The answer was that I couldn’t.
And could I really say that we had nothing to worry about when it came to Randy, that the justice system would prevail and the bad guys would lose and the good guys would win?
Because, realistically, what proof of that did we have anywhere?
If anything, the daily news only supported her side of it — that right and wrong didn’t always matter, and sometimes, good people got fucked over.
But, it wasn’t her views on what the right thing to do in this situation was that upset me the most. That wasn’t what drove the nail deeper and deeper into my splitting chest, making breathing damn near impossible.
It was that I came to her with something I hadn’t told anyone. I trusted her. And when everything was said and done, I looked her in the eyes and told her that I needed her.
I need you, Sydney.
And she’d denied me.
My ribcage hollowed out at the reminder of it, but it was a stinging pain I was beginning to get used to — like chronic back ache after a sports injury. I subdued it as best I could, focusing on the clipboard of plays in my hand as I talked to Coach TK in a hushed voice, our eyes on the players on the field.
It didn’t matter now, what had happened between Sydney and me.
It was over.
We were over.
And maybe what hurt the most was that we had never really begun, at all.
I wished so badly to live in this moment that — before Sydney — had been all I could dream about. I was at the State Championship game. My boys were warming up on the green turf of Tucker Stadium at Texas Tech. We were about to play the other top high school team in the state of Tennessee, to have the chance to prove that we were the best. The massive arena was filled with screaming football fans, with our entire town, everyone showing up to support us and cheer us on to another W.
This was all I’d wanted.
Until Sydney.
I felt her warmth even when she was on the complete opposite side of the benches from where I stood — which was where she aimed to be at all times, it seemed. She was keeping her head down, working on players, wrapping and taping and doing soft tissue work and ensuring we were ready to play.
“Time to get focused, Coach,” Elijah Braxton said from behind me, clapping me on the shoulder with a knowing look, like he could see I was a mess.
We’d been allowed to bring more people onto the field than we needed, and he’d been one of the fans we’d invited to be on the sideline with us. He was helping in whatever ways he could, getting water for the guys and helping run warm-ups, but for the most part, he stayed out of the way, watching.
And when he looked at me, looked at Sydney, and then gave me a knowing, sympathetic smile — my heart burned like a dying star.
I glanced at Sydney then, and our eyes met for one brief second before I jogged out onto the field for the coin toss.
In that one moment, we seemed to say a thousand things.
But I couldn’t understand a single one of them.
I heard Eli’s words like bell tolls in my ears when the coin was tossed and our players lined the field for kickoff. And with all the effort I had left, I shoved everything out of my head that wasn’t football. It was a skill I’d practiced and perfected when I was younger, when Dad had died and I was trying to figure out how to take care of Mom and be there for my brothers and somehow still get my career as a coach off the ground, too.
It was a numb state of mind, one that felt like I was floating underwater, or like being tethered to the Earth but suspended in outer space.
Somehow, I slipped back into that zone for the next hour and a half, and I didn’t emerge from it again until we were jogging into the locker room at halftime.
We were down by a touchdown.
I had to figure out a way to get my boys back on track, to get them fired up, to get this win.
So, I put on my game face and walked into a silent locker room with all eyes on me, waiting.
It was when I locked gazes with a pair of almond brown ones that I found the strength to speak.
Sydney
If I looked at the facts alone, I was still alive.
I was still breathing, inhaling oxygen and exhaling carbon dioxide, and it had been like that all week long. I was still waking up each morning — though I wasn’t sure it counted as waking up if I hadn’t ever fallen asleep — and I was still getting Paige ready for school, and going to work, and coming home, and making dinner, and hanging out with her until bedtime, and then climbing into bed myself just to do it all over again.
I was showing up.
I was holding it together.
I was alive.
Those were the facts.
But if I broke it down to the molecular level, it was all a lie.
No one saw the tears I drowned in every time I took a shower, but that didn’t mean they didn’t happen. No one saw the hollowness I felt in my chest, or the ache that ripped through me as my heart broke every time I laid eyes on Jordan — but they were there, regardless.
My past had trained me to put on a warrior face, to stand tall and strong no matter what, and I was doing just that.
But inside, I was crumbling.
The week I’d spent without Jordan since that wedding had been nothing but a numb blur of daily tasks and motions that convinced me I was going to be okay. I told myself that the more time that passed, the less it would hurt, and one day, it wouldn’t hurt at all.
That felt like a lie, too.
To his credit, Jordan hadn’t reached out to me. He hadn’t texted me or called me or asked for anything from me at all. It was the right thing to do — a clean break.
But it was the last thing I wanted.
Every time he walked into his office, I wanted to walk in right behind him, shut the door, and leap into his arms. Every time I stood next to him on the field, I wanted to lace my fingers with his, tell him I was sorry, that I loved him, that I wanted to be with him. Every time our eyes caught, I looked away as fast as I could, but every cell inside me begged to keep his gaze.
I wanted him. I wanted us.
But I knew deep down that I couldn’t give him what he needed.
It was more than just the fight we’d had in the garden Saturday night. It was true that I couldn’t testify against my ex-husband, that I couldn’t be what Jordan wanted me to be when it came to finding justice for his father. There was too much at stake — my daughter, my safety, our future.
And past that? Jordan was right about me.
I was a coward.
He’d held up on his end of our deal, and I’d failed on mine. The first time he asked me to be there for him, I bailed. I was ashamed, but I wouldn’t hide from that truth, either.
I couldn’t be the woman he deserved.
I had a child, and an ex-husband I was still tied to. It went so much deeper than my reputation on the team and in our small town.
In the most fundamental ways, we were wrong for each other.
And that was a fact I couldn’t ignore.
The State Championship game had snuck up on me like a snake in long-leaved grass, but it was a distraction I welcomed. It was easy to lose myself in the excitement of the players, to focus on getting them ready to play and keeping them iced and bandaged and warm throughout the game. Even in the locker room at halftime, I’d been able to stay distracted, working on the players and tuning out the sound of Jordan’s voice as he motivated them to go out there and get us the win in the second half.
But when the last seconds of the game ticked down, when their team had one last Hail Mary throw chance to come back and score a touchdown and take away our three-point lead, when they missed that chance and the crowd roared and our team exploded off the benches and flooded the field to celebrate our win, everything in me stopped.
And all I could do was find Jordan.
The level of noise that stadium erupted into was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. It was dizzying,
the roaring cheers and the sea of people crashing onto the field and swallowing it up. In a matter of seconds, it went from where you could see every yard of green on the field to where you couldn’t see a single square patch of it.
It was absolutely surreal.
We weren’t in our little hometown. No, we were on a college team’s field, in a stadium twenty-times the size of our small one back home, and we had the entire state watching.
Watching us win.
We won.
It sank in more and more as adrenaline coursed through me, and I searched the crowd frantically, trying to find Jordan. There were already swarms of players and reporters and fans on the field, but I looked toward the middle of it, knowing he would have jogged over to shake hands with the opposing coach before anything else.
There were too many people, and the more that flooded the field, the more my chest tightened. I wanted to find him, but why? What would I do? What would I say? Congrats on the win, Coach? Nothing was right, nothing was enough, and yet I couldn’t stop myself from seeking him out. It was as if I didn’t have a choice at all.
I was still searching for the right words to say once I did find him when there was a little clearing in the field, and there Jordan was, jogging back toward our sideline as reporters chased after him.
He kept his head down, speaking from the corner of his mouth to a few of them but focusing on getting back to where his team was. I imagined he was telling them he’d talk to them at the press conference, or that he just wanted a moment with his players. But they were relentless, all wanting a piece, and when he looked up and saw me staring at him from ten yards away, he slowed to a walk, and then to a complete stop.
It was only a few seconds, if even that.
It was just a small, microscopic moment.
He looked at me. And I looked at him. And all the noise, the chaos, the thrill of the win faded, along with the crowd around us. Time was like an elastic band between us, and I knew he felt it, too — like those few seconds were hours, instead. He just watched me, and I watched him, and we somehow said everything, but nothing at all.
The corner of my mouth lifted, and his did the same.
You did it, I told him with my eyes.
We did it, he told me with his.
I swallowed.
His jaw clenched.
Tears flooded my eyes.
His brows drew together.
Then, as fast as the moment had come, it was gone.
I saw it — the moment Jordan decided not to run to me. His right knee jerked forward automatically, his body leaning into the motion, but he stopped himself, and pulled back, and in his eyes I saw the truth I’d reminded myself of all week reflected back at me.
This was it for us.
We were over.
All of that happened in a matter of seconds, though it felt like an entire lifetime to me, and then all at once, the universe snapped back into action, and Jordan was enveloped first by a few of the players giving him a Gatorade bath from our bright orange water cooler, and then by the sea of reporters.
They swallowed him whole, taking him out of my sight, and I turned before another tear had the chance to fall.
I couldn’t be sure how much time passed on that field after that. I checked in on players, talked to reporters, high-fived the other members of the staff and accepted an emotional hug from Principal Hanley, who told me he knew he made the right decision hiring me.
He also said the job was mine as long as I wanted it, and he was happy to see that Jordan and I worked together so well.
I ignored the fire in my chest at his words, encouraging him to go talk to the other coaches while I found my daughter. And as soon as he shook my hand and made his way deeper onto the field, Paige slammed into me full speed, wrapping her arms around my waist and screaming while I tried to keep my balance.
“YOU DID IT! YOU WON! WE WON! WE WON!”
She was hysterical, jumping up and down and squeezing me and jumping up and down again and then running in circles around me. Seeing her excitement brought the first genuine smile I’d had all week, and it somehow hurt, as if my face had forgotten how to activate those muscles altogether.
“I can’t believe it!” she said, panting, her hands on top of her head as she looked up at me with wide eyes. “I mean, we were down at halftime and I thought for sure that was it! And then you guys came back out and wham!” She made a one-two punch motion with her fists. “Sacks here, tackles there, two interceptions and a field goal kick to gain the lead. And they just crumbled! They couldn’t catch us once we were on fire like that!”
I chuckled, rubbing the crazy hair on her head. “I bet it was because you were in those stands cheering.”
“I mean, I do think I’m a good luck charm,” she said with a crooked grin. “But, this time, it was the team. And Coach! Oh my gosh,” she said, as if she’d only just realized she was on the field. Her eyes scanned it wildly. “Where is he? Can I go find him and congratulate him?” She looked up at me before I had the chance to answer and clapped her hands together. “Please, please, please, pleaseeeee.”
My next breath was stolen by my rib cage squeezing in on itself, but I looked back, finding Jordan standing with Principal Hanley, the reporters talking to the players now and leaving him be.
“Alright,” I said. “But hurry over there and then come right back. Stay where I can see you.”
She’d barely acknowledged my rules before she sprinted into action, and I kept my eyes on her as Randy sidled up next to me.
The moment he did, I felt sick again.
“Congratulations,” he murmured under his breath.
I knew he was being condescending and didn’t actually mean it, but I thanked him anyway.
We stood next to each other in silence, both of our eyes on the field. My stomach rolled when the scent of his cologne caught on the breeze. It was a scent I used to love, one I used to find comfort and love in. Now, it just made me ill.
I watched Jordan smiling down at Paige as she jumped around in front of him, animatedly telling him all her thoughts on the game, no doubt, and my heart ached so fiercely in my chest I had to press a hand over it.
Randy watched me from the corner of his eyes, then he looked at Paige, at Jordan, and back at me.
“Is there something you need to tell me, Sydney?”
His voice sent a chill down my spine, though I wasn’t sure why.
“I have literally had nothing to say to you since the day I left you, Randy.”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. I think you do have something to tell me.”
“What are you getting at?” I asked, hoping the long sigh from my chest gave away that I was bored and not interested in fighting with him.
“I ran into Marty at Buck’s the other night,” he said. “You know Marty. Barrel-raiser down at the distillery.”
“Yes. And?”
“Well, he was at Noah Becker’s wedding last weekend,” he said, and then my heart stopped at the same time a wicked grin climbed on his lips from my peripheral view. “But I guess you already know that, since he told me you were there, too.”
It took every ounce of willpower I had left to calm my breathing in that moment, to not let him see that I was intimidated by his menacing gaze, by the threat that lay beneath the innocent words he’d said out loud.
“I’m not doing this with you,” I finally said, and I took a step toward Paige, but before I could walk away, Randy grabbed my wrist and ripped me around to face him.
Pain shot up my arm, and panic zipped through me before I subdued it, meeting his eyes with fierce determination to not let him see me scared of him ever again.
“Paige is nine years old, Sydney. Do you think she hasn’t been telling me that Coach has been over nearly every weekend?”
My heart raced, but I didn’t say a word.
“First of all, I didn’t agree to Paige playing football. I’m still her father, in case you forgot.”
�
��Randy,” I said as calmly as I could when he gripped me tighter. Every cell in my body was slipping into survival mode, and I used every ounce of strength I had to remain calm.
But before I could ask him to release me, Randy pulled me in closer, eyes dark and narrowed.
“Are you fucking Jordan Becker?”
His words were a slap to the face, but I didn’t flinch.
“Randy,” I said calmly again, glancing around to make sure no one was watching us. Everyone seemed to be distracted by the win, but my heart ricocheted within my ribcage regardless. I lowered my voice to just above a whisper. “Let go of me.”
He blew out an angry breath through his nose, his grip tightening even more on my wrist as I winced. That seemed to wake him, and he blinked, like he’d been in a fog. His eyes caught somewhere behind me, and he released me immediately, smoothing his hands over his uniform — which he didn’t need to be wearing, but I knew he did because he needed that power, always.
Randy’s eyes caught at the same point behind me before he found my gaze again. “We’ll talk later,” he said, and then he turned and left without even saying goodbye to his daughter.
And I let out a shaky breath that I covered with both of my hands, squeezing my eyes shut and releasing two tears down my hot cheeks. I tried so hard not to let them fall, but my body was acting of its own accord, the relief and anxiety crashing into me all at once like a tsunami.
I didn’t have time to get it together before Paige was at my side, and then I heard Jordan, too.
“Sydney?” he asked, touching my elbow, and I nearly broke at the contact — so gentle and calming and sure.
So unlike Randy’s.
“Are you okay?”
I swiped the tears from my face, not looking at him as I reached for Paige’s hand. I knew if I saw concern on his face, if I saw care in his eyes, I would break completely.
“I’m fine,” I said as calmly as I could. “I’ll see you at school on Monday. Come on, Paigey.”
I put on my best smile for her, steering her toward the locker room. I needed to get my stuff. And then I needed to get the hell out of here.
Old Fashioned Page 22
