one last night. Waltzing over here at midnight like I did.”
I smiled and said, “Right. But … we’re allowed to be friends.”
He gave me a purposeful look as we reached his car. “We’re allowed to be any damn thing we want to be. Right?” he said, as he opened the door for me.
“Right,” I said, my voice and hands unsteady. I ducked my head to climb inside his car as his hand dropped to my shoulder, guiding me. I had to catch my breath as he went around to his side, got in, and put his key in the ignition. Right before turning it, he looked at me again and said, “Do you know what’s going on here?”
I froze, trying to interpret the question, wishing my head were clearer.
“With us?” I clarified, the word filling the space between us, shrinking it further. I could smell his skin now, see individual whiskers on his face, pick out the few salt among the pepper.
He nodded, holding my gaze. “Yes,” he said. “With us.”
“I have an inkling,” I said, my pulse quickening further.
He flashed me a full-on, crinkly-eyed smile and said, “All right. Just checking.”
Then, as he fixed his attention on the road, I looked out my side window, my thoughts racing. We did not speak again, nor did we look at each other, until I directed him to my car, crookedly parallel-parked about fifty feet beyond the bar.
“So,” he said, pulling up behind it. “Here we are.”
“Yes,” I said. “Here we are.”
He squared his shoulder to me and reached out for my free hand. I gave it to him, and he squeezed my fingers between his. “Happy Thanksgiving, girl. Hope your Cowboys get a win,” he said, his hand warm and strong.
“They’re not my Cowboys,” I said, staring into his eyes. “I only have one team.”
“Oh, come on,” he said, releasing my hand, then reaching up to adjust his cap. “You know that’s not true.”
“It is true,” I said.
We sat that way for another few seconds, holding on to the moment, whatever it was that was happening between us. I broke the spell by saying, “Actually, Ryan’s pretty ticked at me. So today should be interesting …”
“Why’s that?”
“I didn’t call him last night.”
“Is that mandatory?” he retorted. “That you check in?”
“Last night it was. He asked me to call him by nine.”
“He gave you a deadline?”
“That’s when he goes to bed. Before games.”
“I see.” Coach nodded, clearly aware of such practices, as the enforcer of his own rules about sleep before games. His next question was neutral enough. “So why didn’t you?”
“Because,” I said. “I had other things on my mind.”
“Oh?”
I nodded. “I wasn’t thinking about Ryan. At all.”
“Well …” he began, then stopped.
“Well, what?”
“If you broke your promise, then just apologize …”
“I already did.”
“You spoke?”
“Voice mail.”
He nodded. “So that’s that. You apologized … Don’t grovel.”
“I won’t.”
“And don’t …” Coach began, looking down at my hand again. He seemed to be on the verge of holding it again but stopped himself. “Don’t let that boy control you.”
“What do you mean?” I was pretty sure I knew what he meant, but I wanted clarification, as much information as I could gather.
“Ryan is used to getting what he wants. He fully expects to get what he wants … And, because of that, he usually does.”
I nodded, thinking that it was an excellent summation of Ryan, but was still unsure of where Coach was going with the point until he looked at me and said, “Just make sure it’s what you want.”
I stared back at him, my hangover making my thoughts hazy but also emboldening me. It was an odd, scary combination. “I know what I want,” I said.
Coach held my gaze. “Good,” he said. “That’s a very good start.”
“Yes. It’s a start …” I said, then hesitated. I felt disloyal to Ryan saying anything more but managed to overcome that feeling, rationalizing that we were still speaking in generalities. “I just have to figure out how to get it.”
“Well,” Coach said, a hint of a smile appearing on his lips. “In my experience …”
I raised my brows, waiting for some philosophical gem. But instead, he finished his sentence with “The Big Red at the Parkit Market never hurts.”
I smiled and said, “So I’ve been told.”
Thirty minutes later, after I’d changed into black leather leggings, suede boots, and a Cowboy-blue sweater with a deep V in the back, I was on the road to Dallas. I checked my phone on and off the whole way,