by Jean Oram
As Ryan moved along the sidelines toward the opposing team he spotted Carly standing near her stats chair, wearing the same red, white and denim outfit as Jackie. Like a superstition, they’d worn it for each of the playoff games.
Ryan inhaled again, steadying himself. He’d told Carly he loved her, and she’d said it back. He’d fumbled the ball with his awkward words, but she’d caught it, made the touchdown.
He was in love.
He shook his head, marveling that after all the potholes he’d hit so far in his life he should suddenly seem to have it all. He and Carly were solid. They were independent, but also together. So perfect.
She had game nerves, though. He’d felt the shift in her on the bus ride over. He couldn’t blame her, as he knew how unnerving today could be.
Carly was talking to a slight-figured person wearing the opposing team’s colors, Carly’s face lit up in a large smile. She was beautiful, and at one point she reached out to touch the person in the coaching jacket as she laughed, obviously happy to be where she was. The coach had a ponytail, her back to Ryan.
Based on his research, this team had male coaches and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, and that there was something familiar about the woman Carly was chatting with. Female coaches weren’t common in football, and he tried to place where he may have seen her. Maybe during last year’s playoffs, when they’d battled teams from other areas of Texas?
Ryan readied his smile as he approached the duo, weaving among the players already gathered on the sidelines. Carly caught his eye and her grin grew a little larger, a little happier, and made him feel special. He was her number one, even with that lingering haunted look in her gaze. One he planned to put to rest right here and now with a giant kiss.
He picked up his pace, glancing left as movement caught his attention. He faltered. Myles was staring at Carly and the coach, his expression closed, his mouth pressed into an uncharacteristically stern line. Ryan, a few feet from the women, heard a laugh he would know anywhere. It was high, a tinkling sound tainted by a hint of condescension, and it cut through him as if the woman was saying, “Can you believe it? How pathetic!”
His blood ran cold, and he found himself rooted to the fake turf under his shoes.
“Here’s our coach,” Carly said brightly, her arm extended toward him.
As the opposing coach turned to face Ryan, he gave a quick prayer, wishing for a trick of the stadium’s sound and lighting that would prove his new girlfriend had not in fact been chumming it up with his ex-wife.
Carly’s hand froze in the air, her cheerful wave to Ryan aborted as she caught sight of his expression. He was like a poster boy for shock and disbelief, almost looking like a caricature of himself. She watched as he fought for control, smoothing his features. But in his eyes fear was mixed with rage and indignation, and she involuntarily took a step back. Had he heard she was leaving immediately after the game?
She’d planned to tell him when it wouldn’t disrupt his mental preparation, but had she inadvertently blindsided him instead? They hadn’t had time to build on their newly proclaimed love, and she’d already ruined things with one of her patent bad decisions.
As Ryan marched forward, he seemed to recover, anger his predominant emotion. There was something triumphant and calculating in Coach Tyblone’s gaze, and Carly realized that whatever was going on with Ryan wasn’t about her Montana court date.
Coach Tyblone had straightened her shoulders and her voice was cool and even when she said, “Hello, Ryan.”
“Your name is not on the roster,” he replied, his tone sharp.
“Checking up on the other teams, are you? Afraid you might lose something?” Her emphasis on the word lose set Carly’s heart pounding.
“There is nothing you can take from me that I can’t replace.”
“I love a bitter, simple man.”
“I don’t think you understand the definition of that four-letter L-word. Is it new to your vocabulary?”
Carly felt the sting of Ryan’s intent, but the woman simply watched him, calculating her next move.
“You can’t be on the field without your name being on the roster,” Ryan announced. He craned his neck, on the lookout for an official.
Myles had edged closer, seeming larger than usual as he stood behind Ryan. It was as though he was acting as a bodyguard, and Carly stepped closer to him.
“Actually, I belong here,” Coach Tyblone said sweetly. “They listed me as a backup on the team’s paperwork. I’ve been working with these guys all season. But as you know, you can have only so many people on the coaching roster. As team newbie, I wasn’t going to be on the field. But our head coach is having medical issues, so here I am.”
“Did you cause the issue?”
The woman let out what could best be described as a mean girl laugh. Carly gaped at her about-face. Mere moments ago she had been friendly and effusive.
Carly said hoarsely to Ryan, “We should go.”
“Aw. No more insider secrets from you?” the woman said sweetly.
Ryan’s nostrils flared as he stared at Carly, and she opened and closed her mouth, unable to force out any words. She hadn’t said a single thing to jeopardize her team or Ryan, and never would.
“It was such a pleasure getting to know Ryan’s latest fling,” Coach Tyblone said with an innocent bat of her lashes, before turning away.
Carly’s anger rode to the top of a wave before it came crashing down, her mouth opening to speak. Myles gripped her arm, whispering, “Don’t.” He bodily pulled her and Ryan away, sending Tyblone into what appeared to be near ecstasy when she turned to observe the effect of her visit.
“She’ll get you two ejected for foul language,” Myles warned, as he practically strong-armed them to the other end of their zone. “She’ll see to it, and the team needs you both.”
Ryan was so pale he could have passed for anemic.
“What did you tell Priscilla?” he demanded, glaring at Carly.
She gasped and caught herself turning back for another glance. That was Priscilla? How had Ryan ever been charmed by that evil, two-faced beast?
The same way she just had. The woman had been confident and gregarious, making Carly laugh. But in hindsight, Carly realized she’d been picking her over through the entire conversation. She’d been familiar with both Ryan and “that cute tiny town of Sweetbutt Creek” as she’d called it. She’d made a point of flashing her ridiculously large ring a few times, and now that Carly knew who she was, she wanted to storm over there and rip it off her finger and pawn it on Ryan’s behalf. Was it his money that had her all glitzed up? Or had she found a fresh mark and was taking him for all he was worth?
“What did you tell her?” Ryan repeated.
Carly’s hands flew up. “Nothing!”
“I swear I’ll strangle that woman,” he muttered as Jackie jogged up to them.
“Oh, goody! Did I hear we’re planning a murder? I’m delightfully brilliant at hiding bodies. I can totally make it look like an accident. Who are we putting the hit on?”
Myles, his Mediterranean-blue eyes stormy, gritted out, “Not now, Jackie.”
“Well, obviously not now.” She rolled her eyes, then caught Ryan’s expression, her jovial mood vanishing. “Priscilla!” she hissed.
Ryan whirled as Jackie’s gaze cut to Carly’s, then back to him. “You knew she was going to be here?” he demanded.
Jackie inhaled so sharply her nostrils fluttered. “I’m right, aren’t I? Is she on the field? Where is she?” She spun in a circle. “I’ll kill her myself to keep y’all out of jail.” She pushed up the sleeves of her sweatshirt and widened her stance. “Right here, right now. It’ll be worth the jail time to put that woman in an early grave.”
Myles took Jackie’s elbow, murmuring, “No murder today, Little Satan. Ryan and I need you and Carly to feed us everything you see out there today.”
“Oh. Little Satan.” She brightened, giving him a
radiant grin. “I like that. Can I get it stitched on the back of my shirt?” She dropped a shoulder and looked over it, checking the back.
Ryan was still shooting daggers, cannons and missiles in Priscilla’s direction, and Carly tentatively approached him, mulling over the things she could say to reassure him she had done nothing wrong. No secrets spilled. No insights given. But everything she thought to say sounded like guilt, guilt, guilt.
Myles gave Ryan a worried glance, then said to the women, “I need you at your best, spotting things we don’t. You hear? If you see something we need to know, tell us right away. Not in five minutes. Immediately.”
Both of them nodded.
Ryan’s attention had turned to Carly, and he was watching her with such an intense focus it made her want to sidestep, like a horse avoiding the saddle. Take-charge-angry Ryan was sexy, but angry-at-everything Ryan was scary. She swallowed hard, then reached to hook her fingers around his arm, to let him know she was there for whatever he needed.
He avoided her touch, storming off toward the team and leaving Carly with a sharp pain in her chest. He made it five paces before he turned, his eyes filled with determination.
He asked Myles, “Where are the extra headsets?”
“The headsets?”
“Get these ladies hooked up so they can talk to us.”
“But you said you don’t want extra voices in your ear.” Myles’s eyes cut to Jackie.
“What?” she asked innocently.
“There’s no way we’re going home defeated. Not today.” Ryan’s gaze met Carly’s, and she felt the unspoken warning—he would win, even if he suspected she might no longer be on his side.
11
Ryan couldn’t stop pacing the edge of the field. He hadn’t heard from Carly or Jackie in minutes.
“What have you got for me?” he asked through his headset.
“Nothing new,” Carly said, her voice calm and smooth.
He covered his microphone and muttered to Myles, “How can they not have anything? It’s a disaster out there.”
“We’re ahead by a touchdown,” Myles replied. They’d switched roles again, and Ryan much preferred being chilled out. Being jacked up like this wasn’t fun.
“We need to win.” He needed to show Priscilla she hadn’t defeated him. He was better off without her and living his best life, her ultimate impact on him nil.
As much as he tried to avoid it, he peered down the sidelines, trying to catch sight of his ex. What was she doing? She hadn’t been a coach six years ago, merely an avid fan who’d always claimed she could do better than the professional coaches on TV. He’d thought it was cute at the time, but now he wondered if she’d been right, seeing as she’d made it this far without him hearing about it. Then again, she wasn’t the team’s head coach, just an alternate. An assistant.
Still, he couldn’t underestimate her.
She’d known he would be here.
But she wasn’t getting in his head this time. He would not be vulnerable and lose.
Carly.
He’d told her he loved her, and practically the next minute she’d been laughing it up with Priscilla.
His heart rate ratcheted up a few beats, and he reminded himself to breathe. Carly was on his side. She’d feed him intel that would lead to victory. Her laughing with Priscilla had been nothing but a coincidence. He wouldn’t allow his ex to unsettle him like she’d undoubtedly planned.
This time he would win.
“Carly, Jackie,” he said into his microphone. “What do you have for me?”
“Nothing since two minutes ago,” Jackie said, her tone dry. “Can we give you back the headsets? I don’t like it as much as I thought I would.”
He could hear Carly hush her, then say, “They’re playing well, Ryan. Jackie, keep an eye on Wiggins.”
“For what?” Ryan asked, his eyes tracking the player in question. Anything he missed out on the field today would come back to haunt him in the coming months as the citizens of Sweetheart Creek picked apart the game, analyzing his abilities and decisions as a coach. Some days he felt as though it was as much of a sport as the game itself.
“He’s being blocked a lot.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. I need a win, girls.”
“We’re not girls,” Jackie protested.
“Number 55 is favoring his right leg,” Carly interjected, her voice full of triumph.
Ryan found him and confirmed what she’d seen. “Pull him,” he told Myles.
His brother gave him a surprised look. “Pull him? Jackson’s our best—”
“Get him checked. We can’t handle a single mistake right now.”
“I think this is a mistake.” Myles folded his arms across his wide chest. The other day he’d mentioned he could bench 250. Ryan had a fleeting image of his brother bench-pressing him right out of the stadium for his uncharacteristic behavior, before he shook it off. This was Myles, his right hand. He’d be here through thick and thin, taking Ryan’s mood in stride, as always.
“Are you the head coach or am I?” he asked, his voice low, but hard enough to show he meant business. “This isn’t the time for questions. It’s time to act, act, act.”
Myles’s cheeks puffed out. “Fine.” He made the substitution.
Hernandez threw the ball and Jackson’s replacement missed the pass by six feet.
“He’s not warmed up!” Ryan exclaimed. Myles stared at him as though he’d turned into a monster. “Well? Do something!”
The players on the sidelines were supposed to always be moving, keeping their muscles warm. He turned and barked at the ones milling along the edges. “You want in this game? Jumping jacks, push-ups. I can’t put you in cold.” He gestured to Jackson. “What’s with the leg?”
“It’s fine, Coach. Just a small tweak. I walked it off.” He took a few steps, showing he had no problems.
“Then what are you doing here? Get out there!” He turned to Myles. “Put him back in.”
Myles made the trade and Ryan snapped, “What’s Wiggins doing?” He was waving at the spectators, while waiting for the next play to begin. No wonder he was getting blocked; he was dazzled by the crowd and not focusing. “Pull him. Tell him to get his head in the game.”
Ryan paced, shoulders hunched. How had this game gotten so out of hand? How had he not known Priscilla was coaching? And what had Carly and Priscilla been laughing about?
Laughing. Reaching out and touching each other like they were friends.
And now Carly wasn’t giving him anything helpful from the sidelines.
No. She wasn’t in cahoots with his ex. He didn’t need to worry about someone tainting the well. He and Carly were good, were solid.
He forced himself to be calm as he asked, “What do you see out there, Carly?”
“You’re making a lot of subs.”
He inhaled, ignoring the way Myles was looking at him, lips twisted in amusement.
“Who’s hot out there?” he asked.
“Ask your quarterback,” she replied tersely, her tone setting him off again.
“Fine. I will.” He ground his teeth, muttering to Myles, “Why did I put headsets on them?” Nobody was feeding him anything useful, and he needed this win. He needed it more than any other in his life.
“Hey.” Myles gave him a nudge. “Halftime.”
Ryan ripped off his headset in frustration. As he walked toward the locker room, he realized that if he wanted to be victorious, he needed to do this the old-fashioned way. The independent Ryan way.
Carly remained in her spot as the team headed to the locker rooms for the halftime break. She knew Ryan was gruff because he was on edge, with so much weighing on him and this game. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to go up against your ex in such an important playoff.
Ryan was more intense as she’d ever seen him, making rash decisions, relying on her too much for some magic she didn’t possess. He was snapping at everyone, setting off chai
n reactions in his players.
She would have to wait until the end of the game to tell him she had to leave. Not ideal, but better than adding another weight on those strong shoulders of his.
“Don’t take it personally,” Jackie said, guessing Carly’s silence was due to hurt feelings. “He got like this last year, too. Well, not really. But a bit.”
Jackie’s gaze cut to where the other team had gathered on the edge of the field, not heading to the locker rooms. It was a show of confidence, a way to throw Ryan off kilter even further with a nonverbal statement that they didn’t need the break to rest, regroup or strategize.
Jackie tracked Carly’s gaze to the other team. “He needs you to put his head back on straight.”
“And how am I going to do that?”
“Kiss him.”
“I don’t think that’ll help.” She didn’t know how he might react to her moving into his physical space when he was this stressed out. His body language had suggested he’d been thrown off by how chummy she’d been with Priscilla. She’d fallen for the woman’s sly, smooth chitchat. As a result, she’d helped ruin Ryan’s flow state. She sighed at herself. When would she learn who to trust?
“We have to do something,” Jackie said, and Carly nodded in agreement. They’d been standing rather than sitting in their chairs along the sidelines, so they could see the plays better, and she pulled Carly toward the locker room.
“We can wait here,” she said, when they’d reached the closed doors. Carly had been about to push them open, but paused, wondering if her friend was afraid of Ryan’s mood. Normally at halftime they both marched into the locker room as if they owned it, knowing the players would be decent. Although, thanks to the headsets, there wasn’t much more to say about the game other than to encourage Ryan to chill out.
Maybe Carly could do that. Find some strategy that would defeat Priscilla and prove to Ryan she was on his side and always would be. Otherwise it might take him a while to come around and be rational, and allow his trust in her to override his shock and anger over his ex blindsiding him.
