Forbidden Love

21

Jaxon

"Get your head out of your ass, Montgomery!" Coach Turner yells to the field. I pause at the bleachers wondering if it's a good time to walk up and ask for my spot back. I've been putting it off long enough. It's time to suck it up and deal with Turner. Luna agreed to help, and Mrs. Wilson was really happy about all the algebra pages I did—since I did extra, she said it would count toward my total grade score.

Coach has to take me back.

"Sorry! The ball slipped!" Number eighteen calls from the field as he stumbles with the ball. I notice some of the boys snickering at him.

"Why don't you go and play with plastic trucks with my three-year-old son if you're going to act like you haven't a held a ball in your whole miserable life!" Coach yells back, but the boy keeps playing. Good for Montgomery. Coach is all talk anyway.

"I see you're still breathing down everyone's necks," I say a few feet away. With Coach, you have to keep a distance unless he tells you otherwise. We call it "staying out of the strike zone".

Coach Turner keeps his eyes trained on the field and huffs. "I see you're still breathing down mine." I smirk and wait a minute before he finally turns to me. "I was wondering when you were gonna show up, Gray."

"Glad to know you missed me."

"Didn't miss that mouth of yours, only those hands."

I glance at my hands. "These old things?"

He doesn't smile, only quirks his mouth up on one side, but that's the most we can expect from him. "Did you come here to bother me, or did you need something?"

I know he knows what I want. He's making me say it. Leave it to Coach to make things harder for me.

"I want my spot on the team."

"Your spot?" He raises an eyebrow. "It stopped being your spot when you left for Canada."

"You know I had personal reasons."

Coach's jaw ticks. Connor was always his favorite player on and off the field. We all used to joke that he liked Connor more than his own son. Isaac never seemed to care anyway.

"Before you left, you had me jumping through hoops just to keep you on the team. I have a bad knee, kid. I don't like to jump." He clears his throat. "Your teachers were on me about your grades. Are you still gonna make me look like a fool?"

"No, Coach. I'm getting tutored now and even earned myself some extra credit and it's only the second week of school." Yes. I will continue to bring that up until someone acknowledges it because I'm proud of myself.

"Do you want a congratulations?" Coach stares at me.

"Not anymore," I mutter under my breath. "Listen, Coach, my grades will be perfect—or at least better. I just want to play football now."

He stares at me before turning around to face practice again. I roll my eyes. He really is not making this easy on me. What does a guy have to do around here to play on the field?

I notice Paxton talking to that boy from earlier. He's laughing and goofing off. Of course, he is. That's Paxton for you. He's all fun and games, but when the time comes, he has our backs on the field. Always.

"I swear if that kid wasn't the best quarterback in the entirety of Rose Thorn, I'd have him thrown off my team," Coach grumbles before shouting, "Carter! You better quit messing with Montgomery if you know what's good for you!"

"Montgomery's a freshman?" I ask.

"Sophomore," Coach corrects and then narrows his eyes on me. "Why are you still out here instead of getting dressed?"

"What?"

"If you're not out here and ready to go in five minutes you're off the team. Again!"

"Oh— I— thank you Coach!" I run to the locker room as fast as I can. If Coach says five minutes, he means five minutes.

In the locker room, I find my locker pretty quickly. My name is already on there with a little smiley face scrawled on the bottom from Paxton—I know it's his because he always adds a poorly drawn cowboy hat. The fact that my locker has been here this whole time while I've been trying to get back on the team makes me feel better. They wanted me here as much as I wanted to be here. All of the extra stress was for nothing. It doesn't take me long to change into some practice clothes, and once I run back to the field, past the bleachers, I notice a wooden bench with a plaque on it.

I run my fingers through the words for a moment.

Just a moment.

In Loving Memory of Connor L. Gray #2

Son, Brother, Teammate, and Friend

We love you

My fingers stop at the word "brother" for the longest. The hole in my heart seems to be growing bigger and bigger with every memory of Connor. All of it torn away from me in one stupid night. But I love how the school allowed this to be put here. I completely forgot about it until now.

"Relaxing time is over Gray! Get out there!" I hear Coach yell at a distance. I take a breath to gather my thoughts and head to the field.

Paxton runs to me first, and we do our handshake. Mason and Isaac pat me on the back, as do the rest of the team until Coach yells at us for "lollygagging like five-year-old's". There are a few new faces, but they welcome me back like I never left.

Being on the field doesn't feel like suffocation or make me want to run back to Canada, it actually feels like the opposite. And even though I've been back for two whole weeks, I'm only now feeling like I'm finally home.