Page 206 of The Sweetest Return

I looked at Imani, at her bare feet tucked near my thigh, at the quiet cabin, at the night pressing against the windows.

“No. I can talk.”

“How’s the knee?”

“Same as last week. Better than last year.”

“I’ll take that.”

“How you doing?”

“Mad as hell after Sunday.”

“That makes two of us.”

He grunted. “You watched?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“You want my honest answer?”

“I didn’t call for your pretty one.”

“The backs don’t trust what they’re seeing,” I said. “The line ain’t giving them much, but they’re making it worse. Too much bouncing. Bad landmarks. Protection’s late. They look like they’re thinking instead of playing.”

Coach Price went quiet.

“That’s what Darius said you’d say.”

“Darius talks too much.”

“He’s the quarterback. Unfortunately, that’s part of the job.”

Imani smiled faintly and looked away, giving me the privacy of pretending not to listen.

Coach Price cleared his throat. “Vic and I had a long conversation this morning.”

Vic Hamlin was the running backs coach.

Good man. Wrong fit. He loved the room, but sometimes love turned into speeches when players needed tools.

“About?”

“Moving him into a different role.”

I said nothing.

“The guys have been saying it for a year,” Coach continued. “They felt the difference when you were around. They said you were the reason that room held together after your injury.”

My hand tightened around the phone.

“I was just helping.”

“No,” Coach said. “You were coaching. You just didn’t want to call it that.”

The plane dipped slightly, beginning its slow descent toward Pittsburgh.