care about is in this town,” he admitted finally.

“Just as importantly, everybody who cares about
you
is in this town.” Coach sighed. “This is your home, and I just hope you realize it before it’s too late. And it’s not because you were born here. It’s because the people you care about are here and you made yourself a place.”