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Nix
“You wanted to see me, Coach?”
“Come in, son. Take a seat.” He motioned to the empty chair.
“Should I be worried?” Strained laughter rumbled in my chest.
“You had a good practice this morning.”
“Thanks, Coach. I felt good.”
It was the truth. I’d nailed every pass, every play. Our defense had barely been able to touch me. I was on fire. And I was pretty sure I knew the reason.
“Something you want to tell me, Nix?”
I rubbed a hand over my jaw. “Nothing I can think of.”
“No? No reason for the extra spring in your step today?” His brow lifted with mild amusement.
“Something you want to ask me, Coach?”
“You saw her, didn’t you? Harleigh Wren?”
“I… yeah.” I couldn’t lie to him. Not Coach, the one man who had always believed in me. “Yeah, I did.”
“And the two of you figured things out?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I’m sure it is, son.” He sat back in his chair. “I’m sure it is.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him the truth: about the text messages, Michael, all of it. But the last thing I needed was him getting involved.
“Look, Coach, I appreciate your concern, but you don’t need to worry.”
“Famous last words.” He chuckled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “We have a big opening game Friday. I need you to keep a cool head. No matter what shit they try, no matter how much they try to provoke you, you need to rein it in.”
“I can handle it, I promise.”
His eyes narrowed. “And will Miss Maguire be in the crowd?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Hmm.” He stroked his jaw. “Have you given any more thought to Albany U? I spoke to their recruiter earlier and they want to come out and see you.”
“I…” Fuck. What was I supposed to say? That I wanted it, but I was scared as hell that I wasn’t good enough? That I’d get to college and realize I didn’t have what it took to play with the Falcons?
I was just a boy from The Row. What did I know about college football, and dreams of going pro?
“Nix, I don’t know how many times I need to say this, but you’ve got it, son. The spark. The talent. The charisma. But none of that means a thing if you don’t believe it.
“I know things at home aren’t easy.” Understatement of the fucking century. “But football could be your ticket out of here. I know you’re worried about Jessa, about leaving her. But this is your life, Nix. She made her choice, son.” His expression softened, full of pity and helplessness. “Maybe it’s time for you to make yours.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Good, that’s good. Let’s get Friday out of the way and see where we’re at.”
He knew as well as I did, Friday’s game was not the place to invite scouts to attend. It would be a dogfight, the rivalry between the Devils and the Hawks too entrenched in years’ worth of bitterness and resentment.
