Double Bossed

“Woohooo!”

I grinned. This was the first time in almost four years working at the school that I could remember every single child on the field working together toward one goal.

It was enlightening and heartwarming. I wished I could capture it and save it forever. I realized I could. I ran to my office, grabbed my cell phone, and raced back to the rear exit. I pressed record as the boys passed the field goal posts. The rest of the team jumped and cheered for them. They had less than twenty yards left to go. I followed them all the way, capturing each and every moment until the very end. When I panned out, I caught Kane Hawkins staring directly at me with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His eyes locked onto mine. I could feel the heat in his gaze from across the field.

I wanted to run from him. I wanted to turn and shut the door behind me, locking it soundly afterward. But I couldn?

?t move. I was held immobile by his tranquilizing stare. Chills broke out along the flesh of my arms, traveling upward to my chest. My nipples hardened and I shivered.

I fucking shivered from the top of my head to the bottoms of my feet.

One look.

That was all it took, and I knew that if I let that man get his hands on me again I would never be the same.

So why did I have to fight every single muscle in my body to get it to turn and walk inside instead of back across the field to his side?

11

Kane

After a week of volunteering at the center, I started to realize the impact I had on the kids. It was kicking my ass splitting up my time between the Sharks and the kids, but I had a sudden need for both.

Julie hadn’t made things any easier. Every time I saw her all I could think about was the night at the back of Catch. But she wouldn’t let me get close to her.

A bell rang in the distance and at least two dozen kids started to rush the field. I watched as Hunter melted into the background, not wanting to be a part of the group.

For some reason, it bothered me. I’d observed it for days. They were like a pack of dogs, picking on the puppy. If I had a few minutes alone with Hunter, he wasn’t that shy. I’d gotten to know the kid. But as soon as the older kids showed up, he retreated faster than a guy on special teams trying to dodge a tackle.

One of the older kids picked up the discarded football and the children started to sort teams. I strolled over to Hunter and waited for him to make eye contact with me.

“Why are you not over there playing?” I asked him.

“They don’t like it when I play.” His voice was quiet. I wanted to wipe the smudge of dirt from his cheek but I stuffed my hands in my pockets. I knew he had a no-contact policy.

“Why not?”

“Because they said only kids with families should play. No one is going to come see me play so there is no point.”

“The little shits said that?”

Truth was, I didn’t know Hunter’s story. Not all of it, anyway. But I wasn’t always the star quarterback. I didn’t always play in the AFA. I had a past. One I wasn’t proud of. Only that I had survived it.

Hunter’s eyes widened.

“Sorry. Language.” I shrugged. “Don’t tell Miss Bristow.”

He smiled lightly.

“Let’s go. If you want to play, you’re getting in that game.” I almost slung my arm around his shoulder.

“No it’s ok, really. I don’t mind not playing.”

“Well, I only play with the best so unless you come, I’m not playing.” I smirked. All week, I had been tossing with him. I’d never seen so much natural talent.

“Really? You think I’m good?”

“Damn straight kid, now let’s go.”