43. Cam

CHAPTER 43

CAM

O n 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.

I hurt her too badly and there’s no coming back from this.

As a last ditch effort, I even take advice from Ansley and light candles, turn around in circles, then search the night sky for shooting stars to make a damn wish.

Nothing doing.

It’s over.

I fumbled hard. Had the ball in the end zone and dropped it.

Now I’m leaving Thunder Creek tomorrow. But I still have a few loose ends to tie up before I go.

The first task on the list is one final practice with Langley. Technically, I can’t work out with the team anymore, since I signed on with Fort Lauderdale. But tossing balls on a field with a friend?

There’s enough of a loophole there.

“Let’s run the routes Coach assigned last week. Remember, you don’t have to look at your man. I’ve got you, and your receiver during the season will too. Count it down and let it fly.” I slap his back, tossing him the football.

He nods slowly, digesting what I said before running down the field.

As he jogs away, I take a second to soak everything in. Although the circumstances were shitty, it was kind of amazing coming back to my hometown and playing on my high school field. Comparing times and plays and seeing the sport through young, eager eyes.

Being back on this field with Coach Carter was a gift. Not every high school coach would have welcomed a player back with open arms.

But Coach didn’t hesitate, not even for a second.

And neither did his daughter.

I shove that thought away as Langley signals to me and counts.

One, two, three…the ball flies through the air and I run the route, jumping to grab the ball.

“Yes!” I fist-pump into the sky. “Perfect. Next play…”

We run every play Coach has in the playbook, including Special Teams and trick plays. Langley nails every single one.

Football in hand, I jog down the field to join him. I’m hot, sweaty, and tired, but satisfied. My work here is done.

As long as he executes, Langley should get the starting QB spot on the team.

“Great job.” I toss him the ball. “You’ve got this. Text me when Coach makes the announcement. But I expect great things from you.”

He beams at me, his chest puffed up with newfound confidence. “Thanks, Cam. Even if I get the back-up position, I still grew as a player working with you. I appreciate it.”

My heart swells, throat thick with emotion.

This kid. He’s gonna go far with a winning attitude like that. Grateful, humble, talented. He can have it all someday.

“You’ll get it. Go out there and execute. You had it in you the whole time.” I throw my arm around his shoulder and we walk off the field together.

My last stop is Coach’s house. I purposefully plan around Sloane’s schedule, making sure to swing by while she’s at work, but before football practice.

Coach answers the door, sandwich in hand. “Cam. Come on in. Want lunch?” He motions for me to shut the door and I follow behind him to the kitchen.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“How about some lemonade? They won’t have the good stuff down in Florida.” He shoots me a sideways grin and I nod.

“Sure.”

Coach pours me a glass of lemonade and I sit with him at the kitchen table. I try not to think back on all the meals I had here with Sloane, my hand resting on her thigh, her bare foot rubbing my calf.

That’s all history now and there’s no going back .

“You’re leaving soon, huh?” Coach interrupts my daydreaming.

“Yes, sir. I’m hitting the road at first light tomorrow. I’m due on the field the day after, and I need to get settled before pre-season starts.”

“That’s too bad. We’re gonna miss you around here.” A deep V forms between his brows as he stares across the table at me.

I wonder which we he’s talking about. Surely not Sloane. She’ll breathe easier once I’m out of Thunder Creek for good.

“I’ll miss you and the guys for sure.” I swipe at a drop of condensation on the outside of the glass and try to ignore the strangled feeling in my throat.

“I take it you and Sloane didn’t work things out yet?” He arches one brow high, studying me over the last bite of his sandwich.

“No, sir. I tried, but she’s still upset.”

“I figured that, judging by the way she’s been moping around here. Driving me a little nuts, not gonna lie.”

I puff out a breath, my chest tight. “I’m sorry about that, Coach. But I’m not sure what more I can do.”

He frowns at me, dusting the crumbs from his hands onto the plate. “Seems like now’s the time for a Hail Mary.”

I squint across the table at him. “Excuse me?”

“Yep. It’s time to break out the big guns, son. You have to put yourself out there, lay everything on the line. It’s the fourth quarter here and you’re down. There’s a risk she’ll say no, there always is. No way around it. Do you think you can handle that?” He levels his gaze on me, his stare as intense as it is during the last seconds of a game when we’re losing by a touchdown .

“Yes, sir. I’d rather take that chance than live with regrets.”

“Atta, boy.” He smacks his palm down on the table, rattling the wood. “So here’s the scenario?—”

Leaning back in his chair, he grabs a pen from the junk drawer behind him and the two of us put our heads together. We come up with a big play, Coach scribbling the route down on a paper napkin, a series of X’s and O’s as intricate as any football offense.

After thirty minutes, he caps the pen and sits back, arms folded across his chest. “You’ve got this, son. Give it your best shot.”

I grab the napkin and stuff it in my pocket, determined to do everything I can to win back Sloane.