by Jean Oram
As they stood near the locker room door, voices filtered out. A private time-out between Myles and Ryan just on the other side, by the sounds of it. Carly looked at Jackie. But instead of moving away, her friend put a finger to her lips and leaned closer to eavesdrop.
Myles was talking. “Her being here doesn’t mean a thing. This is no different than any other game. You need to take it down a notch and be yourself. Be the coach we need.”
“I’m being a team player, and I’m using my best resources. Just like you’re always telling me to. And just like that course you took advises. I’m listening, but look what’s happening out there.”
“You’re making poor calls.”
There was silence.
“Then my team is feeding me worthless information. Why am I not getting useful info from my stats keepers?”
“Because our boys are playing well. Be proud of them.”
“What if…” Ryan hesitated and the women leaned closer to the door. “What if there’s a mole on our team? What if we’ve been infiltrated?”
“Infiltrated?” Jackie mouthed to Carly, who felt her jaw muscles slacken. He had really and truly become unhinged by Priscilla’s presence on the field.
“Ryan…” There was an edge of warning in Myles’s voice. “Ryan… don’t.”
Jackie clamped a hand over Carly’s arm, yanking her away from the door just as the men opened it, spotting them.
“Oh, hey!” Jackie said brightly. “Looking for us?” She pushed past Ryan despite the way he was barring the door with his body. Carly stayed where she was, frozen to the spot. She knew what he was thinking. He thought she’d magically appeared in his life at the right time, wriggled her way onto his team, fed him some good information and now was giving him nothing after chatting with Priscilla at the biggest game of the year.
Even Carly could see how that didn’t look good. It was too easy to leap to that assumption when the man was already tentative with his trust. But the team was truly playing well, and there wasn’t much new she could offer.
“We need to come up with a strategy,” she said, after clearing her throat. “A plan.”
Ryan held out his hand. “Give me your headset.”
Carly felt as though she’d been sucker punched.
“There are no more plans to make,” he said, when she didn’t react.
She pulled the device from where it was resting around her neck.
Jackie had returned to the doorway and was gaping at Ryan. “You’re gonna lose.”
Ryan’s expression hardened, and behind him Myles’s eyes fluttered shut as though he had an urge to leave and never come back. Carly understood how he felt. She’d been part of the team, and now that Ryan was facing his past demons, all the confidence they’d built up between them was suddenly worth nothing.
“It’s fine, Jackie. We have nothing new to add,” Carly said, her voice remaining neutral and calm despite the hurt she felt at Ryan’s lack of faith. She understood he was trying to pull it all back in because it felt like everything was imploding around him. She also understood that he needed her to be patient and rational right now, even though it was difficult. “If we see something in the second half, we’ll flag you down.”
She turned on her heel and marched back to her position, knowing it wasn’t likely Ryan would listen to anything she had to say. As it was, her timeline was tight for getting to the airport, especially dealing with postgame traffic around the stadium. But if she left prematurely, she knew her actions would confirm Ryan’s worst fears, and that was a risk she wasn’t willing to take. She inhaled a steadying breath and picked up the tablet, prepared to do the best job she could despite the situation.
The teams hit the field again and Carly kept her fingers crossed that everything would go quickly and smoothly.
Just as the game was about to start, there was a swell in the spectator noise. Carly looked up from the tablet cradled in her hands to see a horde of teenage boys, at least fifty of them, streaking across the field. They were painted in the opposing team’s colors, and wearing nothing but briefs.
She sagged into her chair as they ran, skittering this way and that as security guards flooded the field, trying to apprehend them.
Beside her, Jackie was killing herself laughing and the Torpedoes fell apart in a riot of hoots and hollers. Carly looked beyond her friend and caught the tension radiating off Ryan. A distraction like this was the last thing he needed when his sense of control was already razor thin.
The streakers continued running, delaying the game as they continuously outmaneuvered the guards.
“Can’t they just round them up already?” Carly asked impatiently. She checked the time, tension coiling inside her. She was either going to miss the end of the game or miss her flight.
She stared at the tablet, which was ready and waiting. Ryan hadn’t asked to see any stats at halftime, and she had a strong feeling he was curving inward, returning to his Mr. Independent persona for protection. He wasn’t going to ask for help. She could leave now, catch her flight with absolutely no impact on the game.
But if he turned because he needed her, and she wasn’t there…
Carly sighed, jiggled her leg and checked the time again. The game had been delayed by fifteen minutes already. Fifteen minutes she didn’t have.
She turned in her seat, saying to Jackie, “I’m going to have to leave before the game is over.”
“Why?”
They both inadvertently looked at Ryan.
“Don’t take him personally. This is a super intense day and having that woman here doesn’t help.” Jackie jabbed a thumb in Priscilla’s direction.
“I’m not taking him personally.” Although his tone and lack of faith had stung a lot more than she’d care to admit.
“He’ll still listen to us,” Jackie said without conviction.
Carly gestured helplessly at the last of the streakers, who were still avoiding the tired security guards.
“I heard Ryan say he loves you. Did he freak you out?”
Carly’s head snapped her way. “What?”
“I hear things.”
Carly frowned. They’d been on the opposite side of the bus, with nobody else around. Then again, she had just eavesdropped on Ryan and Myles with Jackie, so it wasn’t as if overhearing things wasn’t one of her friend’s habits.
“I know he’s tough to love, but he’s a good one.” There was a note of sadness in Jackie’s eyes. “He’s opened up to you so much. Please don’t leave because of his mood. He really cares about you.”
With her heart racing, Carly propped her fingertips together and lowered her forehead against them as the cab took her farther and farther from the stadium, from Ryan, from a game she wasn’t sure the Torpedoes would win. When she’d left there had been twenty minutes left on the clock and the score had been tied.
Why did she have to face her past mistakes in a court of law right now? Why not next week or the week after? She’d gladly give up Christmas in order to stand beside Ryan and prove she wasn’t like Priscilla, that she’d be there by his side through everything. Wins and losses. Whatever came their way.
She wanted to join Ryan on the ride home, rehash the game, talk about Priscilla, and add her energy to tonight’s welcome-home potluck in Sweetheart Creek. She wanted to be a part of it all. Instead, she was flying fifteen hundred miles away.
She texted Myles, knowing his phone was off and would be for at least an hour, postgame. “Tell Ryan I’m sorry I had to leave so suddenly. Please know it was an emergency. I’ll explain later. I hope you won.”
Her thumb hovered over Ryan’s contact information. She tapped it and formulated a message before giving up. There was so much to say, so much to reveal. He didn’t know what she was facing. He’d never let her in far enough to ask, or to let her explain.
It wasn’t just today that his trust had failed when it came to her; it had all along. They were like he’d said that day in the stable: two teams
of one making a team of two. But always still independent. Apart. Alone.
And he thought that was just great, and never wanted it to change.
She had believed it was, too, but she’d fallen into her old trap. She’d let him dictate the terms of their relationship. She’d believed it was enough, but it wasn’t.
She’d thought she’d changed and was stronger, but she was still making poor decisions, still not getting what she needed.
Carly pulled the gold wedding band from where she’d tucked it in her purse, then slid it onto her finger where it belonged as a reminder to remain true to herself and not be swayed by others.
“The game so bad you had to leave early?” the cab driver asked her, his tired eyes meeting hers in the rearview mirror.
“I have to catch a flight.”
“Bad timing,” he said.
She nodded when he looked back for confirmation.
Carly blinked back tears and focused on the nicked gold ring on her left hand. Ryan was still independent and a team of one. He’d told her he loved her, but instead of pulling her even closer today to fight through this together, he’d shut her out. He’d taken the first excuse to discount her and his faith in her.
With her throat tight with emotion, Carly reopened the text message to Ryan and typed, “I’m sorry.”
Ryan paced, arms tightly crossed, his head pounding from the effort of focusing.
Seventeen minutes on the clock. The score was tied, and the Torpedoes had possession. Now the officials had paused the game for no apparent reason, and had been conferring with the head of security for what Ryan felt was too long. The players were shifting nervously, milling near the sidelines. Ryan had already spoken to them about keeping their head in the game, staying warm and being ready for the play to continue.
“Ryan? Ryan!”
He turned to find Myles and an official standing beside him. Ryan’s gaze automatically cut to Priscilla, wondering what kind of underhanded trick she might be trying to pull. He hadn’t broken a single rule, and neither had any members of his team.
But an official was speaking to Priscilla as well. Her face was red, her gestures aggressive. Her team looked alarmed and Ryan shifted to face the official speaking to him, not quite ready to look away from the scene unfolding on his opponent’s sidelines.
“Coach Tyblone orchestrated a disturbance which led to an intentional delay of game,” the official was stating, his tone level.
He had Ryan’s attention now. “Say what?”
A resulting penalty this late in the game could cinch a win for the Torpedoes.
“You can play out the clock to determine a winner, or you may choose to accept her team’s forfeit. Either way, she is being ejected from the game.”
Ryan felt his jaw unhinge. He turned to see Priscilla being escorted out. She was uncharacteristically quiet, her gaze steadily kept on the ground in front of her as she was marched into one of the chutes that would send her into the parking lot.
“We choose their forfeit,” Myles said immediately.
Ryan was shaking his head, still wrapping his mind around the turn of events. “So you’re saying she was involved with the streakers?”
“The stadium’s security team received word during an interrogation that she paid the streakers,” he said. “We’ve confirmed payment.”
“So we can accept the team’s forfeit?” Myles said. “How does that work?”
“They take a time delay equivalent to the delay in game. That would end the game, declaring you a winner based on the current score.”
“Sounds good,” Myles said.
“What’s the alternative?” Ryan asked, ignoring the look of incredulity Myles shot him.
“Play out the clock. She’s removed from the game and you complete the championship with no head coach on the other team. Whomever wins takes the title.”
Ryan dipped his head, mulling over the choices. The momentum and energy was with his boys, not the other team. The Torpedoes had possession and were close to the end zone. Having their coach ejected would very likely negatively impact the other team. The Torpedoes could quite likely get a touchdown, then hold that score for seventeen minutes. They could win. Legitimately.
“It’s not guaranteed,” Myles said tightly, no doubt aware Ryan was seriously considering the option he’d already rejected. “Our boys deserve this.”
“Our boys deserve to feel they earned the win, not that it was handed to them on a technicality. We fight for this. We play out the clock.”
“I’ll take your decision to the other team,” the official stated, walking away.
Ryan nodded, confident in his decision. He still had Myles and Carly. They could fight for a true win. Sure, he was antsy and keyed up, and not the best listener but he could try. Try again to work as a team, something that would undoubtedly be easier without Priscilla smirking smugly from her sidelines and messing with his mind.
The game would no longer be about her. It would be about football.
And crushing her team and walking out of the stadium victorious.
“This is foolish.” Myles threw his hands up in frustration. “We were sure state champs, and now because of your pride or vendetta or whatever’s going on in your head it’s all up in the air again.”
“We’re going to play our hearts out until the last second on the clock. We’re going to earn those boys their scholarships. We’re going to get them noticed.”
Myles’s chest expanded as though he was struggling with patience. “Did you think to consult the rest of your team?” He gave one shake of his head, caught sight of them being broadcasted on the seventy-two foot tall screen above the field, and fumed off.
Ryan looked over his shoulder to confirm his decision with Carly and found her seat vacant. He scanned the area around her chair, then did a quick visual sweep of the sidelines.
He didn’t find her.
He caught Jackie’s gaze and she quickly looked away, causing his heart to plummet.
Carly was gone.
12
“What do you mean she left? To where? The bathroom? Leaving in the middle of the game is bullcrap and you know it.” Ryan could hear the edge in his own voice, saw its effect in how Jackie steeled herself. His words echoed down the concrete chute between the field and the locker room. The boys were inside, showering and getting changed. Elated for a win he felt they hadn't fully earned. The other team had fallen apart after having their stand-in coach ejected from the game. Sure, his boys had played hard, but it wasn’t the same as winning off a purely clean game without penalties and disturbances, where both teams were playing at their highest level. It was like someone had kicked the legs out from under the other team—a team of kids. It had been so bad, his boys could have won without any coaching.
And they’d won without their chief stats-taker.
He felt Myles’s presence as he came to stand beside him.
“She said she had to go,” Jackie explained. “I told her to stay, that you still needed us and that you’d give us back the headsets.”
Ryan fought for control over his thoughts. The timing of her leaving didn’t sit well. Priscilla had been busted, dragged off the field and suddenly Carly was gone from their sidelines without warning?
Carly and Priscilla’s laughter. The reaching out and touching of Priscilla’s arm in the pregame chat.
Ryan closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. He turned to Myles, muttering, “Why didn’t you say something about her?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. His brothers had acted like Carly was someone he could trust, and he’d been swept into that idea, but people who loved each other didn’t leave without saying goodbye.
The hurt made the win feel hollow. It felt like Priscilla had won again. He hadn’t seen her being here today, and hadn’t seen the game disturbance for what it had truly been. He also hadn’t seen Carly taking off on him.
He was lucky he wasn’t still married to Priscilla. She’d paid teenaged boys to h
elp her win today. And for what purpose? To defeat Ryan once more? She’d already won. Already stolen Ryan’s money and his trust.
And this time, Carly.
At least he hadn’t married her. He’d repeated falling in love with a woman who would leave him right when he thought things couldn’t get any better. What was wrong with his ability to learn this lesson about women?
“What are you mumbling about?” Myles asked.
He straightened. “What could be more important than being here?”
“Maybe you should have asked her.” Myles crossed his arms, the win not having softened his disagreement over the forfeit refusal. “Oh, right. You don’t ask people about what they want or think is best.”
“Okay, as fun as this sounds, I’m out of here. There are some folks in the parking lot who actually know how to celebrate,” Jackie said, striding away.
Carly had left without a word. It hadn’t even taken her twenty-four hours to turn around and abandon him and their relationship. Just like Priscilla.
No, Carly was different. There was no way she’d come fishing around, waiting for him to be at his most vulnerable so she could pull his entire world out from under him.
Still, he felt the hole in his gut, the desperation and loss. None of this made sense. Priscilla. Carly.
Not even the win made sense to him right now.
Myles had bunched his coaching jacket in his hands, pushing open the locker room door where loud shouts filtered out.
“Where are you going?” Ryan asked.
“I’m going to celebrate. You could try it, too.”
“What was that out there?” a man shouted. It was Davis Davies, Sweetheart Creek’s DJ. Ryan’s hand instinctively closed into a fist.
“Its called a win,” Myles said, letting the locker room door close again. He gestured to a security guard, who, in several quick steps, redirected Davis away from the closed area. “Y’all are lousy coaches! You could have lost us the game. You should have taken the forfeit, you egomaniacs.”
“We won,” Ryan said mildly, his jaw tight, his temples aching.
