a constant emotion that made him feel at least something that kept him aware he was still alive. Now, though, there wasn’t much more running through him but anger and disappointment, with himself, and a hell of a lot of confusion.
“Noble,” he said, nodding her to him when he came a few feet close to where she and Baker stood talking. When she returned Ryder’s nod, not looking in a hurry to join him as they went through the kids they wanted for their teams, that unfamiliar confusion shifted, and his temper bubbled up again. “Noble. Now.”
That sharp demand earned him a glare from the woman, which she quickly removed from her face, and a few low mutters from the kids around him. He saw their confusion—it was in the tension around their eyes and mouth, in how they whispered to each other, low and quiet as they gossiped, and stared at Ryder like something bad had waddled into his brain and made him act hateful and grumpy.
Something had, he realized, and that something walked right toward him.
He expected Reese’s irritation to show in her features, or at least in her attitude, but when she stood in front of him, back straight, friendly smile greeting him, Ryder recognized the expression. This was her and the forced calm he remembered well, presented in front of the entire field. This was Reese saving face, while something angry and livid brewed beneath the surface.
“Ryder,” she said, waving to a few kids that spotted her and called after her. Then, she gave the quarterback all her attention, keeping her voice level, and that forced smile stretching her lips. She patted his shoulder, an easy gesture that made it seem like they were just teammates, just co-workers doing a job. Ryder knew the truth and, shit, was it scary.
Reese blinked, eyes relaxing and lit bright as she watched him. “I understand you are not feeling it today,” she said, her face shifting, moving from smile to smirk and back again despite the threat he knew would come. When it did, it would be delivered by someone who could curse your name and all your future hopes with the sweetest, welcoming smile. “I don’t think any of us want to be in the heat dealing with all these loud,” she waved to the kids, laughing and winking at a few, “obnoxious kids who can’t seem to follow directions to save their lives.”
She watched him again, folding her arms, moving her shoe against the dried, white paint outlining the field. “But if you ever yell at me like I’m some simple bitch willing to run and jump when you whistle again…” Reese’s smile was the widest he’d ever seen it and she shrugged, managing a sweet, amused laugh she didn’t mean, “then I’ll kick you so hard in the balls you’ll get an instant appreciation for just how rough the life of a regulation football is when it’s sent soaring by a hundred and forty-five pounds of Reese Noble quad power.” She nodded once. “K? Great,” she said, then patted his face with a swift, hard tap that stung more than either of them let on. Reese returned to the kids, spending the rest of the afternoon pretending that all was right and perfect in the world.
THERE WAS three days until the first game of the regular season. Before that, Ryder would have to contend with another Little Steamers’ camp, and he hoped to God it would go better than the first. Reese had spent most of the day ignoring him. Greer had done much of the same, and because of Ryder’s attitude, his other teammates and a few fans weren’t exactly thrilled with his grumpiness. He supposed he deserved their cold shoulders.
“Glenn.” He heard, head turning as one of the assistants came into the nearly-empty gym Ryder was just finishing up in. The man stepped three feet into the main weight area and threw a pointed thumb over his shoulder. “You got company.”
The assistant turned, tipping his black Steamers ball cap at the man waiting for Ryder, and then disappeared. The air froze in Ryder’s chest, and he instantly dropped his cell and earbuds, walking away from the weight bench as he met the man near the entrance.
“Coach?” Ryder said, extending a hand that he wasn’t sure Reese’s father would take.
“Knucklehead,” the man greeted, shaking Ryder’s hand. “There somewhere we can speak?”
“Yeah,” he told Coach Noble, drying his face with a towel before he directed the