Page 69

MOM: But you can hug your brother for your sick mother.

You’re kind of evil, you know that, right?

MOM: But are you going to hug him?

Yes, Mom, I’ll hug him.

MOM: Thank you, baby boy.

You’re welcome.

Music blasted from the locker room, making it impossible for me to knock to get anyone’s attention. As a personal rule, I tried to avoid the locker room. While I had no intention of telling anyone that I was gay, if it did come out, I didn’t want anyone to be uncomfortable—particularly the players I was working so hard to build trust with.

And selfishly, it made it easier to avoid Theo as he changed. I didn’t need the image of him half-naked following me into a game.

Unfortunately, it was inevitable as their pre-game chaos continued past the time I’d asked them to be dressed and outside for me to talk to. I knocked a few times, but no one heard me. I pushed open the door to find Theo, Jude, and Wyatt standing on one of the benches as they belted out a song with the rest of the team. They were practically holding a concert right there in the locker room, but I couldn’t bring myself to be upset. The energy was high and full of excitement, which was exactly what they needed.

Propping the door open with my foot, I leaned against the frame with my arms crossed and let them have their moment. I could afford them a few more minutes of feel-good chaos before they had to focus on the game.

And I used the few minutes to watch Theo. Not because he was the loudest—Wyatt probably held that title—but because the focus of the room seemed to gravitate to him. He so naturally held everyone’s attention as he bounced from teammate to teammate, laughing and pointing dramatically at whoever had forgotten the lyrics. My gaze traced the curve of his smile and got stuck on those dimples I liked so goddamn much.

“Coach K!” Dino hollered, his voice loud as the song ended and ripped me away from my admiration.

“Brother Coach!” Jude echoed, throwing his arms up in excitement. The fast action threw him off balance and sent him reeling backward. He almost toppled off the bench, but Theo and Wyatt grabbed him. All three of them almost fell, and I shook my head. The last thing I needed was my best players to break something over a dance party.

Laughter, shouting, and an attempt to turn on another song filled the air.

“All right! Let’s quiet down!” I bellowed. “Turn that off! We’ve got shit to talk about before we go out there!”

That single sentence turned the mood in the locker room. The music disappeared, and all eyes landed on me. I took a few steps to the side and shut the door as I tried to ensure everyone could see me.

“Can everyone hear me okay?” I asked. The locker room wasn’t the ideal place for this speech, but it was fine. I could meet them where they were at if it kept us on schedule.

“Unfortunately,” Jude retorted with a laugh. I flipped him off because I could. Some of my coach’s decorum got tossed aside where he was concerned.

“Now, I’m going to tell you something none of you want to hear,” I began, crossing my arms. My gaze drifted over the lot of them with their mixture of serious and curious expressions. “Something will go wrong today.”

That was enough to make them glance at each other with silent questioning. This wasn’t the speech they wanted to hear, especially after the hard first game they’d had, but I had it planned out. Sometimes a moment of honesty meant more than dozens of words of encouragement.

“You’re going to miss a block or drop a pass,” I continued. “You’ll miss a tackle or the refs will make a call you hate. The crowd will be loud, they’ll try to antagonize you, they’ll judge you, and you know what? They’ll be outright assholes sometimes too. And you know what? That’s football.”

I gave it a moment to let my words sink in. I wanted to make sure they heard me—truly heard me.

“The best teams aren’t the ones that don’t make mistakes. In fact, the ones that boast they don’t are fucking lying to you. The best teams are the ones that go out there and recover faster than everybody else.” I gestured in the general direction of the field. “When something goes wrong out there… get out of your head. Reset and move on to the next play. One bad play won’t lose a football game, but letting one bad play become five will. So, just let it go, reset, and keep playing.”

I glanced around. Their silence was uncharacteristic as they clung to my every word—something I was grateful for.

“And look,” I said, “I know most of you are still carrying the weight of last week’s game. I want you to leave it here in the locker room. Don’t carry that out onto that field. I don’t care if you had the game of your life or the worst game you’ve ever played. Neither one of those earns you a damn thing today.”

“Then what does?” Wyatt asked.

“What matters is what you accomplish today in the game. Every pass, every block, every tackle… that’s what matters,” I replied. “And I want you to listen to me: if you have a bad game tonight… good.”

The confused expressions I expected. I knew I sounded crazy to them. What coach went out of their way to make a bad game okay, let alone a good thing?

“I don’t say it because I want you to fail,” I reassured them. “But I want you to understand that one bad game—or even two or three—doesn’t define a football player. It never has. We all have bad games. What defines you as a player is what you do after. Do you blame someone else? Do you let that mistake become all you focus on? Or do you get your ass back up off the ground, learn from it, and show up again next week ready to put the work in?”

I paused once more, giving them a chance to process what I was saying. My hope was that they’d learn to go easier on themselves. Mistakes were guaranteed. There was no getting around that. I didn’t want to become the coach who penalized them for being human.