Win Me Over (24 page)

Bennett didn't know what to say. Jason was right; it was bullshit that this had happened. Friends don't sucker punch each other, except sometimes they did. “Jason, I hope you don't think Tate had some sort of agenda; you guys are too close for that.”

“Are we? Honestly, Coach, I don't really know what I think anymore. Sometimes I just don't want to think at all.”

Bennett chewed on that statement for a moment. He remembered being a teenager. Emotions, hormones, and adolescent drama could take its toll, but he'd sat through enough in-service hours about teenage suicide and depression to just blow Jason's comment off as normal. Shit, he'd felt that way himself. Low enough that life no longer seemed worth living. But that feeling mixed with the head injury. It just didn't sit right with Bennett.

“You need to talk to someone about it? I mean, you can talk to me, too, but I mean, ya know … someone.”

“Like a shrink?”

“I'm just sayin' sometimes you need to get things out. You remember who you're talkin' to, right? Look at me,” Bennett demanded. Jason's eyes landed on Bennett's and he could see so much pain in that young face it hurt to look at it. “There is no feeling going through your head right now that I haven't dealt with, you understand me? Anger, sadness, self-hatred, guilt, suicide. I've felt them all. But I'm here to tell you that your emotions can lie to you and sometimes you need someone to help you figure out the lies from the truth. I talked to a shrink once. I can't say it was life changing, but it sure didn't hurt either.”

Jason looked away, breathing in deep and then running a hand through his hair. “I don't know, Coach.”

“Jason. We'll get through this. I'll help you. This doesn't mean football is over for you, but you have to trust me.”

Jason fiddled with his jacket zipper. “Maybe I could talk to Mrs.York.”

Bennett let out a breath. “I think that's a good place to start. Why don't I have a talk with her?” Bennett said. Mrs. York was the school's psychologist and Bennett liked her. She was married with kids but still young enough not to seem out of touch to the students. He'd actually already given her a little heads-up about Jason, because he'd had a feeling things weren't going well. “I think talking out some of your frustration will really help.”

“I just can't believe that this has happened my senior year. I've worked too hard for this.”

“Yeah, you have, and I wish I could change it for you; I really do. I won't feed you any lines about what doesn't kill you makes you stronger … although I just did, but I want you to know I'm on your side. I want you to come back and show these scouts what you're made of, and I know that some of your pissed-off feelings are aimed toward me. But Jason, you know my position on safety. I won't risk your health for this sport.”

Jason's jaw dropped open, his eyes going wide with shock. Then anger. “What are you sayin', Coach? You won't let me play?”

“No, I'm not ready to let you come back today. Practice can be dangerous, too. You can stand and assist with me. Watch, but you're not suiting up. You're going to have to miss Friday's game.”

“That's crap, Coach. I know I'm fine. My parents want me to play; the doctor says I'm good.”

Bennett hated being the bad guy, more than Jason would ever know. But Bennett wouldn't back down. “Listen. I get it. You're angry, and I'm going to have to deal with being the focus of your anger. You may hate me for it, and that sucks. But too many kids are ending up damaged from second hits. I won't let you be one of them. I know the doc says your concussion is minor, but you haven't been yourself this past week. And maybe it's nothing, but I'm not willing to risk it. A concussion is a concussion.”

Jason was quiet for a long time. “What about next Friday's game? I heard Jim Rice might come.”

Bennett knew for a fact that a scout for Mizzou was coming. University of Missouri was one of Jason's top picks. It would kill Bennett to keep that opportunity from the kid, but he was unwilling to make any promises. “Why don't we reevaluate next Wednesday morning? In the meantime I want you to meet with Mrs. York every school day. I'll set it up. Get a lot of sleep; continue to exercise. Feed your body some healthy food. And think about talking to Tate.”

Jason wrung his hands repeatedly. Bennett let Jason sit there as long as he needed, respecting his need to let the news sink in.

Finally he looked up. “All right, Coach. I'll be back in here Wednesday morning before school.”

“Hey, man, I know things look bleak, but I guarantee you, things could be a lot worse. And even if they were a lot worse, well, then they could still be a lot worse than that. Hear me?”

“Yeah, I hear ya.”

Jason shuffled out and Bennett ran his hands through his hair. He didn't enjoy seeing one of his boys suffer. As a man who had suffered to the extreme himself, he knew it wasn't as bad as they thought it was, but you couldn't tell a teenager that. That didn't stop Bennett from trying.

*   *   *

Callie stood at the front door and glanced around her duplex Thursday evening, trying to envision it from someone else's perspective. It was cute, if not a little small, decorated with bright colors and some great flea market finds she'd scored with Lindsey—who despite her shy personality was amazing at finding great pieces and haggling.

Callie was nervous to have Bennett over for the first time. It wasn't necessary, but she'd started to feel bad that they always went to his place. And the truth was, she wanted him here. Wanted him to know all of her. She'd even made him dinner—a recipe from Anne's mother, who had assured Callie that her meat loaf was sure to win a man's heart. Well, Callie wasn't sure about the heart winning, but she did want to please him.

She'd come home before team practice that afternoon and made the meat loaf so she could just bake it tonight. The smell in her little place was divine. She'd even made a couple of baked potatoes to go with it. She prayed it all came out tasting as good as it smelled.

There was a small knock on the door and Callie's heart pounded. Right before she opened it a high-pitched voice called out, “It's your mama. Open up.”

Shit.
This could not be happening. Callie swung open the door just in time to catch a large garment bag thrust at her.

“Mom, what are you doing here?”

“Doing a fitting, what else?” Barbara held her sewing bag and her purse, dropping both onto Callie's perfectly plumped sofa. Callie bit back the words she really wanted to say right now.

“Couldn't you have given me a call? Let me know you were coming?”

Barbara's eyes danced as she turned her head from side to side. “Do you have company?”

The woman looked hopeful. “Well, not at the moment, but soon.”

Barbara sniffed. “Are you cooking something?”

Callie groaned. “Mom, let's get this fitting done quickly please.” She grabbed the garment bag and headed for her bedroom.

Shutting the door, she quickly undressed and then pulled the plastic cover off of her dress. She nearly gasped. “Oh, Mom,” she whispered to herself.

The dress was beautiful. Spectacular even. Callie didn't give her mother enough credit; the woman was insanely talented when it came to sewing. She might dress herself outlandishly, but she did have an eye when it came to performance outfits.

Callie carefully pulled the dress from the hanger and slipped it on. She stood in front of her full-length mirror and took it in.

The sage-green material was incredibly flattering on her. The straps lay perfectly on her shoulders, leading down into the chiffon bodice that fit snug through the waist before flowing into a breezy skirt that hit right at the bases of her calves. It was simple yet so elegant. Callie did a few twirls. A woman was never too old to enjoy a twirly dress.

She opened her bedroom door and headed down the short hallway. “Mom, I love it.”

She stepped into the living room and found herself face-to-face with Bennett. He stood up from the sofa as soon as he saw her, his eyes wide.

He didn't say anything for a long moment and neither did she. He swallowed hard and his lips parted slightly as his eyes ran the length of her.

“It's perfect; don't you think so, Coach Clark?” Barbara asked. Callie noticed her mother had a twinkle in her eye.

“I do. It's beautiful,” he finally managed to say.

Barbara's grin made Callie want to laugh. How did the woman always manage to get her way? Maybe Callie
should
aspire to be more like her mother.

“Mom, it's great. It fits perfectly. Thank you.”

Barbara walked over and began to feel around at the seams. The process so familiar to Callie it was like stepping back in time. So many hours of her childhood had her standing still as a statue, arms out, as her mother poked and pinned, repinned and measured. Callie had hated it, but standing here as a grown woman, she suddenly realized what an act of love it was. The pageants were ridiculous. Extravagant. Insane. But her mother had always,
always,
wanted Callie to be happy. Wanted Callie's father to be happy. Barbara's entire life was a selfless act, and suddenly that realization made Callie want to cry, instead of judging her mother. The overwhelming rush of gratitude Callie felt for this woman nearly knocked her over.

As Barbara knelt down to check the hem, Callie glanced at Bennett. He was grinning, and when their eyes met he winked. “I love it. You look beautiful,” he said. No shame, no hiding his words from Barbara.

“Thank you,” Callie said.

A moment later Barbara stood. “I think it'll do.”

“It will more than do, Mom. It's wonderful.”

Barbara grinned. “I'm glad. Well, I guess I'll just leave you two alone to practice.” Like a gentleman, Bennett helped Barbara carry her stuff out to her car. Callie used the opportunity to go change back into her Capri leggings, heels and T-shirt—better known as her practice outfit.

When Bennett walked back inside he instantly looked disappointed. “Why'd you take it off? I was looking forward to putting my hands on you in that dress.”

He shut the front door, locked it, and came right over to where she stood, pulling her into his arms. It felt so easy, so natural. She looked up at him. “We don't want to mess it up before the competition.”

“True. So then after the contest you have to wear that dress and let me do whatever I want to you while you're in it.”

“How about that night we will celebrate our win with superhot sex?”

“Sounds good.” He lifted his head. “Are you cooking something? It smells amazing.”

She was beyond pleased, and also a little nervous. “I made us dinner, and the rules are, even if it's nasty you have to tell me how delicious it is.”

Bennett chuckled and placed a small kiss on her nose. “I'm sure it will be fine. I'm starving.”

Callie dished up the dinner, noticing that now they were done flirting his eyebrows were drawn together like he was stressed.

“You okay?” she asked, setting a plate in front of him.

“Yeah.” He immediately smiled, but she knew better.

“Liar. What's going on?”

Bennett put some butter on his baked potato. She liked watching his careful ministrations. Like everything else he did, it was slow and precise. She hadn't known there was a way to precisely use butter.

Finally he started talking. “Jason really wanted to play tomorrow night, but I told him no.”

Callie felt relief flood her body and proceeded to shake a ridiculous amount of salt onto her own potato. She'd been so afraid that whatever was bothering him was about them, the competition, anything that was going to devastate her. “You don't want him to play?”

“I
do
want him to play. I'm just nervous. He had a head injury. A concussion. He's depressed.” Bennett took a few bites and she did, too, waiting for when he was ready to continue. “Second-hit trauma has sort of become an epidemic and I'll be damned if that happens to one of my boys. I told him we'll see about next week, but I'm not even sure about that. The thing that's eating me up inside is that the scout from Mizzou is coming. If I don't let him play … shit, I'll feel like I'm robbing the kid of his dreams.”

“Is a scout seeing him the only way to play for them?”

“No. But it would definitely help. A lot.”

They continued to eat and Callie was happy to see that Bennett had no problem downing her dinner. Even telling her twice how great it was. But she kept thinking about his concerns. She wanted to help him, but she really didn't have much experience.

“Has his doctor cleared him?” she finally asked.

“Yep. Which surprises me, and then again, it doesn't. His dad was probably in there throwing his attitude around. But it's made me the bad guy.”

“You have to do what you think is right, Bennett. You're not trying to be a jerk; you want them to be safe.”

Their eyes met and he nodded. “That's all I ever want. Nobody knows better than me that you can go on without playing football. I don't want them to have to learn that the way I did.”

“You're doing the right thing then, Bennett.”

She was relieved when he nodded and then helped himself to seconds of meat loaf as large as his first helping.

“I'm not kidding; this is really good. I haven't had comfort food like this in a long time. Since I lived at home.”

“It's Anne's mother's recipe. Meat loaf a là Marie. I guess she made it for Mike and he liked it so much that Anne has to make it for him a couple times a month. I hoped that meant you'd like it, too.”

“So you made it just for me, huh?” Bennett asked; a boyish grin broke out. He was blindingly handsome when he did that.