Two years later . . .
“You’re nervous.” Stevie pointed at the eggs she’d scrambled with her spatula. “Too nervous to eat?”
“Yeah. I think I’d better skip breakfast.” My insides were too knotted to eat. “Tell me this isn’t a huge mistake.”
“It’s not a huge mistake.” Spatula aside, stove flipped off, Stevie moved in close, her hands on my waist. “You’re going to do great.”
She’d said the same thing two years ago, in this same kitchen, on my first day as a coach at the Oaks.
Now we were having the same conversation all over again, on the first day of my new job.
As the special teams coach for the Treasure State Wildcats.
I’d hoped one day I’d get to work for my alma mater. But I sure as hell hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. I’d planned to be at the Oaks for years. Then Ford Ellis had called a month ago and asked if I’d be up for a challenge.
The former special teams coach, my former coach, was retiring. Coach Ellis—he’d told me I had to start calling him Ford, but it was taking a while to mentally make that switch—wanted to bring in the next coach to make it a smooth transition.
“It’s weird though, right? I played with some of the guys still on the team.”
“So?” Stevie shrugged. “You were a player. Now you’re their coach.”
“It still feels weird.” If these nerves didn’t stop, I was going to puke. When was the last time I’d puked? That was Stevie’s specialty lately, not mine.
She was four months pregnant with our baby boy. It had taken the entire first trimester for her to keep breakfast down.
“Maverick.” Stevie took my face in her hands, forcing me to lock in on her face. “Breathe.”
“I’m not qualified.”
“You’ve been head coach at the Oaks for two years. You made it to the state championship last year.”
“The kids are good.”
“And so are you.” She kissed me again, then let me go to finish making her breakfast. “Maybe call your dad on the way to work.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “Good idea.”
For most of my life, Mom had been the person I’d call when I couldn’t sort the mess in my head. Stevie was that person now. But Dad had gotten damn good at providing backup.
We were all finding our way after Mom. Creating new dynamics. Dad worked a lot. He golfed a lot too, mostly with Kai and Bodhi. He was arguably more excited than anyone to have a new grandson to spoil soon.
“I’d better go.” I sighed and pulled her in for a hug. “Don’t work too hard today.”
“It’s June, Mav.”
Meaning she’d work too hard. It was peak season at Adair, and the season meant I had limited time with my wife.
Declan still worked as a landscape designer, not quite ready to retire fully yet. But she ran the place these days. He was there to be her backup, taking on some projects and offering his expertise.
“No lifting anything heavy.”
“I won’t,” she said, her hand finding mine to loop our pinky fingers together. “I love you.”
“Love you too.” I kissed her forehead, then forced myself out of the kitchen, calling Dad before I’d even climbed in my truck.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey. What’s up?”
“I’m nervous.”
“You’ll be fine, Maverick.”
“But what if—”
“This is a good decision. You can do this job.”
His reassurances were the same as Stevie’s. Either they were both telling me the truth.
Or she’d prepped him for this call.
“Thanks.”
He chuckled. “Call me later. I want to hear how it went.”
“Will do. Still on for dinner?”
“I’ll be over with pizza at seven.”
“Okay. Don’t forget—”
“I know, I know. I’ll get Stevie’s special pizza. Good luck.”
“Bye.” It helped. But not enough. When I pulled into the parking lot of the fieldhouse, I still wanted to puke.
Two years of working at the Oaks, it almost felt like a betrayal to walk into a different office. But my replacement at the high school was perfectly capable. He’d just moved to Mission, looking for a smaller town to raise his kids after a successful coaching career in Las Vegas.
But I’d miss my students. I’d miss the familiar routine. I’d miss seeing Mom’s picture in the hall every day.
Stevie had anticipated that one. She’d packed a framed picture of Mom and me to put on the corner of my desk. It was in my backpack along with a picture from our wedding day.
We’d gotten married in December, on New Year’s Eve, a year and a half ago. She’d been flawless in a chiffon gown with a ruffled skirt. We’d had a huge party under twinkle lights with champagne and cake.
There’d been no need for reassuring phone calls that day. I’d known, in my bones, that Stevie and I belonged together. What the hell did it mean that I couldn’t seem to open my door and start my new job?
“Is this a mistake, Mom?” I asked, staring at the fieldhouse.
I’d spent a lot of time talking to Mom over the years. If I listened hard enough, she always found a way to respond.
The engine was still running when a figure appeared at the hood of my truck.
Ford stared at me, eyebrows raised. Then he jerked his chin for me to get out.
So I got out.
“Morning,” he said. “Strange to be here?”
“A little,” I admitted.
“Felt that way on my first day too.” He clapped me on the shoulder, almost giving me a shove like he knew I needed it to put one foot in front of the other.
The next few hours went by in a blur of human resources paperwork and re-introductions to people I already knew and faces I’d seen as a student. Then Ford was leading me to my new office, flipping on the light.
“We’ve got a coaches meeting in thirty in the conference room. I’ll let you get settled in here. See you in a bit.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
“Ford,” he corrected.
“That’s going to take me a while.”
He chuckled, then ducked out.
I didn’t have much to unpack, but I set out my pictures and settled into my chair, seeing how it felt as a coach of the Treasure State University Wildcats.
Fuck me. I was a Wildcats coach.
I smiled so wide it pinched my cheeks.
“Coach.” A knock came at the door before a stream of guys filled my office.
“Hey.” I stood from my chair, grinning at the players who’d once been my teammates. Guys who’d been freshmen and sophomores.
One of them, the starting punter, began a slow clap. “Coach. Coach. Coach. Coach.”
The chanting got louder. Faster. Until all of them were practically yelling as they cheered.
“Coach! Coach! Coach! Coach!”
I laughed. I laughed until my sides ached.
All right, Mom. I hear you.
Loud and clear.
Two years later . . .
“Maverick.” Stevie’s nails bit into my shoulders as she wrapped her legs around my waist, her pussy fluttering around my cock.
No matter how many times I heard my name in that breathy gasp, how many times I lost myself inside her body, it would never be enough.
“You feel so damn good.” I pounded inside of her, my hips rolling with every stroke.
“Harder.”
Fuck. Yes. When my wife gave me an order in the bedroom, I listened.
She raised her arms, pressing her palms flat against the headboard as I pistoned harder. Faster.
“I’m going to come.” She whimpered her warning, then shattered, her back arching as she cried out and pulsed around my length.
I only managed a few more thrusts before the build at the base of my spine was too much, until every muscle was clenched, stars burst behind my eyes, and I came on a roar, pouring inside of her as I came apart.
We collapsed in a heap of sweaty limbs and pounding hearts.
The pillows were gone, scattered somewhere on the floor. So were the blankets. It didn’t matter. She curled into my side, tangling her naked body with mine.
“Three times?” I panted, tracing a circle on her lower back. “Something you need to tell me?”
“I don’t know.” She bit her lip, lifting to stare at me.
“Do you have one?”
She nodded.
“Then go pee on a stick.” I swatted her bare ass.
She giggled, untangling our legs so she could scramble out of bed. She pushed her long hair off her forehead as she tiptoed into the bathroom, closing the door.
The last time she’d wanted sex three times in one night, she’d been pregnant with Swayze.
I rolled for the nightstand, clicking on the baby monitor. My boy was sound asleep in his crib, bundled in a sleep sack with his tiny fists raised above his head.
He slept like his mother.
And he looked like me.
Maybe that would change in time. He was only eighteen months old. But he had my eyes and my mouth. Dad had found some old baby pictures, and when you put Swayze’s against mine, they were almost identical.
Maybe our next would take after Stevie.
God, I hoped she was pregnant. It wasn’t something we’d planned, and though the idea was just minutes old, I wanted it.
I jackknifed to a seat, getting out of the bed. When I opened the door to the bathroom, Stevie was tying a robe around her waist.
“Should we set a timer?” I pulled her back into my chest, staring at the white stick on the counter.
“Probably.”
But neither of us moved. We stood there, staring at that stick.
“If it’s a girl, we’re naming her Meredith,” Stevie said.
She’d said the same when she was pregnant with Swayze.
When we’d been in this same bathroom, staring at a different white stick. Waiting until the tiny screen showed a single word.
Pregnant.
Eight months later . . .
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked Stevie.
“I’m fine.” She frowned. “Go. Coach. And for the love of all things, stop hovering.”
That was never going to happen. Certainly not when she was nine months pregnant, two days past her due date and hadn’t been feeling well all day. “Are you sure you’re—”
“If you ask me one more time if I’m sure I’m okay, I’m going to scream.”
“Do you think it’s contractions?”
“Maverick.” Her nostrils flared.
I’d learned a long time ago nothing good happened when Stevie’s nostrils flared.
“Okay.” I backed away from my very pregnant, very irritable wife, and held up my hands. “I love you.”
She sighed, rubbing her belly. “I love you too. Now, go away.”
I risked a kiss on her cheek, then bolted before I could piss her off. Again.
“Uncle Mav.” Bodhi tossed me his basketball, getting into position for a layup drill.
I bounce-passed it to him, then took position beneath the basket for any stray rebounds as the rest of his team lined up to shoot before the game.
Basketball wasn’t my best sport, but I’d been the assistant coach to Bodhi’s club team for years. Ever since Mom had died. The head coach just kept asking if I’d help, and since it was special time with Bodhi, I always said yes. Even when I didn’t have much free time, I loved this team of middle schoolers.
Bodhi would be playing for the Oaks as soon as he was in high school, and I wouldn’t be on the bench with him any longer. I’d be in the stands with Mabel and Kai and Stevie and Dad, cheering him on from afar.
But not this year. Not yet.
Stevie was sitting in the second row of the bleachers, beside Mabel. She was smiling and talking, but there was a strain to her features. She kept rubbing her side. Swayze was with Dad on the opposite side of the gym, running the length of the baseline, laughing and squealing when Dad would give chase.
Everything was probably fine. Stevie would tell me if there was a problem.
Except that niggling worry only seemed to get worse through the first quarter. Each time I glanced to the crowd, Stevie looked worse. Her face was pale, her jaw tight like she was in pain.
We were crushing the other team. The score was twenty to zero. But one of their guards dribbled down the court as the clock ticked toward zero, and right as the buzzer blared, he launched the basketball from the three-point line.
Swish.
Their side of the stands erupted. One of the grandparents raised an airhorn above her head and let it rip, the sound so loud she received glares from everyone, her side and ours alike.
But that horn was like a slap to the face.
“All right, Mom,” I said under my breath. “I hear you.”
It took only a minute for me to let the head coach know I was taking Stevie to the hospital. I squeezed Bodhi’s shoulders, told him good job, then jogged across the gym.
“Come on,” I told Stevie.
She didn’t argue. “Swayze.”
He was still chasing around the gym with Dad.
“We’ve got him,” Mabel said. “Call me.”
I nodded, helping Stevie down the stairs. Then we were rushing out the doors for the parking lot.
“Something doesn’t feel right.” She stared at me, those beautiful hazel eyes full of worry.
“It’ll be okay.” I kissed her hand, keeping it locked in mine as we strode for our new SUV.
I hit the locks, opened the door, just as Stevie gasped. “What?”
Her eyes blew wide, then pointed to her legs.
To the water seeping through her leggings.
“Okay, so maybe I’m having contractions.”
“You think?” I exhaled, a bit of fear vanishing as I hauled her in for a quick kiss.
Then I drove my wife to the hospital.
And eight hours later, I sat in a chair while Stevie rested. Holding my daughter, Meredith Mae Houston, in my arms.
Five months later . . .
There were three people and four stuffed animals in my bed. Swayze had brought all of his pets with him when he’d joined us around midnight. Meredith was too little for stuffies, but my baby girl had a sixth sense for when her parents fell asleep.
It wasn’t easy to sleep when a squirmy two-year-old pressed his feet into your spine, but somehow, I’d managed to drift off after Swayze had finally settled in the middle of our bed.
Meredith’s cries had rung through the monitor moments later.
I should have stayed in her room, rocked her back to sleep. But I’d been so damn tired I’d brought her to our bed too and let her sleep on my chest.
Stevie had her now, tucked into a crook of her arm. Swayze was sideways, taking up the majority of the king-size mattress.
I shifted him around, making sure all his pets were close as he drooled on my pillow. Then I rounded the bed and brushed a kiss to Stevie’s forehead.
She hummed, not opening her eyes. “Are you leaving?”
“Yeah. Be back in a bit.”
“Love you.”
“I love you too, honey.” I kissed her again, then smoothed Meredith’s chocolate hair—her mother’s hair—off her face.
On silent feet, I made my way through the dark house to the garage.
It was four thirty in the morning, but the long summer days of Montana meant the soft yellow light of dawn was already cresting the mountain horizon. The streets of Mission were quiet, like they usually were on Saturday mornings at this hour. I yawned every few minutes on my drive to the fieldhouse, and when I pulled into the lot, there was only one other vehicle waiting.
Rush was just closing his door when I parked.
“Hey.” I slung my backpack over my shoulder and fell in step beside him as we walked for the door.
“Morning.” He yawned. “I’m beat.”
“Same.”
It would be easy to turn around, go home and go back to bed. But we kept walking, into the gym and weight room, where we spent an hour working out together, just like we had all those years ago when we’d lived together. Played together.
Now we worked together.
Rush had just moved back to Mission after retiring from the NFL. He’d joined the coaching staff, and now I got to work with my oldest friend each day.
Yeah, we could have just worked out over lunch. But this was what Rush and I did. We met at dawn, at this fieldhouse, and though we didn’t talk much while we worked out, we showed up for each other.
And by the time we left, we were both wide awake.
“What are you guys up to today?” he asked, putting on a pair of shades.
“I don’t know. Stevie’s swamped at Adair, so she mentioned maybe going into the office for a while this afternoon to catch up. I need to mow the lawn. I’ll probably take the kids to the grocery store. You?”
“Faye was talking about heading into the mountains. Going for a drive or something. Find a spot for a picnic where the kids can chase around and get dirty.”
“That sounds nice.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Tomorrow?”
“I’ll be here.”
We shared a wave, then went our separate directions.
I needed a shower. I had my own list of stuff to do. But my truck seemed to steer itself into the drive-through at McDonald’s. And when I got home, I didn’t take the food inside. I found Stevie in the living room, cartoons playing for Swayze as she fed Meredith a bottle.
“I want to do something this morning,” I told her, shutting off the TV. “Will you come with me?”
“Sure.” She gave me a strange glance but didn’t ask questions. She just pulled on a sweatshirt and shoes, then helped me load up the kids. Helped Swayze with his breakfast as we drove through town.
Stevie might not be great at spontaneity, but she rolled with mine.
And she realized, soon enough, where we were going.
The minute I turned off the highway, onto a gravel road that wound into the mountains, her hand stretched across the console, reaching for mine.
She held tight all the way to Mom’s meadow.
I hadn’t been here since we’d scattered her ashes years ago. And if asked, I wouldn’t be able to explain why I wanted to visit today. It just seemed . . . important.
“Where dis, Daddy?” Swayze asked as I took him out of his car seat, letting him look around.
I crouched in front of him, brushing a crumb from his breakfast off his cheek. “This is one of my Top Five favorite spots.”
He took my hand as I led him toward the meadow, but he didn’t hang on for long, letting go to explore.
Yellow and white flowers dotted the green grass. The scents of pine and wind and earth filled my nose.
It took him less than a minute to find a rock he could throw. “Wook it, Mommy!”
He tossed it forward, the rock landing a couple feet ahead. Then he picked up a stick with one hand and frowned at the mud the rock had left behind on the other.
Stevie came to my side, carrying Meredith.
I stole my daughter, holding her in one arm as the other wrapped around Stevie’s shoulders.
“You okay?” she asked.
I rested my chin on the top of her head as I looked across the meadow. To the cloudless blue sky. “Never better.”
Seven years later . . .
The field at the stadium was teeming with kids. More kids than I’d ever seen at the annual Wildcats coaches’ flag football game.
Between all of us coaches and our families, we had enough people for four teams, not just two. Especially now that most of the kids were getting older.
We used to have a few babysitters on hand to watch the little ones, but there weren’t any babies, not anymore.
All of the kids were dressed, coated in sunscreen and ready to play.
Coach Ford Ellis’s End Zoners versus Coach Toren Greely’s Grid Irons.
This game had remained unchanged for over a decade. There were enough changes on the horizon for the Wildcats football program, it was comforting to leave this tradition untouched.
We’d pick teams, wives and kids always getting priority. Then we’d play for a couple hours before an afternoon barbeque under the brilliant blue Montana sky.
This game had become a favorite tradition for my family. Stevie was sitting on the turf beside Jennsyn, stretching as they talked. Swayze was playing catch with Rally, both boys counting as they made catches without a drop. And Meredith was dancing around with the other girls, singing along to the music blasting through the sound system.
“I forgot the first-aid kit in my office,” Rush said, coming to stand at my side. “Think we’ll need it?”
“Hope not.”
“Well, I guess if we do, I’ll run back and get it.” He surveyed the crowd, eyes crinkling at the sides as he smiled. “I love this game.”
“So do I.” Of all the games we’d played, coached, this was always my favorite every year.
It should be a fun time for all of us, except Ford and Toren were standing together, expressions too serious. They’d both been off since we’d arrived with tight smiles and hushed conversations.
“What’s that about?” I asked Rush.
“No idea.”
Ford and Toren spotted us, then shared a look that made my stomach sink before they walked our way.
We’d all worked together for years. We’d become friends. A family of our own.
I knew when news wasn’t the good kind.
“Before we start today, we wanted to talk to you both,” Ford said. “We, uh, wanted to ask you both to take over today. As captains.”
“Absolutely not.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
Rush hooked his thumb my way. “What he said.”
“Hold up. Don’t just say no,” Ford said. “Let us explain.”
“It’s time to have someone else take over this game,” Toren said. “With my change in jobs, Ford’s retirement, we thought it best you both step in as leads. Carry on the tradition.”
Ford had one more month left on his contract, then he’d no longer be the head coach of the Wildcats football program. He wanted to have his weekends free to watch his boys play their own football games. His daughter, Joey, was getting married in the fall.
He was ready for Saturdays to be his own. To cheer on Rush, as he took over as head coach, and me, as I filled Toren’s shoes as defensive coordinator.
Millie, Ford’s wife, was taking over as the athletics director, overseeing the entire program. And she’d asked Toren to step in to her former role, helping make sure every sport at Treasure State had the resources needed to succeed.
I still hadn’t wrapped my brain around it all. I couldn’t imagine standing on the sidelines without Ford and Toren nearby.
So I sure as hell didn’t see the need to fuck with the annual coaches game.
“Hard pass,” I said at the same time Rush told them, “No, thanks.”
Ford frowned. “At some point, someone else needs to take my place.”
“Not this year.” Rush clapped him on the shoulder, then left our huddle, walking over to where Faye was taking a picture of the kids playing.
“Mav.” Toren held out a whistle. It was pink, the same color as the T-shirts for his team.
Ford’s team wore yellow.
“That belongs around your neck.” I winked, then walked away to find Stevie.
She was rifling through the backpack we’d brought, fishing out a bottle of sunscreen.
I wrapped her up, copping a feel of her ass through the shorts she’d worn today.
“What was that about?” she asked, pointing to where Ford and Toren were, begrudgingly, putting on their whistles, though both were trying to hide a smile.
“Ford and Toren are trying to have Rush and me take over as captains for today.”
“And?”
“I said no.”
“Good.” She lifted on her toes to kiss the corner of my mouth. “I love you.”
“Love you too.” I held her tight for a long moment, keeping her close. Then I let her go so she could douse our children with a second coat of sunscreen before the game.
I watched her walk away, hair swishing down her spine, a breathtaking smile on her face. And then I tipped my face to the sky.
“Thanks, Mom,” I whispered.
Maybe Stevie and I would have found our way to each other without my mother’s interference. But I loved giving my mom credit for the gifts in my life.
For my beautiful wife. My incredible children.
For a Saturday at the Treasure State Wildcats stadium, playing football with my friends. My family.
“Ready, Daddy?” Meredith came over, slipping her hand in mine.
I smiled down at her, at the girl who looked so much like her namesake. “Let’s make the most of it, baby girl.”
