“Wrong,” Cole said. “Do I think you should? Yeah. I think you’re making a huge mistake. I think you’ve got potential. I think you’re a leader—and I know you could be a great quarterback. But that’s not the only thing that matters to me.”
“Yeah, so what is?”
Cole’s heart worked overtime in his chest. He willed his breathing to steady. “You, Ash. Look, I get it. I know how hard it is to ask, but sometimes we all need a little help.”
“Like you do, Coach?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Asher turned away, then shook his head. “Forget it.”
“No, speak your mind,” Cole demanded.
The kid glared at him. “Fine. You want the truth? You suck, Coach. Yeah, we won games, but look how you got us there. All you did was make sure everyone was scared of you. You were mean—you made us feel like idiots.”
The words pummeled Cole like a sucker punch to the gut.
“So forgive me if I don’t want to share my problems with you.”
Cole watched him for a long moment. “Is that really why you quit?”
Asher ran a hand through his mess of hair. “No. I told you why. But you keep trying to act like we’re friends. We’re not friends, Coach.”
Cole held his gaze for a beat, then looked away. “You’re right.”
Asher shifted. “I am?”
“I’ve been asking you to do something I haven’t been willing to do,” Cole said. “I never let anyone help me either, and the last few years—I could’ve used it. Same as you.”
Asher shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Look, I can’t promise you I’m not going to screw up again, but I can promise you that if you need me, I’ll be there. On the field or off, no matter what. And I’m gonna do better, all right?”
Asher looked away.
Cole clapped a hand on his shoulder. “The job’s still yours if you want it. I’m starting the bathroom demo tomorrow. It’ll be hot and sweaty and it doesn’t pay well, but you’ll learn a skill you can actually use. It’s your choice.”
Cole stood there for a minute, but the kid didn’t respond. “I’m gonna go. I’ll see you around.”
Cole turned and started back toward the driveway, when his eyes found Charlotte, watching him.
Great.
“Let’s go,” he said as he passed her, not bothering to make sure she followed. It seemed he was destined for public humiliation, no matter what he did.
He got in the truck and slammed the door, started the engine, and replayed Asher’s comment in his mind. “You suck, Coach.”
And it stung. Because it was true.
And there was no way for him to deny it anymore.
21
Cole arrived early to the following day’s practice and found members of the team straggling in, looking tired, like boys who were staying up playing video games (or worse) all night long.
He thought about riding them—making them run, or do suicide drills for the duration of practice, but Asher’s words were still too fresh in his mind.
A reminder that the man he’d become was not the man he’d ever intended to be.
When Gemma left, he took up offense with life itself, and his boys deserved better.
Once they were out on the field, Cole waited as the boys circled up. He even said a silent prayer for a thunderbolt of an idea on how to unite this team, because so far, nothing was working. Though he had a feeling his approach was all wrong.
“Coach, are we gonna see your lady friend today?” Greg Dunbar asked.
“Yeah, I’d like to get a better look at her.” Will Hotchke slapped Dunbar a high-five and Cole bit the inside of his cheek.
“She looked like she could really work you over, if you know what I mean.” Using his face, hips, and hands, Hotchke took his comment from inappropriate to vulgar.
Dunbar’s laugh was loud, and the other boys joined in. Cole’s face grew hot and his temper flashed. “Take a lap, all of you!”
The boys’ groans were followed by a chorus of verbal grievances.
“That’s not how we talk about women on my field,” Cole shouted.
“Come on, Coach. We were just kidding.” Hotchke set his feet and glared at Cole.
“Take a lap, Hotch, or don’t bother coming back.”
After a pronounced pause, the kid chucked his helmet on the ground at Cole’s feet and walked off toward the locker room while the other boys stared. Hotchke was their best running back.
Cole would hear about this later. From the athletic director. From the boosters. From Bilby. He watched the other boys run a half-hearted lap as Matt arrived at the center of the field.
“What’d they do?”
“Disrespected a woman,” Cole said. “Don’t tell me I’m being hard on them.”
Bilby held his hands up in front of him. “I won’t. If our job is to make them better men, it starts there.”
“We’re going to need to make some changes around here, Bilby,” Cole said, thinking about how hypocritical it was not to ask for help after telling not one, but two different people there was no shame in it.
“What kind of changes?” Matt asked.
“I need to be a better coach,” Cole said. “And I’ve got to find a way to unify this team.” He didn’t bother looking at his assistant coach—he knew the guy was probably staring at him, slack-jawed.
The boys reached the end of their lap. Most were winded, though their run had been anything but fast. They circled back up. Cole stood in front of them, searching his mind for a magic solution to make them a team, but he came up empty.
He had to do better by them. He owed them that. Before he could say a word, he saw the boys’ attention drawn in the distance behind him. He turned and saw Asher walking toward them, dressed for practice. Next to him, an annoyed-looking Hotchke.
“Found this in the locker room, Coach,” Asher said.
Hotchke didn’t make eye contact with Cole. Instead, his gaze focused steadily on the grass between them. Asher pushed Hotchke with his shoulder, and the kid finally looked up.
“Sorry for disrespecting your lady friend, Coach,” Hotchke said.
Cole glanced at Asher, then back at Hotchke. “Forgiven,” Cole said. “So long as you keep that trash talk out of my locker room and off this field. Better yet, don’t talk like that at all.”
Hotchke nodded.
Cole took a step toward him, barely a foot between them now. “The world has enough guys treating women like dirt, Hotch. It’s so unoriginal. Be a better man.”
“Yes, Coach,” Hotchke said.
“Now, take a lap.”
Hotchke appeared to be trying not to roll his eyes, but Asher grabbed his arm, and the two of them ran off toward the track.
And the sight of their obedience made Cole feel for the first time in a long time like his team had a shot. He and Bilby split the boys up for drills, and Cole cast a sideways glance at Asher. The kid tossed him a look, then a barely detectable nod, as if to let him know everything was good between them.
They’d been running drills for about forty-five minutes when Bilby made his way over to Cole.