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Chapter 11
Cornell locked an arm playfully around Julian’s neck. “Proud of you. You moved that ball down the field like a pro tonight.”
Julian ran a hand over his long, dark, freshly washed hair. “Thanks, Coach. Guess I’ve got to just kick the nerves.”
Cornell pushed open the door that led to the parking lot. “Keep kicking them like you did tonight.” Julian nodded before a smile spread slowly across his face. “That’s your crew?” Cornell asked, motioning to the young girl swaying gently with a baby strapped to her chest.
“That’s them.” Julian turned to Cornell. “I’ll see you Sunday for film.”
Cornell watched Julian trot over, ducking to kiss the sleeping baby’s head before wrapping an arm around his girlfriend and walking deeper into the parking lot. The pep in his step that moved him along was difficult to ignore and brought a grin to Cornell’s face.
No gray area in Juco football. You either get a Julian, a kid raising a kid and still using the opportunity, or a Graham, an egotistical, too-good-for-everyone, has-been who wouldn’t know an opportunity for redemption if it slapped him.
There simply was no in-between.
“That’s your QB?” his father asked, walking up beside him.
“That’s my QB1,” Cornell corrected.
“And he’s got a baby?”
Cornell nodded. “He’s got a baby. But he also has the drive that’s going to get him out of this place and into a top four-year program.” He looked over at Peter. “Kids like that are an honor to coach.”
His father held Cornell’s gaze for a moment before it slid into a wide, flat smile.
“What?” Cornell asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“A player would run through a wall for the right coach. Maybe it’s men like you that make honorable coaches.”
Cornell glanced down at his feet, pressing his lips together. Maybe he just didn’t get it before, he thought. But I didn’t either. There’s more to this game than the final score and how high a level you play at. There’s just more to football. His mother taught him that, but Cornell learned it from Ali.
“Are the Crawfords up for a nightcap? We’re heading to Henley’s,” Jasper said, walking past them.
With Ali’s accident, sleeping in Fort Worth, and work, he felt guilty that he hadn’t spent much time with his father. “How about a beer?”
Peter smiled. “I’d like that.”
As they walked across the lot to Cornell’s car, he pulled his phone from his pocket. There wasn’t any message from Ali even though Cornell wasn’t expecting one—he had called her before the game, and she was already going to sleep even though it was just after five in the evening.
“What time are you picking up Ali tomorrow?” his father asked.
Cornell slowed, turning onto Main Street. “I guess sometime in the morning. When is your flight on Sunday?”
“Early,” Peter answered. “I’ll get an Uber to the airport.”
“Dad—”
“You don’t need to be up at the crack of dawn on your day off. You two sleep in. I’ll manage on my own.”
Cornell pulled into a free space down the street from Hopperville’s only bar. His heart flipped, thinking about a lazy weekend at home with Ali. Couch. Movies. Cuddling. Holding her. God, I just want to hold her.
“Is Janice upset you’ve been gone so long?” Cornell asked, putting the car into park. He didn’t have a bad relationship with his stepmother as a child, but he knew there was resentment from all the time and energy his father gave him in high school when he was still micromanaging Cornell’s future football career. As an adult, their rapport was formal and polite—everything kept at a distance.
“She understands,” Peter said as they got out of the car.
Hopperville was a small, sleepy town, and even on weekends, most people retired for the evening by eight—but the town came out that night to celebrate. At Henley’s, Cornell had to weave through the crowd to reach the bar before sitting with his father at a high-top table in the back, where Evan, Jasper, and a few other coaches and school staff had gathered.
Evan gave the back of Cornell’s neck a squeeze. “Glad you took some time to celebrate. I know it hasn’t been an easy week for you. How’s Ali doing?”
