“On a football scholarship.”
“I read about the psychological aspects of the game. Shut up. Let’s try that again.”
~*~
They worked for another hour or so, until the shadows had grown long across the grass, and the air had begun to cool, their shirts heavy and clammy now with sweat that left Carter shivering pleasantly. They sat down on the grass by their bags, legs stretched out, drinking water from the bottles they’d each brought. Things felt easier now, that early tension burned away by hard work and success: Elijah was hitting something like sixty percent of his passes now, and though he’d said he needed to do better, Carter had assured him he’d get there.
“Which schools are you applying to?” Carter asked.
“All of them,” Elijah said with a snort, knocked his feet together absently. “I’m making straight As, and I’m in Spanish and drama club. Extracurriculars, you know? I volunteer at an old folks’ home, too.”
“Wow,” Carter said, genuinely impressed. “Sounds like you’ve got all the bases covered.”
“Yeah.” Elijah shrugged, self-consciousness creeping back in. “I mean, that’s what it was at first. It’s not enough to be smart and play ball well. You’ve gotta have the full resume, you know? But, I actually really like drama.” He snorted. “Maybe I’ll be an actor when I’m done with football.”
“More and more guys are doing that – it’s a good career move. I don’t think there’s a baking show on TV that doesn’t have a former NFL guy as the host.”
Elijah laughed – the first time he’d laughed since they met.
“No, I’m serious, you might get to meet Martha Stewart.”
His laughter deepened – and he laid back across the grass, hands folded over his stomach as it died away slowly, happily.
Carter’s life had become so pathetic that making someone laugh felt like a victory.
After a moment, when the silence was once again only broken by the twitter of birds and the distant calls of children over on the playground – ignoring their mothers’ calls that it was time to go home and have dinner – Elijah’s gaze cut over, serious once more, assessing. “You’re good at this.”
Carter lifted his brows.
“Coaching.”
He was too stunned to respond.
“You ever think about doing it as a career?”
“No.”
Elijah shrugged and glanced away. “Maybe you should. If the whole biker thing doesn’t work out.”
In truth, he’d never considered such a thing. Opportunities were for people with better connections, better resources, and, above all, money – all things he hadn’t had when he left college. He’d spiraled straight into depression, written off the whole rest of his life, and never stopped to consider other possibilities. When Ava walked into Leroy’s that day, he’d seen it as a sign, as the best offer he was likely to get.
Tripped up on second-guessing, he nearly missed what was unfolding right under his nose: an inroad to talking about the high school. His stomach soured when he thought of it. He’d come here out of a genuine desire to help Elijah; he wasn’t running a sting, or trying to use this kid for his own, nefarious purposes.
But.
He wore the black dog on his back. That came with responsibilities and obligations. He could hear Ghost’s voice in his head: If you club has your back, then you have to have the club’s.
He drew one knee up and rested his chin on it. “Since you brought it up: the other night. When your teammates were giving me a hard time.”
Elijah stiffened immediately, face blanking. Shit. “Man, they were just playing. They didn’t mean anything.”
“No, I know. It didn’t bother me. But. Like. When I was in school, everybody thought the Dogs were pretty cool” – a total lie; he’d watched them torment Ava, had known what Mason’s posh set thought of the local “biker trash” – “but it seems like maybe they don’t anymore.”
Elijah fidgeted a moment, fingers drumming against his stomach. He made a face, squinting against the sinking sun – or maybe shrinking back from what was probably a harsh truth he was reluctant to share. “You guys have a reputation, you know? You’re not scary. But everybody knows who runs all the drugs in this town. And when you guys all go down the street together like you do…”
“Yeah,” Carter said. “I get it.”
“Everybody around here knows who Ghost is. Everybody knows that he isn’t the guy you ever want showing up.”
Even if he was trying to work on public relations, Carter thought there was a large part of Ghost who would be delighted to know that. Plenty of his brothers relished being a dark shadow that fell across doorways; the boogeyman in the middle of the night.
“I had someone tell me they thought the Dogs were responsible for that girl that went missing.”
Elijah’s brows went up. “Allie?”
“You know her?”
“She came to a lot of the games last season with her friends. She was on the homecoming committee. But I wasn’t friends with her, no. I was at the party, though, the one where she disappeared, after.”
“See anything weird?”
“Nah. The usual shit. Jimmy’s parents weren’t home, and he’d gotten his older brother to buy a keg. Buncha stupid white kids getting drunk and spilling shit on the furniture.”
“Wait. Jimmy Connors?”
“Yeah. His dad has that boat place.”
Alarm bells went off the in the back of Carter’s mind, but he fought to keep his face smooth.
“I left early,” Elijah continued, oblivious to Carter’s internal note-taking. “Had practice the next day.”
“That’s smart. Hey, do people still go up to the quarry for their keggers?”
“Shit, no, that place is haunted.”
“Not as haunted as Hamilton House.”
“I know, right?” Elijah sat up, shaking his head emphatically. “And I’m not even talking ghosts. No one has ever had a party there that didn’t end with at least five people arrested.”
Carter laughed, and Elijah echoed him. He tucked his little piece of intel away, and leaned back on his hands, breathing in the early grass and honeysuckle smells of evening. He didn’t want to be a Lean Dog right now. For a few minutes longer, he just wanted to be a guy who liked football.
~*~
Gratifyingly sore and tired from his workout, his stomach was rumbling as he passed through town. The warm, golden glow of Cook’s Coffee drew his attention at a red light, and then he thought about the bagel sandwich he’d had in there the other night, and then he was pulling over against the curb, parking, and going in.
The strong smell of coffee hit him first, and then the undercurrents of sweet and savory from the food. The low murmur of busy voices washed over him: lots of students working away on laptops and over notebooks. Dressed as he was, fresh from a workout, he had the sense he’d gone back in time. That he might have been a student, too, hopeful for the future, and still innocent.
“I’m starting to think you’re stalking me,” a familiar voice said, and he turned to find Leah sitting at one of the window tables, in front of her laptop.
His smile was automatic, and accompanied by a surge of warm fondness in his chest. “Nah. Just your mom’s bagel sandwiches.”
She nodded sagely. “If I have to come in second, it’s definitely a compliment to come in second to one of Mom’s sandwiches.” Her smile afterward, when she broke character, rooted him in place a moment.
The thing about Leah was: she was beautiful. He’d known that even in high school. But she’d been friends with Ava, who was shunned by the popular crowd for her Lean Dog origins, which in turn meant, loyal friend that she was, Leah had been shunned, too. But he’d noticed that she was pretty. That she was so confidently herself, and not at all bothered about looking like the dyed-blonde, fake tan crowd trying to look like Abercrombie models.
As a football star, he’d been expected to have one of those tan, co
tillion-ready blondes on his arm at every dance, and he’d dated several. But beyond the shiny veneer, he’d not found anything like true companionship.
He’d been attracted to Ava, brooding, and quiet, and aloof. But Ava had most definitely never been attracted to him.
Now, all these years later, he felt a pang of regret that he hadn’t properly appreciated Leah’s candid good cheer, and her easy sense of humor.
As he watched her, marveling more than a little, she moved some of her things aside, clearing a space across from her on the table. “Here. I’ll save you a seat while you get your food.”
“Oh. Yeah. Thanks.”
Her dad was working the counter tonight, and sight of him sobered Carter up fast.
“Carter,” he greeted, brows giving a single jump of surprise. He’d said Carter’s name with the firm, loud air of a commanding officer. “We’ve seen you around here a lot lately.” Not an accusation – not quite.
Carter swallowed. “The food’s good, sir. I like the new menu.”
Mr. Cook stared at him a moment, before a flicking a quick glance toward his daughter – so fleeting Carter would have missed it if he’d blinked; but he’d seen it, and his belly squirmed unpleasantly. “What can I get you tonight?”
“I don’t think your dad likes me,” he whispered, a few minutes later when he sat down with his sandwich and an iced green tea. He’d been hitting the burgers and whiskey lately, and the sight of his meal went a long way toward softening Marshall Cook’s severity.
Leah picked her head up, fingers stilling on her keyboard. “What? No, he does. Why?”
“When I went up there, he was all, ‘Carter.’ Like he wanted to call me young man or something. He said I’ve been in here a lot.”
“So? You have.”
“But not in a good way.”
She huffed a laugh. “You work for Ghost Teague, but my dad’s the scary one?”
“He’s…” He felt his face heat, and resisted the urge to squirm in his chair. It wasn’t that he was scary on his own; it was more that he’d given Carter that look right after Carter had been thinking about how pretty the guy’s daughter was.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He took a massive bite of his sandwich, and then realized he couldn’t talk. Nodded instead to her computer.
She understood. “I’m filling out all my new employee paperwork so I don’t have to do it tomorrow. I got a job!”
He swallowed. “Really? That’s awesome.”
“Yeah. I finally asked for Maggie’s help, and I had a job offer, like, four hours later. It’s insane.”
“Club stuff usually is. Where is it?”
“One block that way.” She pointed over her shoulder through the window. “That big glass building.”
He knew the one, and he frowned. “Which company?”
“Evolent.” She made a face. “Weird name, I know, but then again my new boss has a weird name, so…” She trailed off, gaze sharpening on his face. “Oh, are you gonna do it, too? I hope you’re not, because I really need this job, and Maggie says it’s fine, so…”
“Do what?”
“Ava got all freaked when she found out I was gonna work for Ian – I mean, Mr. Shaman. That’s how he introduced himself, so that’s what I should call him, right? Well, technically, his secretary introduced him, but, same principle. But like I said: Maggie says it’s fine, and, really, Ava was just worried I wouldn’t want to be too close to the club, which is dumb, because she’s my best friend, and right now my only friend, and she’s tied to the club, so.” She shrugged and let out a deep breath, winded from rambling.
She was nervous, he realized.
“That’s not true,” he said, and her brows shot up. “That Ava’s your only friend. I’m your friend.” When she blinked at him, he said, “Right?”
Her expression warmed, melted into a quiet smile. “Yeah. Definitely.” Her smile quirked mischievously. “Even if you are a sex fiend who gets his face smashed in.”
He groaned. “Please don’t.”
“So why do you think I shouldn’t work for Ian?”
A welcome – if no less tricky – change of subject. “I’m not saying it’s a bad idea.”
“Which is totally why you put all that emphasis on the word.”
“Ian is – let’s just say that when we first met him, he wasn’t exactly a friend. It’s been kind of a weird, slow evolution over time. He’s a friend of the club now – hell, he’s helped us do things we never could have otherwise. He’s an ally. Ghost trusts him, so I guess we all should. And I genuinely think the guy likes and respects Ghost. He’s kinda weird, though.”
“He’s very intense,” Leah agreed, nodding.
“He’s got big villain energy.”
She chuckled. “Yeah, definitely. All he needed was a white cat.”
“It would have gotten hair all over his fancy suit.”
She laughed again, her smile more than a little dazzling, her dark eyes sparkling, and Carter was very glad he’d decided to stop in.
Fifteen
Leah woke at three the first morning of her new job. She lay in the dark, staring at her ceiling, berating herself for ten minutes. “You don’t get nervous,” she said. “You really don’t.”
Which was a lie, because she certainly did, and had done so her whole life, but she’d learned how to handle it well. To hide it, even. Anyone watching her would have sworn she didn’t get rattled about things.
But Chicago, feeling like she’d failed, had shaken things up a little. It was always harder to try again than it was to set out for the first time.
And, if she admitted it, Ava and Carter’s less than enthusiastic response to her new employer had her doubting things.
“Nope,” she said aloud. “Nope, nope, not today, Satan.” She flung off the covers, and went to get ready.
She swung by the coffeeshop on the way in, to get a good luck hug from her mom, and to add ill-advised caffeine to her already-jittery system.
Her mom was waiting behind the counter, steaming travel cup and a chocolate chip muffin waiting.
Ava was standing in front of the counter, leaning back against it, holding her own travel cup.
“What are you doing here?” Leah exclaimed, filled with a sudden, nearly-overwhelming burst of gladness to see her best friend.
“Mom’s watching the kids for me so I could come wish you good luck on your first day.” She grinned, and held out a brown paper bag. “She also made you lunch: roast chicken on sourdough, and homemade fries.”
“You guys.” Because not only was she nervous this morning, but liable to burst into unhelpful tears. She took the bag, and then tackled Ava in a hug that had Ava laughing and protesting about spilling her coffee.
For a minute, with Ava’s lavender-scented hair tickling her nose, Ava’s arms tight around her own much-smaller frame, she felt sixteen again. Like it was the two of them against the world – or at least just against Knoxville – and she’d always felt her most invincible when they had each other’s backs.
She pulled back, and saw Ava blink a few times, tossing her hair over her shoulder to hide it. “Go forth and account things. Make us proud.”
Leah saluted her.
“You’re gonna do great, baby,” her mom assured, leaning over the counter to offer a less-crushing, but no less warm and welcome hug of her own. She kissed Leah’s cheek as she pulled back, eyes sparkling and shiny with unshed tears. “It’s so good to have you home, I was just telling Ava.”
“Mom.”
“She was,” Ava agreed, nodding, “and I can’t second that sentiment enough.” She gave Leah another, quicker hug. “Knock ‘em dead – and I mean that literally. If Ian’s an ass, you have my permission to slap the pretentious right off of him.”
It wasn’t far to the office, but she drove there, rather than take up a valuable customer parking place in front of the shop. She parked in the new, well-lit deck behind the building, and showed her I
D to the guard behind the desk at the rear entrance.
“Just a sec,” he told her, and another immaculate, gently-smiling employee – Josh, this time – appeared from nowhere and took her to have her photo snapped for an ID card.
Fifteen minutes later, still-hot ID hanging from the waistband of her skirt by a little clip, Josh led her down a hallway on the third floor, and into a wide open, well-lit space studded with open-concept cubicles; the kind with only the barest nod to privacy, and easy sightlines to encourage cooperation and collaboration. (She’d already seen it last night, online, in the training video Candace had emailed her the link for.)
It was a pretty space, with a full, open-concept kitchen along the back wall, and floor-to-ceiling windows to offer dramatic views of the streets and shops below. More plants; she was sensing a theme. And several plush couches and chairs with side tables. Breaks were encouraged, her introductory email packet had explained.
Three people were already seated at computers, more smartly dressed than her, she noticed. All of them glanced up at the sound of her arrival. All of them smiled.
One young woman waved. “Hi! You must be Leah.”
The young man nearest stood up to shake her hand.
Leah took a deep breath, told her nerves to cool it, and got started.
~*~
“Why are you so terrible at this?” Tenny asked. He lifted his arms again, feet spread on the mat, bent slightly forward at the hips, ready to strike again. “Again. Come at me.”
Evan wiped sweaty hair off his forehead, squinting against the sunlight that beat down on the back salvage lot behind the clubhouse – and scowling at Tenny. Sweat had soaked through his t-shirt, plastered his hair to his head, and bruises were already starting to come up on his arms, faint shadows and smudges. He’d yet to land a hit of his own, and Fox had stopped offering instructions and was just watching now, sitting impassively on a picnic table, watching the match play out from behind dark sunglasses.
“Come on,” Tenny coaxed, voice going falsely bright. He made little kissing sounds, like he was trying to lure out a shy animal. “Have another go at me.”
Homecoming (Dartmoor Book 8) Page 12
