Suddenly he realized that he’d left Avery to go outside in the dark by herself.
He ran down the stairs four by four and barged out of the front door into the pouring rain.
He stood, watching as she opened her door and got in. He swore she looked at him as she started the engine. He took a couple of steps toward her, but she turned away.
Rubber squealed on the road as Avery jumped on the gas.
He watched her leave.
His mother opened the door. “We need to talk,” she said.
“Yeah. I’ve got a lot to say,” he said.
It was time to tell her his escape plan.
Chapter Thirty
By the time Avery opened her front door, everything was normal again—at least, it sounded normal. Colin was in the den watching a loud football game, and her father was at the dining room table, on his laptop, with his phone pinned to his ear.
“Nope. Five p.m. in the conference room. Thanks, Bob.”
Avery crept up the stairs slowly, watching as her father speed dialed someone else. “You’ve heard already? Sure. It does look bad, Matty. Just come to the meeting tomorrow at five p.m. The conference room. Thanks.” As she rounded the corner of the stairs, she saw what was on her dad’s laptop: the footage of Lucas from Brady’s Balls.
If they were having an emergency school meeting, it had to be bad.
She closed the door to her room quietly and flung herself on the bed. Why hadn’t she just told her father what Mr. Duchamp had said? She sat up. No. She still couldn’t have.
But still. Everything that was about to happen was down to her. Well, her and Lucas. Mainly Lucas. Okay, really, it was just Lucas.
And then she remembered the tornado and how he’d pushed her under the shelving unit so nothing could fall on her. And how he’d just held her all night after the game. And how he always gave her space when he felt the tiniest bit of resistance in her. How he’d shown up with a replacement planner last night.
No. No. No. I’m not going soft.
This was his fault. And just because he had some redeeming qualities, it didn’t mean he was any less at fault. There was no way he was going to weasel his way out of this one.
Taking a deep breath, she lay back on her bed.
She couldn’t stop thinking about Lucas. Why wouldn’t her brain switch off or at least just let the images of him pulling a weird face or having boogers or bad hair flash by? Why was her own brain torturing her? Why was she only remembering the times he kissed her or made her laugh or looked at her with that expression…
She grabbed her pillow and hugged it to her stomach, as if it would take the churning emptiness away. He’d lied to her. He’d lied to everyone she cared about.
And that was that.
She needed a new planner, one that didn’t have his name in it.
Maybe that’s why hers had blown away.
Chapter Thirty-One
On Monday, Lucas left the house with his sports bag slung around his back. He’d done the last of his laundry and packed before sleeping. He’d boxed up everything he couldn’t or didn’t want to take, so that if his mom decided to leave or get a one-bedroom apartment, she wouldn’t have to clear his stuff up.
Lucas shifted his bag onto his other shoulder. In his hand was a package for Avery. He didn’t want to email her or text her. Both those options said “stay in contact,” and he didn’t want to do that. He wanted her to forget him. So he’d written a letter. A letter that explained everything. Everything from his tattoo, to his move across state, to his name change, to his feelings about her. Okay, his love for her. If he thought for a second that staying in town would be better for Avery, he’d have done it in a heartbeat.
But it wasn’t. He was a fucking disaster to anything that stepped too close to him.
Along with the letter was a gift. He’d hoped to surprise her with it one day next week. He’d imagined that they’d be in Sonic again, and he’d pass it over the table to her. But they didn’t have a next week anymore. They didn’t have anything.
And so he was leaving. Walking out of town. Letting his mom just worry about herself until he could send money back to her. He’d looked online and knew a concrete plant about 150 miles away was looking for manual labor, and a few places to the east advertised for casual labor. All the time he’d put in the gym over the past few years made him qualified for stuff like that. He planned on showing up tomorrow morning and asking for a job. At least hitchhiking wasn’t an issue. For a lot of people in the area, it was the only way to get places.
He had one thing he absolutely had to do that day, and that was keeping his arranged meeting with Coach. Sure, he already knew who Lucas Westman was, but Lucas needed to face the music, take what was coming to him like a man. He needed to own up to this mess and just lay it out there so he could leave Hillside with if not a clear conscience, then a feeling that he may have eventually done the right, selfless thing.
For once.
He paused as he walked past Hardy’s Hardware. The kindness of Avery and Mr. Hardy to give him a chance at a life in Hillside almost choked him. He clenched his fist and forced himself to keep walking to the school.
He bypassed the parking lot where most of the students had already parked and gone inside and skirted around the back to the football field. The gates were unlocked, and Coach’s Toyota was outside. God, it had been a matter of weeks since he’d got into that car for the first time and met Avery.
Inside the gates, there were netted bags full of footballs, laid out every ten yards or so along the touch line. Lucas sat on the lowest bleacher and placed his bag next to him. He heard scuffling in the tunnel that led to the changing rooms. Coach emerged into the morning sun dragging two more nets.
Lucas’s impulse was to jump up and help, but he hesitated, not wanting to seem as if he was currying favor. Because he wasn’t. He didn’t want any favor. Any concession.
Coach stopped dead when he saw him and paused for a few seconds before dragging the balls in front of him. He threw them down with a little more vehemence than perhaps was called for. Lucas jumped up.
“Do not tell me you think you’re playing,” Coach said, eyeing Lucas’s bag.
And right at that moment, Lucas felt free. He could do this. He wasn’t going to die coming clean. He wasn’t embarrassed, because nothing he could say could possibly embarrass him at his core more than he already was. He stood and bit back a half smile. “No, sir. I’m just here to apologize.”
Coach looked mildly surprised. “Go on then.”
“I’m really sorry that I risked your team and the other students’ hopes and dreams. I did all that because I was selfish. And I really do apologize for that.”
Coach watched him as if he expected him to say more, but Lucas really had nothing else to say. If he explained any part of his sorry story, he would feel like he was making excuses. When Coach stayed silent, Lucas grabbed his bag. “Thank you for your time, sir.”
Coach sighed. “Okay. Sit down.”
Lucas sat out of habit, but his gaze still went involuntarily to the exit.
“Tell me what happened at your old high school,” Coach said.
He looked out at the football field, glistening green in the sun. He didn’t want to go through this story again, but he probably owed Coach an answer. Where should he start? “I guess it started in middle school,” Lucas said, still not looking him in the eye.
“What did?”
“MFU did. When I was fourteen, they started giving me things to help me train. Weights, resistance bands, small stuff. It was always this local guy who used to play at that college. He took me to watch them play; he bought me groceries to make smoothies with, bought us a blender.” Lucas shrugged, feeling uncomfortable revealing how stupid he had been.
Coach sat down and stared out at the field. “Where was your
mother?”
A trickle of anger flared in Lucas. He stood up and grabbed his bag again. “This is not her fault. This has nothing to do with her.” He wasn’t going to stand for that.
“Sit. Down,” Coach growled.
Lucas took a breath and sat. “She was working eighteen hours a day. Had been since my dad left. She worked at a store and was trying to study, too.”
“It must have been hard,” Coach said.
“It wasn’t, really. I mean, it was, but my whole neighborhood was filled with families doing the same. So it felt normal, I suppose.”
“Then what happened?”
“I got to high school, and they gave me a computer—so I could download and watch their games—and then a car so I could drive to watch their games, and a membership to the gym. Mom was able to cut back on her hours, get her hair cut…”
He stopped talking, worried that he would start fucking blubbing in front of Coach. A tear trickled down his face. His mom had been so happy until the day their whole world came tumbling down.
He swiped at his tear. “Anyway, by then, I knew that there was something wrong with them giving us so much stuff. But I took it anyway. I thought because it didn’t come from the school itself—all the gifts came from people who went to MSU decades ago—that it didn’t count.” Lucas gave a half laugh. “I was wrong.”
“Tough break.”
“No. It was wrong. I know that,” Lucas said.
“And MFU paid a fine?”
“Yup. A million bucks.”
“And you were blackballed.”
“A player who essentially cheats can’t play on any school team. That’s the way it goes. That’s the way the board sees it. Again—I apologize. I just wanted a chance to play again. But I realized my happiness shouldn’t be at the expense of anyone else’s.”
Coach got up. “Is there anything else you wanted to tell me?”
Lucas stood, too. “No, sir.”
“Why did you call to make this appointment to see me last night?” he asked.
“To tell you this.” He gestured to where they’d both been sitting. “I didn’t know Avery had been in contact with anyone about me. And that’s my fault, too. I overreacted to something she did and…” God, he just needed to go. He couldn’t keep rehashing every terrible thing that had happened. He was tired from everything. “It wasn’t her fault. Here.” He dug in the pocket of his kit bag and pulled out a large, bulky envelope with Avery’s name Sharpied on to the front. “Can you give this to Avery?”
Coach hesitated, looking at it.
“I’m leaving. It’s just an apology.”
Coach took the letter, and still looking at it, he said, “There’s a meeting in an hour or so to discuss this whole situation. Do you want me to call you with the decision?”
Lucas hefted his bag onto his shoulder. “No need. I’m heading out to…” He didn’t want to tell him where he was going, because he didn’t want anyone from Hillside to find him again. “I’m heading out.”
“All right, son. Good luck.” He held out his hand and shook Lucas’s.
Lucas took a deep breath and walked slowly to the gates that he came in, sneaking one last look around the field, his gaze lingering again on the tunnel. His heart would never be the same.
“Don’t forget the Hammers’ number one rule,” Coach’s voice echoed behind him.
Lucas didn’t look back; he just raised his hand and exited the field and then the school, and then headed out to the 10, where he figured he could get a ride.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The meeting started late. Not only were the members of the school athletics committee there, but the football team and a bunch of people from the town. And when she said bunch, she meant nearly everyone. There were so many people there that they had to move it from the conference room into the gym. Lexi and Avery huddled at the back, not wanting to miss anything, but also not wanting to be ejected, either. They really had no reason to be there, except Avery had figured that this was the one place she might understand what Lucas had done.
As the crowd were mostly still standing, LeVonn got up from his seat at the front and sidled past the other players he was sitting with to make his way to them.
“Hey,” he said as he leaned against the wall next to Lexi. “You know what this is about?”
Lexi looked at LeVonn and then looked at Avery and back to LeVonn. “We’re going to find out just how much of a douche canoe Lucas Black is.”
“What? He’s cool, man.”
“He is not cool,” Lexi hissed at him.
LeVonn looked at her and shook his head. “When you were virtually passed out by the pool, he came back and insisted on knowing if you were safe with us.”
“He did what? He thought I wouldn’t be safe with you both? That’s funny.” And then she looked at Avery and pulled a face. “That’s also, like, really sweet. Remind me that I’m hating on him right now.”
But Avery couldn’t formulate the words. How could he be the good guy she’d always seen and yet also be the guy who lied and put playing football above anyone else’s dreams or needs? She covered her face with her hand, pretending to scratch the side of her forehead. She didn’t know how her face was reacting to the news, and she was still trying to process everything.
“Here we go,” Lexi said, nudging LeVonn and nodding to the front where Principal Wilson and the athletic directors had entered the gym.
The principal brought the meeting to order, looking disapprovingly at the extra people who were in the meeting. “We’re here to discuss a player—Lucas Westman—and his impact on the Hammers.”
There was a rumbling around the room as people wondered who Lucas Westman was. Avery closed her eyes. None of this was going to go well. She was here for closure. That was all.
“I’m sorry. We know him as Lucas Black,” the principal said evenly. “Lucas Westman was banned from playing on any high school football team for three years, back in Henderson, east Texas. He came here, under an assumed name, and played for the Hammers.”
The football team seated at the front just stared at one another.
“Obviously, this has put the whole season under peril for us, and we’re here to discuss what our next action should be.”
Mr. Duchamp stood up. “I’d like to table a motion.”
“This isn’t that kind of meeting,” Mr. Wilson said, looking along the top table. “But okay—what’s your motion?”
“I move that Coach Stone steps down, and we replace him with Billy Seymore, here.” He put his hand on the shoulder of the guy sitting beside him.
LeVonn frowned. “What?”
Avery shuddered. She’d done this. Everything she’d tried to do had just failed spectacularly.
“I think it’ll be enough to demonstrate to the conference chairman that we take our failings seriously and that we’re prepared to take drastic action to keep the Hammers working to the playoffs. Do I have someone to second my motion?” Mr. Duchamp said.
There was silence, and her dad dipped his head down with what looked like a smile on his face. What was going on? His job was on the line, and he was smiling? Avery stepped forward to hear better. Or just to understand better.
Lexi and LeVonn stepped forward, too, glancing at her, not really understanding, but standing with her. Lucas didn’t have someone that would stand with him no matter what. In that second, she really understood how lucky she was. Like, really lucky. Yes, she had problems, but she had friends who would stand with her no matter what she did.
“Coach Stone. Is there anything you’d like to say about this situation?” the principal said.
Her dad stood up on the dais. “I have a few things to say, yes. I’ve spoken to the commissioner and the conference chairman, and they both say that the Hammers won’t be expelled for this, since it’s reasona
ble to assume that we didn’t know who he was.”
Avery didn’t understand. She can’t imagine how her father had got them to say that, because playing a banned athlete was usually an open and shut case. Except, she guessed, no one knew he was banned.
“I spoke to Black’s previous coach at length. He thought that Lucas’s punishment was way over the top, especially for a kid.” He held his hands up as people started to talk. “I know. Rules are there for a reason, and when I spoke to Lucas this morning, he apologized and didn’t try to offer any excuse. He took complete responsibility for what he’d done.”
Avery frowned. Lucas had gone to see her dad?
“But let’s not kid ourselves here. He was a victim of a predatory university with the funds to buy its way out of trouble. His coach should have done much better to protect him, because that’s what coaches are supposed to do. Not just watch out for the players when they’re on the field, but watch out for them off the field, too. And he didn’t—he admitted as much. That’s not what we do here. Hillside is better than that.”
The whole place was silent.
“The coaches and teachers in our school know about our kids. We know when they’re struggling. We know when they’re upset, happy. We know when they’re driving around town in a brand new car. We know when a kid is close to failing Calc.” He raised his eyebrows and looked at Avery.
She pulled a face and looked away. Lexi giggled.
“Lucas Black was let down by his coach, his school, and his town. And I think he’d be the first to admit that he let himself down, too.”
Mr. Duchamp stood again. “That’s all very well. But it’s my money that keeps the athletics program open at Hillside High, so I think I should have a say in the direction the Hammers take.”
Mrs. Diaz stood up. “I think I’d rather know my kid was being looked after at school than have new fancy hand dryers in the locker rooms, to be honest.” She sat down again, studiously ignoring the look that Mr. Duchamp gave her.
The Love Playbook Page 22
