Page 153 of The Coach

“Uh-huh,” I mutter, kicking off my shoes.

My stepdad, Carl, is already in his recliner in the living room, flipping between channels. When he sees me, he points the remote at the TV.

“You watch that Stallions game yesterday?”

My stomach clenches, but I keep my voice casual. “Yeah, I caught some of it.”

“Damn shame. Bad calls. And that quarterback—he’s a hell of a player, but they need to get him better protection. That O-line is made of tissue paper.”

I nod, pretending to listen, even though my brain is spinning in circles. I sit down on the couch, rubbing my palms over my thighs.

Mom shoots me a look. “You okay? You seem tense.”

I exhale slowly.Now or never.

“I need to talk to you guys about something.”

That gets Carl’s attention. He mutes the TV, his expression shifting into something more serious.

“Alright,” he says, sitting up a little. “What’s going on?”

I swallow, gathering my courage.

“I’d like you to meet the father,” I say, my voice steady. “He’s coming here the weekend after next.”

The room goes silent.

Carl blinks. Mom juststares.

“Wait,what?” Mom says, her voice raising half an octave.

Carl leans forward, narrowing his eyes. “You’re telling me we’re finally meeting this mystery man? The guy who’s been MIA for months?” His voice is laced with accusation.

“He hasn’t beenMIA,” I say quickly. “Things were… complicated.”

Mom crosses her arms. “And now they’re not?”

I exhale, bracing myself. “They’re still complicated. But he wants to be involved. Heisinvolved. And I want you both to meet him.”

Carl is silent for a long moment.

Then, finally, he asks, “Does he know what he’s walking into?”

I hesitate. “What do you mean?”

Carl snorts, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, if this man thinks he’s just walking in here and shaking my hand like everything’s fine and dandy, he’s got another thing coming. I don’t mean to be rude but where thefuckhas he been?”

I resist the urge to groan.Of courseCarl is going full protective stepdad mode.

Mom places a hand on his arm. “Carl. You know what we talked about. We’re not going to badmouth him. Not yet, anyway.”

“No, no. I just think we need to ask some questions, that’s all.” He looks at me again. “What does he do for a living?”

I bite my lip.Shit.

“He, uh…he works insports.”

Carl raises an eyebrow. “Sports. The hell does that mean? He’s an athlete?”

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