Rough Love (Tannen Boys 1)

Mike scoffs. “And today. Not many would’ve stopped to help Cooper, and even fewer would’ve helped with practice the way you did.”

“That kid’s got a mouth. He might’ve earned a little bit of that. But just a little.” I hold my thumb and finger up an inch apart. “The rest was uncalled for.”

“Agreed. So, about that . . . about practice . . .” Mike pauses, looking at me curiously. “Like I said, I’m here for Evan, but I’m just the best they got out of a nonexistent pile of options. A couple of the boys don’t have dads for various reasons. Killian lives with his grandparents, and the ones with two parents didn’t have anyone else step up to coach.” He chuckles. “Not sure if that says Jamie’s got me whipped or what because here I am.”

He holds his hands out wide and then places them on his hips. “What I’m trying to say is . . . you interested in being an assistant coach? I could sure use the help, and the boys could use the expertise.”

I shake my head no on autopilot, without even thinking it over for a second. “I don’t think so. That ain’t me. I’m no coach.”

Mike’s grin and bark of laughter are ones of disbelief. “Pretty sure there are twelve boys who’d disagree with you on that. Think it over. You don’t have to answer now. Here’s my number.” He reaches down to his bag, pulling out a piece of paper and scribbling his information down. I take it, slipping it into my back pocket. It feels heavy with possibility.

Could I? Should I?

“You’d have to pass the background check and be listed on the roster or they won’t let you on the sidelines at the games, but we can do that quickly. Plenty of time before the first game. Practices are here on Tuesdays and Thursdays at seven, Saturday mornings at ten, and the first game is several weeks away. We could use you, man. For all of it, any of it, whatever you’re willing to volunteer for.” He holds his hand out once more and I shake it firmly.

“Thank you, Mike. Truly. I’ll think about it.”

And I do. All the way home, down the paved asphalt of town, to the dirt of our driveway. I sit in the truck, not getting out and thinking.

I don’t hear him coming, but the air is disturbed for a moment before the passenger door opens and Brody climbs in, slamming the door behind him.

“What are we doing?” he says casually. We both know there’s nothing casual about his question.

“Thinking,” I answer drolly. His quirked eyebrow says that’s not enough, not nearly enough. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel. “Helped with a kids’ football practice tonight. Coach asked me to come back and help again.”

I don’t think I could’ve surprised him more if I’d said I found a goose laying golden eggs and a giant beanstalk in town. “How the fuck did that happen?”

I relate the story of seeing the boys getting after Cooper and finish with Mike asking me to help.

Brody rubs at his bottom lip with his thumb, humming to himself. “You’re thinking about doing it.”

It’s not a question. I see a lot, am observant to a fault, but Brody knows us all better than we know ourselves. He knows that football was always mine, my way of dealing with anything and everything. “You’d be good at it,” he adds.

It’s a rousing stamp of approval from my stoic brother. He might as well be waving pom-poms around and cheering like some shit-bad cheerleader.

“I’m thinking about it,” I concede. It’s all I can give for now. Changing the subject, I tease out how much trouble I’m in. “What was Shay’s big news, and how mad is she that I didn’t show?”

Brody takes his hat off, rolling the brim in his hands and sighing. “Another trip. Fuck, you know I love our sister dearly, would kill for her, but I really don’t need to hear about every single pin she’s sticking on her map. It’s not even a big one! They’re going to south Texas, for fuck’s sake. As for you, she’ll make you pay. No mistaking that.”

He’s right, but I don’t mind. Tonight was interesting and different, and I can take Shay’s punishment with one hand tied behind my back.

Chapter 3

Allyson

“And then Coach B and Coach Mike had us doing fast feet drills up and down the field,” Cooper says excitedly, demonstrating by tap-dancing his feet across the wood floor of our rental house in town.

I smile. At least I think I do, but truthfully, I’ve only had one sip of coffee so far and I’m not firing on all cylinders yet. I wish Cooper would sleep in just a little later on the weekends, but I try to remind myself that too soon, he’ll be a teenager who sleeps all day and I should enjoy his early morning energy. Maybe even suck a little bit of it up for myself.