Homecoming (A Boys of Fall Novel) (4 page)

“You came all the way from Texas to help us raise money to keep playing,” Hunter Cass said. “And now you came back again ’cause Coach got sick. You’re already one of us.”

Emotion welled up in Sam’s chest, catching him off guard. He picked up the clipboard again and sat on the edge of the desk to give himself a few seconds. When he left Stewart Mills after high school, he never thought he’d see
it again. When he’d returned for Eagles Fest, he was surprised to realize he’d missed it—missed the people and the community bond. Now, on his second trip back for an extended stay, the feelings seemed magnified.

When he saw Jen fidget in her seat through the corner of his eye, he guessed she was about to fill the silence and forced himself to get it together. “Where’s Shawn Riley?”

A hand went up in the back, and Sam looked at the tall, lean kid with closely cropped dark hair and some scruff on his jaw. According to the sheet, he was a junior, but Sam didn’t know much else about him.

“You’re the quarterback?” The kid gave one sharp nod, but said nothing. “So you lead the offense, then?”

“I mostly do that,” Hunter said. “I like to talk and Riley likes to be quiet.”

Maybe Sam was biased since he’d played quarterback in high school, but he didn’t think the running back should be the touchstone for the offense. “A team’s gotta have confidence in the quarterback.”

“Whoa, dude,” Cody said. “We have confidence in Riley. Cass just does the cheerleading and shit. He gets us fired up and does all the talking.”

Sam wasn’t sure if the kid was allowed to say
shit
in the school building, but Jen didn’t call foul, so he just went with it. And he noticed the rest of the guys were nodding as Cody spoke, so it was obvious to him they all had Shawn Riley’s back.

His cell phone buzzed on the desk and he glanced at the screen. Because he had it set to preview texts on the lock screen, he could see the message from Jen.
Don’t push at Shawn. Talk after.

If there was an issue with the quarterback, it seemed to Sam that Coach could have given him a heads-up. But the man’s philosophy had always been you learned more by doing than talking, so he’d apparently just thrown Sam in the deep end and expected him to swim.

“Okay,” he said, turning his attention back to the players. “We’re getting on a bus for an away game Friday night. That means we only have a couple of practices together and I need everybody to show up tomorrow afternoon ready to work. For now I want to know what you guys think I should know about the Eagles and what I have to do in order to be the guy you need on the sidelines.”

The boys talked for almost an hour, walking him through a typical practice. He could tell by what they stressed what mattered to them, and he took a lot of notes. Nothing earth-shattering, but he hoped it would subconsciously reinforce in the boys’ heads that no matter who was standing on the sidelines, they knew what they were doing and they did it well.

When they ran out of steam, and PJ’s stomach growled so loudly it actually drowned out the sound of his voice, Sam decided to call it a night.

“Now that we’ve got the talking out of the way,” he said, “I expect you guys to be ready to work tomorrow. I want to see what you can do when you’re not playing a team of old guys.”

They were laughing as they filed out of the room, so he wasn’t surprised when Jen smiled at him. “That went well.”

“Thanks. They’re a solid team. They could probably do just fine even if nobody was on the sidelines in a goofy polo shirt.”

“It’s not goofy.”

The words sounded automatic, but when her gaze traveled
from his face and down to his waist, he could tell she thought he looked pretty damn good in it. Too bad he wasn’t her type
at all
, though.

“I should have talked to you about Shawn Riley before the meeting,” she said when she was done admiring the fit of his goofy polo shirt. “Or Coach should have. Got a few minutes?”

“I’m starving, actually. And it’s late. You hungry? We can go over to the House of Pizza and you can fill me in on anything I need to know while we eat.”

Her eyes widened, but then she looked at the clock on the wall and sighed. “I am hungry. Half the team probably went straight to the pizza house from here, though. We wouldn’t be able to talk.”

“O’Rourke’s?” He wasn’t sure why he didn’t just tell her he’d stop by her office tomorrow before practice.

“Okay. I have to go back to my office for a few minutes, but I can meet you there in twenty minutes or so?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Sam watched her go and then picked up his clipboard. He needed to go back to Coach’s office and grab the massive binder that served as the playbook. And he should call Mrs. McDonnell and let her know he wouldn’t be joining them for dinner because he’d be with Jen Cooper.

But only in a professional capacity, of
course.

J
en hesitated outside the entrance to O’Rourke’s Family Restaurant. She’d seen Sam’s truck parked across the street, so she knew he was already inside. And once she went in and sat down with him, there’d be no putting that juicy tidbit of fruit back on the grapevine.

Hell, the way this town worked, there was a good chance she’d get a text message from Kelly or Gretchen before her food even arrived.

She’d just have to make it firmly known to anybody who asked that it was a meeting to talk about the football players and it happened to take place in a restaurant because they were hungry. Nothing more. Leaving wasn’t an option because she’d told him she’d meet him here, and the last thing she wanted was for him to think she couldn’t face being alone with him.

When she’d said hello to Cassandra Jones, who owned the restaurant with her husband, Jen walked to the table in the back where Sam was. He stood when she approached, and she appreciated the show of old-school manners. It was sweet, and she smiled at him as they both sat down.

She noticed a few people looking their way and tried to ignore them. People would say whatever they’d say. But then she wondered if Kelsey would hear about this and think she’d been lying about calling dibs on Sam. Which, naturally, made her think about licking his neck again.

Snatching up the menu, she opened it and intensely studied the offerings, even though they probably hadn’t made any changes in the last five years or so. By the time their server took their orders for burgers and fries, with soda for him and iced tea for her, she’d managed to pull it together.

“I’m glad you suggested this,” she said. “I wanted to have a chance to talk to you about Shawn, but I didn’t realize how hungry I was until you mentioned dinner.”

“I didn’t think the meeting would go quite that long, or I would have had a snack beforehand. Or ordered pizza for everybody.”

“I had a couple of cookies in the break room. There are usually cookies or brownies or something in there on any given day. If it’s a big platter and not labeled, it’s usually safe to snack on. Just, whatever you do, don’t ever eat anything in a plastic dish with a green lid.”

“Science projects?”

She laughed. “Mr. Hammond’s lunches. He’s one of the science teachers, but he’s forbidden from using the break room fridge for projects. There was an incident about two
years before I started there. He’s a pretty laid-back guy, unless you touch the food his wife packed for him.”

“She must be a helluva cook.”

“Rumor has it she writes him sexy notes and tapes them to the bottom of the lid, but it’s just a rumor.”

They talked about the school staff, laughing at some of their funny quirks and reminiscing about the teachers who they’d had in high school who were still there. Jen got lost in the conversation and was surprised when their server interrupted them with their meals. She would have liked to keep talking because she loved the sound of Sam’s laugh, but they were hungry enough to focus on eating.

“So,” he said once they’d put a big enough dent in their burgers to take the edge off. “You seem very involved with the team for a guidance counselor.”

“I’m very involved with
all
of the students once they hit sixth grade. My office is in the high school, but two mornings a week, I’m at the middle school. Sometimes more if the kids or parents make appointments with me. The elementary school has a part-time guidance counselor they share with a couple of other small schools in the area, since the needs are different.”

“I was surprised when I heard you’d be at the meeting today.”

“I know those students more than any other member of the staff except Coach. I try to touch base with each of them at least once a week. There’s a lot of pressure when it comes to playing sports. And trying to balance that with academics along with responsibilities at home can be hard on them.”

“Especially when things are tough in the community and at home.”

“Exactly. And I have to stay on them pretty constantly about their futures. It’s easy for teenagers to think an athletic scholarship is their ticket out of a small town, especially when they play for a really good team. But the reality is that this school barely registers on the collegiate sports radar. Some of them are good enough so they might get some scholarship money, but the likelihood of going pro is very slim. I have to keep them focused on what they’ll be happy doing five days a week until they’re sixty-something years old.”

“Must be hard to find the balance between realistic and discouraging.”

“It is, but I try to err on the side of encouraging them to dream big. Anyway, that’s why I’m so involved with the team. And we all wanted to see how they took to having you step in for Coach, which went well. But I won’t be following you around, looking over your shoulder the entire time, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not worried at all. It was just an observation. I don’t remember the guidance counselor ever talking to us back when I was on the team.”

“I don’t remember ever talking to the woman at all.”

“I don’t imagine you really needed her much.”

She frowned, trying to figure out what he meant by that. “Every student should have a good relationship with the guidance counselor.”

“You had a pretty sweet upbringing, though. A dad that wore a suit to his job at the bank. Your mom baked stuff for fund-raisers. His-and-hers sedans in the two-car garage.”

She arched her eyebrow at him. “I’m not going to say I didn’t have a nice childhood, because I did, but that didn’t make me less entitled to academic and career counseling.”

“You’re right. Old jealousies, I guess.”

Part of her wanted to dig around in what he’d said and see just how deep that resentment went. But he looked a little embarrassed and she let it go. “The guidance counselor we had is one of the reasons I do it. And a big reason I came home when she finally retired. She was lazy as hell and kids slipped through the cracks. When you’re in a small town like this, it’s so important to help the kids see the bigger picture and prepare them to go find their way.”

He tilted his head, smiling at her. “You’re pretty passionate about your job.”

For some reason, she felt her face flush, even though she certainly wasn’t ashamed to love what she did. “I am.”

“So tell me about my quarterback.”

“When Shawn was little, he had some pretty serious speech issues and he was bullied about it. Even, unfortunately, by some members of his family. The pattern you’ll see, of Shawn hanging back and letting Hunter run the room, was established back in elementary school.”

Sam sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Does Shawn think he’s going to play college ball? It’s not very likely he’ll find a school that’ll let him bring Hunter with him everywhere he goes.”

“It’s not that bad, really. Around second grade, they were finally able to get some decent speech services for Shawn, and by the time they started middle school, he was age-typical. If you get him alone, without the other guys to do the talking, you’ll see he does just fine when he has to make his own way.”

“You made it sound like I should tiptoe around him a bit.”

She took a sip of her iced tea and shrugged. “He left his
speech delays behind, but it’s not as easy to leave behind the effects of being bullied, especially by people you’re supposed to trust.”

“I know.”

Startled by his flat tone, Jen set her glass down. Of course he did. Probably nobody in Stewart Mills knew more than Sam how much childhood betrayals left a mark. But she also knew he wouldn’t appreciate her turning the conversation to
his
younger years. “I don’t even know if he’s aware of it, but he gets angry if an adult male he doesn’t know well pushes him to talk in front of other people. From what I’ve gathered . . . I . . . Crap. I’m not sure what to do here.”

“Technically, I’m a member of the high school staff. Kelly rushed the background check through the day after she called me, and I’m on the books as a substitute.” His eyes were serious as he gave her a sad smile. “I don’t gossip. And the last thing I want to do is make this harder on
any
of the boys by triggering something ugly.”

Jen knew in her gut that if there was anybody she could trust to look out for Shawn Riley’s best interests, it would be Sam. And he was not only right about being a staff member, but Shawn’s speech issues weren’t really a secret. Half the town could probably tell him the story.

“Shawn was raised by a single mother. She had to work a lot of hours, so there was no choice but to depend on her father and her brothers to help out with Shawn. I gather they were disgusted by his speech delay and would make him talk so they could laugh at him. He was made fun of at school and then his grandfather and uncles would mock him at home.”

Jen watched Sam struggle to maintain a professional
demeanor. But his eyes narrowed slightly and the muscles in his jaw flexed. The fingers of his right hand curled into a fist for a moment before he flattened his palm on the table.

After a moment, he inhaled deeply and then spoke quietly. “Okay.”

“The more he gets to know you, the more he’ll step out of Hunter’s shadow.”

“That must be why I really don’t remember him from Eagles Fest. There are some kids with big personalities on the team. And I remember thinking they had a good quarterback during the alumni game, but I don’t remember talking to him.”

“I know he played, but he missed some of the other stuff. He works a lot of hours to sock money away in the summer so his mom could quit her second job.”

“Sounds like a good kid.”

Jen picked up a fry and dragged it through the ketchup, making squiggles on her plate. “There’s more.”

“I’m starting to wonder why Coach didn’t tell me all of this.”

“Coach doesn’t talk about his players,” Jen said. “Unless it has to do with academic eligibility or he thinks there’s a dangerous behavior happening, he keeps everything to himself.”

“We always knew we could trust him. Even I learned to trust him, but it took a while.”

“And that brings us back to Shawn Riley. He plays football because of you.”

She wasn’t surprised when his brow furrowed in confusion. “Because of me? The kid doesn’t even know me.”

“No, but he knows
of
you. It’s a small town. People know
you were . . . that you had a rough childhood. He told me once that he chose to be like you and seek out the male role models and team bond that made you stronger.”

Sam gave a short, self-deprecating laugh. “Does the story include the part where I only showed up because the alternative was jail?”

“I know that part, but I don’t know if the kids do.” She knew that part because he’d talked about the brick-throwing incident the night she’d seen him walking and picked him up.

And taken him parking.

She hadn’t
meant
to take him parking, in the making-out sense of the word. It was simply a pretty spot with plenty of privacy for conversations. And other things.

Before her mind could cough up a highlight reel of the
other things
, Jen popped the French fry into her mouth. After swallowing that, she downed some iced tea and then dared to meet Sam’s gaze again.

He was grinning.

“What?” she asked, assuming she had ketchup on her mouth or something.

“Nothing.” But she could see he was highly amused about something and simply stared at him until he broke. “
You
were thinking about it this time.”

“Was not.”

He laughed, causing several women in the place to turn to watch him. “Yeah, you were. You must really suck at poker.”

She did, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him. “So we both think about it. Pretty sure that’s normal.”

“I think about it a lot,” he said in a low voice that made her breath catch. “Good thing I’m not your type or we’d probably end up doing more than thinking about it.”

Even as heat curled through her body, she caught the slight edge to his voice. Being perceptive was a big part of why she was good at her job, and he didn’t like that she’d said that earlier. Or rather that she’d claimed they weren’t
each other’s
types, but that’s not what he said.

Before she could say anything, not that she had any idea how to respond to that, Sam pulled out his cell phone and looked at the time. “I hate to eat and run, but I’m supposed to go see my mother. She’s kind of a night owl, I guess.”

“Oh, you’re going to see her now?”

“Down, Miss Guidance Counselor.” He gave her a wry grin. “Just a quick visit to say hi in person. We talked a few times after I went back to Texas. I’m trying, and that’s enough.”

Considering the stories she’d heard about Sam Leavitt’s parents when they were growing up, she admired the effort. “You know where to find me if you want to talk.”

He cocked his brow at her. “Like last time?”

Damn her lack of a poker face.
Yes, please.
“No.”

Chuckling, he stood and took out his wallet. She wasn’t surprised when he insisted on paying for her dinner, but she did win the battle to leave the tip.

“See you tomorrow,” he said casually as they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

“Good night.”

The autumn night had definitely taken a chilly turn, so Jen hurried to her car. But as she opened the door, she looked over her shoulder to where Sam had parked. He was watching her and when their eyes met, the heat in his gaze chased the chill away.

After a few seconds, she took a deep breath and slid into the driver’s seat. Every time she looked at Sam, it got a little
bit harder to convince herself he wasn’t her type. And he was going to be in town just long enough to cause her a lot of sleepless nights.

—

S
am drove down a dirt road on the outskirts of town, his fingers tight on the steering wheel. He remembered the road from his teen years, since it ended at a river that had a tree perfect for a rope swing.

There was a small cluster of tiny houses, which had started out as camps back in the day, about a quarter of a mile shy of the river. Over time the camps had been converted into year-round homes and at some point a guy had bought them and used them as cheap rental properties. His mom’s house was a lot smaller and shabbier than the house Sam had grown up in, but at least looking at the outside didn’t make him want to vomit. If his mother still lived in that other house, this visit wouldn’t be happening.