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“Oh.” My voice drops low and I am humbled.
Coach saw the video.
“Yes, sir. It’s the same video. I didn’t know we were being filmed and I’ve never done anything like that before—and I’m not planning on ever doing something like that again. I set the record straight with Sloane an hour ago, but she’s still upset. She doesn’t trust me.”
Coach taps his hat against his upper thigh, shoves a hand in the pocket of his cargo shorts.
“Well, I’m glad to hear you didn’t do anything to hurt Sloane purposely.”
“I didn’t, sir. I love her. I asked her to move to Florida with me, before all this went down. I was planning on proposing.” My voice catches, despair ripping through me.The ring in my pocket’s suddenly heavier, weighing me down. A glittering reminder of my failure.
“Well, Cam, here’s what I’ll say about it. One—in the future, keep your damn pants on. You’re a professional athlete. That makes you an automatic target for all types of scammers. What you and your friends did, what you engaged in—that was a rookie move.”
I lick my lips and rub my clammy palms on my shorts. “Yes, sir.”
“Two—don’t keep beating yourself up about the video. You paid your penance with the team and now you’re suffering again. You’ve owned up to your mistakes and now it’s time to move on. Everyone makes mistakes.”
“I’ll bet you never made any mistakes like that.”
Coach’s serious face cracks and he lets out a belly laugh, throwing his head back so far I catch a glimpse of the tan line on his neck from his polo shirt.
“Son, I’ve made more than my fair share of mistakes. I do believe you dated my favorite mistake of all.”
Sloane.
“Nobody in this life is perfect. And thank God, or I wouldn’t have my daughter. Sometimes you have to run through the shit before you find out it was manure all along, meant to help your garden grow.
“Sloane is the greatest blessing in my life. If I hadn’t fucked up in high school—excuse my French—she wouldn’t be here today. At the time, I thought my world was ending. But it wasn’t. Sure, it wasn’t my plan. But things rarely go the way we plan. On the field or in life. You have to learn how to read the plays and run with it. One thing I’m always looking for in every player, every single season is adaptability. You have that, Cam. That’s what makes you a great asset to any team.”
I flex my knuckles, my throat thick.
“Thanks, Coach. I appreciate you saying that.”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, son. You know another thing you have that a lot of players don’t?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Grit. When you got cut in Chicago, you could have plopped down on your sofa eating junk food and watching daytime TV. But you didn’t. You came back here and trained. Took your knocks and made yourself faster, stronger, better. That’s grit, Cam. You didn’t quit, didn’t give up. You fought for what you wanted. And what you wanted was football.”
Tears sting the backs of my eyes, and I fight the surge of emotion swirling in my chest.
“If you want Sloane—and I believe you do, after watching the two of you not-so-covertly sneak around all summer—you need to fight for her. Don’t give up yet. She may take some convincing, but if anyone can make her come around, it’s you.”
“I wish I knew how to do that, Coach. I’ve tried quite a few things, but she won’t even take my calls.”
“Well, I’m not too solid in the love department. But I do know my daughter and I’m sure we can come up with a play or two.”
CHAPTER 43
CAM
On Coach’s advice, I keep trying with Sloane.
I call. I text. I send more bouquets, so many flowers the florist probably thinks I’m a stalker.
But everything I try fails.
She doesn’t want me.
