“I got it, Coach.” Asher shoved the helmet back on his head and took off in the other direction as Matt Bilby, Cole’s assistant coach, fell in to line at his side.
“Maybe go a little easy on him today, Coach,” Bilby said.
Cole pulled his baseball cap down lower over his eyes. “Why would I do that? He’s got big shoes to fill.”
“He’s going through some stuff,” Bilby said.
“What kind of stuff?”
“Family stuff. You know his situation.”
Cole did know his situation. Everyone knew, though Asher didn’t like talking about it. They ran the play again, and this time, Asher threw a perfect spiral, right into the hands of the wide receiver.
Cole shot Bilby a look, as if the spiral was justification for Cole’s brand of tough love. What was he supposed to do? Treat Asher with kid gloves while he kicked everyone else’s butts into gear?
There was a lot riding on this next season, and his team was young. Asher was only a junior, and he was their top prospect for a quarterback to replace last season’s star senior, Jared Brown. More than half of last year’s team graduated, so the way Cole saw it, he had three months to get these boys into shape, to turn his young team into a strong team, and even he knew three months wasn’t long enough.
“Summer practices usually start a little later, Coach,” Bilby said. “Maybe give them a little bit of a break since they’re all volunteering to be here.”
“They’re volunteering to be here because they want to win.” Cole tucked his clipboard under his arm and faced Matt. “Do you?”
He walked away, aware that his mood was foul and he shouldn’t be allowed to talk to anyone in his current state. But he’d been in a foul mood for months—why stop now?
He blew his whistle and the team circled up at the center of the field. Cole looked at the faces of these young boys, boys he’d known, in some cases, for a few years, and in others, a lifetime. They watched him now, most likely expecting an inspirational speech about how they had a state title to defend, about how they weren’t seeded to win anything notable this year, about how it didn’t matter because they could defy odds and exceed expectations.
But Cole didn’t have those words in him. Not today.
Not after seeing Gemma earlier that morning for the first time since the divorce was final. Couldn’t she have found a new place to vacation after everything she’d put him through? Sure, Harbor Pointe had been her summer home for years before they got married, but was it too much for Cole to expect a sliver of consideration?
He thought back on the circumstances surrounding their divorce and had his answer. Definitely too much to expect.
“Good practice, guys. We’ll meet out here tomorrow morning, same time.”
“But tomorrow’s Saturday.”
Cole looked at the redheaded Teddy Phillips. “And?”
The kid’s jaw snapped shut. “And nothing, Coach.”
“Look, I don’t have to tell you we aren’t exactly favored to repeat last year’s success,” Cole said. “But we’re gonna train and we’re gonna play like we are. Got it?”
There was a collective muttering.
“I’m sorry, what?” Cole raised his voice.
“Yes, Coach!” the boys yelled in unison.
“Bring it in.” He thrust his fist into the circle and the boys piled their hands on top of his.
“Hawks on three,” Cole shouted. “One, two, three—”
“Hawks!” the boys shouted and took off toward the school, where they’d shower, change, then head in to one of the first days of summer like they didn’t have a care in the world.
Cole envied them that freedom.
Well, most of them.
“Twenty-two!” Cole called out.
Asher stopped and turned around to face him. “Coach?”
Cole waved him over.
When the kid reached him, helmetless and sweaty, he looked up at Cole in anticipation. Cole wished he was the kind of guy who could say everything he was thinking or feeling—the kind of guy who could speak to this kid in such a way that it gave him hope that his future was going to get easier.
But he wasn’t. Words didn’t come easily to him, and even less so lately. Still, this kid mattered—regardless of his potential as a quarterback.
“You okay?”
Asher looked away, and for a split second Cole thought the kid might cry. He wasn’t great with words, but he was even worse with tears. Men shouldn’t cry, especially not in front of each other, unless there was an athletic victory involved.