In Time (Play On Book 2)

by Cd Brennan

  Brittany gestured at Rory. “That’s what the coach is for.”

  Grace let out a loud puff of air through her cheeks. “Just help, okay? We know you have loads more experience and you’ll be pulling the team’s weight for a while until the rest of us catch up, but we’ll be grateful and be your BFFs forever.”

  “And forevah mooooore,” Junette sang out, her arms out wide as she wiggled her boobs.

  The girls all laughed.

  He could see what Brittany meant. Irish had thought the men’s team was a joke. Wait until he saw Rory’s team. There wasn’t anything serious about this situation. None of them were taking it seriously. And if Brittany was so determined to put in her two pence, then she should have been coach. Lots of players coached club teams.

  But it seemed to have appeased Brittany, and wherever Brittany went, Jordyn and Claire seemed to follow. Rory asked them to spread out and showed them how to hold their arms to keep a regular distance between them. He explained how they wanted to keep that same space as they ran and passed, not to bunch up or spread out too thin.

  They listened as Rory led them in passing back and forth across the pitch twice. There wasn’t much they could do in regards to a scrum or a lineout, so he had them practice kicking. By the time all five of them had a go, an hour was up, and all of them looked tired. He was about ready to call practice early when Grace suggested they practice a jumper for the lineout. That was her favorite part of rugby, and she wanted to know how it was done.

  The tallest of them was Brittany, so he directed her to be the one to catch the ball at the lineout. Both Grace and Junette were petite so having them in the forward pack wasn’t a great idea. He chose Jordyn and Courtney to do the lifting. He showed them how to grab Brittany’s thighs, one on each side and lift with their legs, not their backs.

  It took them half a dozen times before they even got her in the air. The first time, Jordyn did it much faster than Courtney so she ended up lifting Brittany onto the new girl, both toppling sideways. The second try, all three fell backward when Brittany lost her balance. Rory asked Grace and Junette to stand by and spot, help break her fall.

  “Why is the tallest girl the jumper?” asked Junette. “You’d think it would be the smallest girl, like they do in cheerleading.”

  “Because she needs to be as tall as possible to win against the other jumper who will also be going up at the same time.”

  “Oh, so it’s not just your team trying to catch the ball?” Junette was honestly bemused.

  “Nope, there will be another line here”—Rory motioned with his a sweep of his arm—“of the other team. When the throw-out happens, you’ll both be going for the ball.”

  “Ohhhh…” But still a blank face on Junette. Grace whispered something in her ear, and Junette said back, “Cool, that would be good.”

  Rory clapped his hands. “Okay, ready? Let’s try again.”

  The third and fourth tries they couldn’t even get Brittany off the ground, their muscles fatigued, both girls grunting and groaning with the effort. “Brittany, you have to help by jumping, too,” Rory reminded her. “That’s why the position is called a jumper.”

  Each time they tried and failed there was a shit ton of laughter and teasing each other, but not once did they complain, nor did they berate each other. He liked that.

  They were successful the seventh go. Rory was counting. They didn’t keep Brittany up in the air for long, but at least she’d gone up straight, both girls lifting at the same time.

  Just then, Jenn waltzed up like she wasn’t over an hour late. “Hi, sorry I’m late.”

  Sure she was. But she was here. Rory was about to say something when Brittany beat him to it. “You can’t turn up on time like the rest of us?”

  Jenn smirked at her and shrugged. “I was otherwise engaged,” she said it in a flaunting manner as if they should understand what that engagement was. Rory could probably deduce but didn’t give a shit. Also seemed like there were too many coaches on this team and not enough players. He’d have to lay down the law.

  “Jenn, can you warm up first by jogging around the pitch and then meet us back here?”

  “Of course, Rory,” she purred and squeezed his arm.

  “We call him Coach,” Grace yelled at Jenn’s back as she jogged away.

  It was nice of Grace to defend him, but he needed to man up. “Aye, call me Coach,” he yelled. But she was already past the uprights and most likely didn’t hear him.

  This coaching wasn’t anything like he’d imagined. He’d envisioned a team of super motivated players executing each play in a fluid and correct manner. He could see it. A line of players out of the scrum, the scrum half tossing it back to the center, and then down the line perfectly until it went to the outside wing who ran the ball in for a try. The girls would huddle together in a giant hug to congratulate each other, but then would look to the sidelines, to him, Rory, and wave their acknowledgement of his superior guidance and coaching that had prompted their victory.

  “Um, Rory?” Grace’s voice.

  He snapped out of his reverie.

  “What do you want us to do now?”

  He wasn’t sure. He looked at his watch, but when he looked back at Grace to answer, her brow was pinched in anger. Right. Don’t look at watch. “How about we go inside to the locker room, and I’ll go over some plays on the board?”

  Reminder: next time don’t phrase instructions in question form. He was the coach. Dammit.

  “But I just got here,” Jenn whined. “I dressed up and everything to play on the field.”

  “Maybe if you got here on time, then you could’ve have ‘played’”—Brittany made quotes with her fingers—“on the field.”

  Rory would have said the same, but Brittany had beat him to it. Without another word, the girls gathered up their gear bags and followed Grace to the door of the locker room. When he approached, she said, “Do you have the keys?”

  Did he? Nope. Fuck. He hadn’t even thought of that. The locker room was just open every time he’d come to practice for the men’s. “Ah, that’s right. I don’t have it.”

  Groans from all the girls. Jordyn shifted her gear bag from one shoulder to the next. “Then why did you suggest we come in here to go over plays?”

  “Yeah,” a chorus from the other girls.

  “Men, seriously. You forge through life as if it is meant to be yours, no consideration of others.” Junette was digging around her bag for something. “Like we just wait around forever until you decide what you want.” She yanked out a sweatshirt and threw it over her head. “Maybe we should have a female coach, ya know…organized.”

  Rory took a step back. What the—? He was about to say something in defense when Grace shook her head at him, a barely-there twitch of her head. Okay, then. Grace tried to smooth things over with, “We could go to a coffee shop and do it there?”

  “Nah, I’ll go home if we are going to do that,” Junette said.

  “What about just piling into my SUV and we can watch with the heat on?” Brittany suggested.

  Feck, Rory couldn’t get a word in edgewise. The sun was setting, and the temperature had dropped while they stood there. Jordyn was shivering, and Jenn had inched over until she had cuddled up to Rory, her arm through his. Again. Grace looked none too pleased but didn’t say anything. He’d sort it with her later, or maybe she understood about Jenn. It was pretty obvious. At least to men.

  “I’ll call Coach and ask him if there is a spare key around here.”

  “Nah, don’t bother,” Hillary said.

  “Let’s just go home,” Courtney added.

  Only Grace defended him. “He might as well try since we are all here.”

  Junette jogged in place. “It’s too cold to just wait around here while you call.”

  “I’m out of here,” said Brittany.

  Without waiting for an official dismissal, the girls followed Brittany toward the gate that would lead to the parking lot. Even Jen
n slipped out of his arm and walked away. Only Grace stayed.

  Where was the respect? He’d never talk back to Coach like they did with him. He’d never question any of Coach’s decisions for the team. And here he was volunteering for this position, to help them out, to make them a great team. To teach them. To use his own time to do all that. For the love of rugby. To give back to rugby in some way. Just like Grace had suggested.

  “We still had a pretty good practice.”

  Rory sighed. “Maybe.”

  As if she understood what he was thinking, she said, “Respect has to be earned, not just because of the position you are in.”

  “I know.” All too well.

  “You just have to figure out how to draw the best from them.”

  “Yeah.” Rory looked down at Grace who was still following the girls leaving with her gaze. “You’re pretty smart for a Southern hick.”

  She gasped. “Don’t you dare!” Without warning, not even a war cry, she tackled him in the middle and took him to the ground where she tickled. And oh, it was painful. “And I’m not Southern, you buttface, I’m from Texas!” She pinned his arms with her legs and sat on his chest. Her crotch was in his face so he looked up to the sky. But she took full advantage of his exposed neck and tickled him there. Which was worse. He pried her hands away.

  With a smirk she said, “I think we’ve been here before, Rory.”

  This time he didn’t mind one bit.

  “I still don’t know what that was all about. No one does. Everyone still talks about it.”

  Rory thunked his head to the ground. “It’s not anyone’s business.”

  “Can it be my business?”

  “Why would you want that?”

  “So we can look after each other. Friends. Roomies. Perhaps even potential hunting partners.”

  He laughed. “Hunting partners sounds serious.”

  “Well, if y’all play your cards right, you’ll be considered.” Her smile fell. “But seriously, do you want to talk about it? It’s been long enough.”

  He covered his face with his hands and then drew them back over his hair, where he held his arms over his head. “Not really.”

  She growled playfully. “C’mon, Rory.”

  He took a moment. He really didn’t want to talk about it, but he would for Grace. “Have you ever been so tired of something in your life, you want to explode?”

  “Uh, yeah, my diabetes.”

  “And you know how you are going crazy trying to get away from it?”

  “I wouldn’t call it going crazy…”

  “Well, some of the stuff you do is lunacy.”

  “Rory!”

  “It was the same with me. I internalize things.” He shrugged. “And it bottled up for twenty years until the other day.”

  Recognition glinted in her eyes. “When it first happened, Del said they’d been expecting it from you for a while.”

  “Aye, everyone seemed to get it but me. But I think I understand now.”

  She moved her knees off his arms and then tumbled to the ground beside him. They both lay looking at the sky, watching the clouds pass overhead. It was getting late, his body in goosebumps from the evening wind off the lake.

  “I think I do, too,” Grace said quietly.

  Chapter 18

  Where the hell was he? Grace rolled her neck to relieve the tension. She hated waiting. She tried to never be late.

  In fact, the only time she’d ever been late was her period the once. Thankfully, she hadn’t been pregnant. It was only a drunken one-night stand with one of her brother’s friends, JC, on a hunting trip. Her brothers still didn’t know, and JC wasn’t ever going to tell them. A dude doesn’t mess around with a friend’s baby sister.

  And why was she thinking about all this crap? That’s what happened when you stayed idle. Too much shit to dwell on. And she had Rory now.

  The Rory who had promised to pick her up after work so they could drive around and put up more flyers for the Lady Blues. Bluegill’s battery was dead again, and Del thought maybe it was her alternator. Great. Like she could afford to get a new one.

  They were going to hit the large supermarkets but also some of the smaller convenience stores in the old part of town where many of the college students lived. Just a few blocks down from their house.

  But Rory was now twenty minutes late.

  “Are you waiting for a ride, Grace?”

  “I am.”

  Mr. Gabriel had approached her from behind, quiet like the snake he was. The more she came to know him, which wasn’t much since he was a bit snooty and acted above the rest of the employees, the more she disliked the man. Woman’s instinct and nothing more, but enough at the same time. She’d been taught to always trust her gut by her momma and her daddy. Time and again, they told her, “Grace, if it feels wrong, then it is.”

  Did that work the same if it felt right? Rory felt right. But confusing.

  And Mr. Gabriel was still there standing beside her, which was also confusing. His coat was already on, briefcase in hand, but he stayed where he was instead of exiting to the parking lot. Go on, already.

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Grace.”

  Uh-oh. Those words never boded well. “Oh, really?”

  “There has been medicine taken from our cabinets. Specifically, insulin.”

  What? Adrenaline rushed her head until her ears buzzed. “I’m sorry to hear.”

  “Yes, well, someone reported seeing you near the cabinets, and we feel that you are a strong candidate for this theft.”

  “I didn’t—”

  He spoke over her. “It’s not just that. Staff have also mentioned you favor some residents over others.

  What. The. Hell? Grace’s heart raced. She already wasn’t feeling well because of her high blood sugar, then waiting here for ages for Rory had her blood pressure up, and now her blood was boiling at Mr. Dickhead’s words. There was no way she hadn’t given more than…eighty percent since the day she started.

  This was a bunch of bullshit, as her brother Ned would say. “I love my work, Mr. Gabriel, and I try hard every day.”

  At this point, he had the decency to look her in the face. “You’ve also had visitors while working and an overabundant number of personal phone calls. Unfortunately, we don’t think you are going to work out at Sunset Retirement Home.” Who was the “we” he was talking about? “And since you are still in your probationary period, the company does not need to give you three warnings before terminating your contract.”

  Oh, no. This was happening. Grace couldn’t say a word. She was numb.

  “So, effective immediately, your employment at Sunset is over.” With that, he stepped forward, keyed in the code, and the automatic doors slid open.

  What a prick! Grace’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. He’d just fired her between the sliding glass doors. Not even the decency to do so in his office. Not even a thank you. Her throat was tight, and even if it hadn’t been, she was at a loss for words. She desperately wanted to say something back to him before he got to his car, to defend herself, even if that meant yelling across the lot. But she was so agog with incredulity she couldn’t form any thoughts. That had been totally out of the blue. Completely unexpected.

  All this time, Grace had thought she was doing well. She’d tried hard, was to work on time, never late, never took longer breaks like some of the staff, never called in sick, even when she felt like crap with her blood sugar. She was polite and respectful to everyone, staff and residents. What the hell had just happened?

  Her disbelief turned to anger. Now she was mad as a hornet.

  And where the hell was Rory? If he drove up right now, she’d be the happiest person on this earth. Like a hero in a movie, he’d cruise in and swoop her up in his arms. Carry her away in his chariot, his reliable, although a bit bland, Ford Focus hatchback. After she gave out to him for being late, she’d unburden her sorrow onto him. He’d listen because he was a great listen
er.

  She was burning up with the mortification. She’d never been disciplined for a job in her entire life! Never. Not once. She’d been raised to be a strong, honest worker.

  Rory, where are you?

  Grace peeked her head out the doors to see if she’d missed him drive in while Mr. Dickhead had castigated her. It was cool out, but not biting cold by any means. In the last couple days, the weather had warmed to a pleasant Texas winter. Grace would never get over how Michigan summers were no warmer than Texas winters.

  Grace glanced at her watch again. Her head ached and she’d been going to the bathroom all morning, which was never a good sign. She checked her pulse. Fast, too fast. Ready to get the hell out of there, she wrapped her scarf around her neck. Where some folk in Traverse City were already wearing shorts, it wasn’t warm enough for her Texas blood to go anything less than full winter gear.

  Her last insulin shot was at home, and it didn’t look like Rory was coming. That sucked and broke her heart a bit. Tears stung the corner of her eyes, and her nose itched from the need to purge said tears. Where could he be? It wasn’t like he had a ton on his schedule. No job. Just gym time and rugby. And that pissed her off, her sadness shifting once again to anger.

  Well, screw him then. But how to get home… She lived a little over a mile away, not too bad. She considered asking one of her coworkers about the buses but that seemed too complicated, and a taxi way too expensive.

  She could walk it. It was kinda nice out in a dreary, windy, gray sort of way. Ah, Michigan, how she loved thee. But Michigan was Rory, so she’d stay.

  What if something had happened to him? A car accident? Or he got hit by a car while jogging? He always went out running. Or maybe weights had fallen on his foot at the gym, and he was at the hospital. But then he would have called her work here. It’s not like a broken foot would have kept him from using his phone.

  Grace couldn’t stay here any longer, not after getting her ass canned. She ducked outside quick-like and started speed-walking through the lot. She’d just follow the way home she took by car. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.