Chapter 9

The next few weeks, I worked my hours at the fire department and substitute taught as much as I could at Owen's school. Not because Claire taught there and Owen was in attendance, but because that's where I was coaching now. I wanted to be a presence on the campus as much as I could be.

Practices were three nights a week to accommodate my schedule. Several dads hung around practice to act as assistant coaches. The only problem had been Bryce's dad, Brian, who stood by the fence to yell at Bryce after most plays.

I was firm yet flexible when the kids needed it. Between teaching and coaching, I felt more like a therapist sometimes, but it was the age. The kids were hitting puberty at different times, and it was overwhelming for them. Some were starting to develop crushes, and others were oblivious to the social aspect of school.

I didn't have anyone to talk to about what was going on, and I wanted to. I wanted to hear how Owen was doing with his workouts and if Claire was taking time for herself. But we'd promised to act like we didn't know each other outside of football.

Neither one of us wanted the gossip and scrutiny that would come with it. But by the end of the third week, I had to talk to her. I sat on my couch, took a deep breath, and hit Send on her number.

"Jameson?" Her voice came over the line, and my entire body relaxed.

"Hey. I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing." I wasn't exactly sure why I was calling. What was it about Claire that had me acting like a teenager with his first crush?

"I thought we weren't going to do that," Claire chided, but I heard the smile in her voice.

"I wanted to talk to someone about coaching and teaching, and no one else in my life even understands why I'm doing those jobs."

"I'm the only one you could call?" Claire asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"That's right."

"Well, what did you need to talk about?"

"Has Owen done the new workout routine?"

"He has, and he's excited that he's starting to see some results. He swears he's growing muscles and that he feels stronger."

"That's great. Exactly what I wanted for him."

"But he said the weights are getting too easy."

"I'll send over new exercises and suggestions for weight."

"I really appreciate you taking the time to help him with it. I wouldn't know how to advise him."

"You know, one of the coaches on my baseball team gave me a workout regimen. He saw something in me and thought I should get stronger. That's when I fell in love with working out. It just took one coach showing an interest. I want to pass that on to someone, and I'm glad it's Owen."

"Me too."

"It was right after my mom died, and it gave me something to focus on. Something besides how my life was changing and would never be the same again," I admitted, feeling vulnerable.

"I can't even imagine." Claire's voice was full of compassion. "How is coaching going? I've made the tail end of practice a few times, and it seems like the kids are listening."

"It's been interesting. There are so many different personalities on the team. There's Colton who's so positive but he doesn't have a competitive bone in his body. Then there's Andrew who's talented but a bit of a goof. He's always joking around and trying to be the life of the team."

"Does that sound like someone else?" Claire teased.

"He's a little like me, I guess. Then there's Bryce who's talented, but his dad pushes him hard. He's made comments that if he doesn't play well, his dad will be pissed."

"How's Owen doing? I know you're not supposed to play favorites, but I worry about him."

"He listens to what I have to say, and he's respectful. He could use more practice outside of our scheduled times though."

"What should I do? Throw with him?"

"Can you get together with one of the other kids on the team?"

"I'll ask him if he's friends with anyone."

"That would be good."

"How's the house hunting going?" Claire asked.

"I haven't found anything I like. The more I think about it, the more I'm wondering if I should build on my dad's property. What do you think?"

"It doesn't matter what I think. This is your life."

"I want to know your opinion. I already know what my brothers will say."

"And what's that?" Claire asked lightly.

I sighed. "That I need to grow up and move away from home."

She sucked in a breath. "Would they really tell you to grow up?"

I ran a hand through my hair. "We give each other hell, but I know I've irritated them in the past by not knowing what I want to do. I still don't know what I want to do."

"Aren't you doing it? You're working in jobs that you enjoy and make you feel fulfilled."

I paused, wondering if she was right. "I'm happy doing what I am now even if I'm busier than I've ever been. The nice thing is that I can choose when I want to sub. So if I've worked a twenty-four shift at the firehouse, I don't sub that day."

"It sounds like you have everything figured out. I wouldn't worry about what your brothers think."

"That's easier said than done."

"I'm sure it is. But all that matters is whether you're happy."

"I'm getting there." The thing that I missed was the time I'd spent with Claire and Owen. It wasn't anything really, just a few dinners and evenings spent playing football, but it was the most fun I could remember having in forever.

It was too bad that we couldn't spend more time together.

"What do you want?" Claire asked, and my heart skipped a beat.

"What do you mean?" Was she asking about us? Did she know that I was interested in her, and it had nothing to do with Owen or football.

"Do you want to build a house on your family's property, or do you want to prove something by living somewhere else?"

Of course she wasn't talking about me liking her. She didn't even know how I felt. "I'm tired of proving myself to my brothers. I'm never going to measure up. I'd have to be in law enforcement and to have known what I wanted to do at eighteen. Because I spent a few years floundering, trying to figure out what I wanted, I'll forever be immature and irresponsible."

"Is that true though? You should really question that conclusion."

My jaw tightened. "I technically work three jobs. I don't have time to drive buses right now."

"You help people in all your jobs. I'd say what you do is admirable."

"Thanks, Claire. I needed someone else's perspective." I needed hers specifically.

"You're welcome. I'm glad I could help."

There was nothing left to say. I'd already exhausted the acceptable topics: football and Owen's workout regimen. How else could I keep her on the phone? "How are you?"

I should have said goodnight and kept things platonic. I shouldn't keep talking to her.

"It's weird. I feel like something is missing, but I don't know what."

I wanted to say me, but I didn't know if she thought of me as anything beyond her son's coach. "You'll figure it out."

"I hope so."

"I'd better let you go. It's getting late." I didn't want to think about where she was in the house at that moment. Was it too much to hope that she was in bed, and already in her pajamas? Does she wear flannel or silky ones?

"Jameson?" Claire asked.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for calling. I enjoyed our talk." I could hear the smile in her voice.

"You're welcome. Night, Claire."

"Night."

I felt lighter when I got off the phone. I jumped into the shower to wash off the sweat from practice. On the nights I substitute taught and coached, I always went for a run on the track and lifted weights. Otherwise, I worked out at the station and played basketball. I'd always been in good shape, but I felt even stronger now.

As I ran the soap over my tired muscles, I wondered if Claire thought I was attractive. If she'd appreciate all my hard work. And I couldn't help gripping the base of my cock that was hard at the thought of Claire and of whether she was touching herself in bed right now.

I groaned at the thought of her touching herself after talking to me. Would she play with her clit or slide her fingers inside? I spurted my release on the shower tiles with the thought of Claire underneath me, gripping my arms tightly while I drove into her.

I wasn't going to survive this situation. I wanted to talk to her more. I wanted to get to know her on another level. But it wasn't appropriate, not with our teaching positions and the coaching job.

If my brothers knew I was lusting after one of my player's moms, they'd think I was falling into my old ways. Then I remembered what Claire said. What I did was admirable. I was a good guy. I just wished she thought of me as more than her son's coach.

* * *

Our first game was Friday night, and I was stressed. The high school team was at an away game so we were on their field under the lights. I wasn't sure we were ready, but it didn't matter. Everyone would be watching to see how we did. I hadn't invited my family, but somehow they found out about it and were here anyway, sitting in the front rows of the metal bleachers.

"What are you doing here?" I stopped to ask Wes when I had a minute.

"We wanted to support you," Wes said.

"It wasn't necessary." I was nervous, and the last thing I wanted was everyone judging me, including my family. I always fell short with them.

"Not many people would do that when their kid wasn't on the team," Dad said.

"It's been challenging but also rewarding." When a kid finally caught the ball and went in for a touchdown. When he finally got the tackle just right, and the other player fell like a sack of potatoes. The pride on their face was everything.

"You'd better get back out there," Daphne said. "Your players are going to wonder where you are."

I turned and immediately ran into someone. I moved to steady her shoulders. "Sorry about that."

Claire looked up at me. "Jameson."

I should have taken a step back, but she felt too good under my palms. It was the closest I'd been to her since that night on her porch.

Claire was the first to step back, her eyes darting around us. "You ready for the game, coach?"

The kids called me that, but Claire never had. I wasn't sure I liked it. I preferred when she called me Jameson. It felt like she was the one person who saw me. "We are."

"Good luck out there."

I knew what she was doing, pretending we weren't anything more than coach and parent, when I wanted so much more.

Claire moved up the bleachers to find a seat, and Daphne raised her brow at me. Shit. That had played out in front of my entire family. I hope they hadn't noticed how Claire made me feel off-kilter. If so, they wouldn't let me hear the end of it.

"I'd better get out there," I mumbled as I stalked toward the field, yelling out a reminder about the starting lineup.

I told them to grab water. Then it was time for the coin toss. Once the game started, I was completely focused on my players, the next play, and what was happening on the field. I yelled out encouragement and praise. At this age, confidence was everything.

I found myself telling more than one player to let a mistake go. A missed tackle, a dropped ball only lasted as long as you let it. They needed to move on. But it was a hard skill to learn and would take them a while to get it, if ever. Only the best players could put mistakes behind them and continue as if it hadn't happened.

By halftime, we were down twenty-one to seven. I didn't pay attention to the crowd; I focused on the kids. "We still have time to turn this around. Don't look at the scoreboard. It's a zero-zero game. On offense, let's move down the field, one play at a time. On defense, let's stop them one play at a time. You ready to go back out there?"

When they all nodded, I said, "Cougars on three."

They yelled "Cougars," and then "We believe we will win!" and continued chanting for a few seconds. The energy was contagious. When they ran out onto the field I yelled, "Let's go. Let's go. Let's go."

Colton's dad, Tim, stood next to me. "You're doing a good job with them."

I glanced at the scoreboard. "Are you sure about that? We're down by fourteen."

He gave me a look. "You just told them it was a scoreless game. You might want to take your own advice."

I sighed. "You're right. And thank you."

He touched my shoulder. "You got this, coach."

There was something about this show of support from people who hadn't known me my whole life that felt good.

The next half was different. I could see the kids were more focused and less inclined to get upset when something didn't go right. They quickly regrouped with Colton leading the positivity train. At the end of the game, the score was twenty-four to twenty-one, and even though we didn't win, I was overcome with emotion.

I had them take a knee in the center of the field. "I couldn't be prouder of you. You put the first half behind you and went back out there looking like a different team. That's progress. That's success."

"But, coach, we lost," Bryce whined.

"You didn't. Not in here." I touched my chest over my heart. "You have more heart than the other team. You went out and fought. And, yeah, we fell short today. But if you keep coming out there and playing like I just saw in this second half, all you'll do is win."

"All we do is win, coach," Colton said leading a new chant. "All we do is win."

And it might have confused the fans because we most certainly lost, but it felt good, and I knew we'd come out the next time looking even better.

I directed the kids to clean up, grab their bags, and to shower at home. There were parents waiting to talk to me, so I put on my game face and started with Brian.

"You lost."

I raised a brow. "Then you didn't see what I saw. I saw a team that persevered, that overcame mistakes, and played stronger. I see the potential."

Brian's mouth opened, then closed.

"I'm proud of these kids. They played their heart out." And it wasn't even a championship game. It was game one of a new season. "I'm so excited for what they can do. I hope you are too."

Then I moved past him to the next parent who thanked me for being so positive with the kids. By the time I was done talking to parents, Claire was nowhere to be found.

I tried not to let that get to me. We'd said we wouldn't let on that we knew each other. And my brothers were still hanging around.

"You want to grab a beer?" Wes asked.

"Sure. Why not?" I said, feeling high from the game.

We ended up at Teddy's house which was closer to town. He had a bar in the basement, and we all sat on the stools while he grabbed beers, twisting the tops off, then handing them to us.

Teddy lifted his bottle in the air with a grin. "To our little brother, who's all grown up."

"I'm not little," I grumbled, wondering when my brothers' ribbing wouldn't bother me anymore.

Wes lifted his beer, then clinked it against mine. "Yeah, we know."

I raised a brow. "Do you? Because you never fail to mention it."

"If it bothers you, we'll stop," Wes said. "Right, Teddy?"

"If you can't handle a little fun." Teddy tipped his bottle back and took a long pull.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm all grown up with a paying job times three."

"And we're proud of you," Wes said.

I snorted.

"What? We are," Wes insisted.

Teddy braced his hands on the counter. "I thought how you handled those kids was impressive. You didn't let them get down on themselves. It was the perfect mix of pushing yet letting them figure things out for themselves."

Wes nodded. "I wish I had a coach like you when I was that age."

"Seriously? You're not fucking with me?" Because Teddy was known for that when we were younger.

Teddy shook his head. "You were good out there. I think you're doing what you were called to do. If you're half as good at teaching as you are coaching—"

"But—" There had to be a catch.

"Why the hell did you become a firefighter?" Wes asked, shifting on the stool to get a look at me.

"I like being a firefighter. I feel like I'm living my best life." The only thing missing was someone to come home to. I'd much rather be drinking this beer on Claire's front porch than shooting the shit with my brothers.

Wes nodded. "I'm glad you're happy."

"How about you?" I asked them, wanting to get the attention off my inability to choose one thing to do with my life. I was fairly certain that criticism was coming next.

"We're meeting with Charlotte soon. Can you come?" Wes asked.

"Let me know which day. I'll be around helping Dad tag the trees for the season."

"I don't know why we have to meet with her. We don't need a marketing person," Teddy grumbled.

"Something needs to change at the farm. It's either figure out what can be fixed or shut it down," Wes reminded him.

"I'm not giving up on the farm," Teddy said, his jaw tight.

"Neither am I," I said.

"We'll do whatever it takes to bring things around. We can't rule out the possibility that Ryder and maybe even Axel will move back home."

"I'll drink to that," Teddy said.

It felt good to spend time with my brothers and plan the future of the farm. I couldn't help but think it would be nice for all the Calloways to be home.