Page 28 of Ready to Score

All three pairs of eyes cut across the field to where Port Royal was doing their stretches on the away side of the field.

“Hmmm.” Franny’s tone was noncommittal.

“They can’t beat us.” Jade’s words were so strong and sure, Franny had no choice but to believe her.

Landry’s mouth curved into the tiniest smile, his eyes fiery. “How do you figure?”

“They don’t want it like we want it,” Jade said. “They don’t need it.”

Franny nodded so much, her baseball cap almost popped off. “Look at them. This doesn’t mean shit to them. Their coach is over there sitting pretty. He’s got years left under his belt. There’s no fire in him. The kids know it.”

“And we’ve got fire in us?” Landry asked.

“Enough to tear all this shit up, sir,” Jade damn near snarled.

The words made Franny’s heart pound. Half because it was, unfortunately, wildly sexy to hear the other woman so worked up, and half because she was right. There was no way they were losing this. There was no convincing her otherwise.

Landry stared Franny down for a few moments before crossing his arms over his broad chest. For a second, she thought he was going to tell her to go home. Her breath hitched with anticipation.

“Why don’t you come over here with the other coaches on the sideline,” he said. “Let’s see how you interact with everybody in a game setting.”

Franny heard Jade suck in a breath of her own, but it was completely drowned out by the blood rushing to Franny’s head and making her ears feel fuzzy.

“S-sure,” she stuttered out, running to catch up as the duo walked away but making sure she walked on the other side of Landry instead of behind him.

The energy was even more palpable closer to the field. Franny was welcomed with a few kind smiles and nods, but her presence wasn’t treated like any kind of anomaly. All it did was bolster her. If she wouldn’t have felt so silly doing it, she might have puffed her chest out because of all the pride swelling up inside it.

Twenty minutes later, they were set to begin. Franny had watched Landry put together his starting lineup with precision. Eleven boys started on the field, a showing of all different types of players who served various purposes at various levels.

She eyed the boys on the bench and sidelines, not spotting a single angry or jealous expression. Most of them were homed in, ready to make magic happen. Jaxon Myers—the kicker—was near the watercooler having a conversation with Alonzo Holton, who played left tackle on the O-line. Whatever they were talking about seemed to be serious from the way Alonzo’s shoulders slumped more and more by the second. She couldn’t see his face, but his body language toldher that someone needed to see what was up. All the actual coaches were busy elsewhere, so she made the executive decision to run over to them.

“Everything all right, boys? The game’s starting soon. Where are your heads at?”

Neither of them said a word, but Jaxon spared a long glance at Alonzo, who had his chin tucked into his chest.

“Hey,” Franny said softly, moving closer to the boy. “Alonzo, is everything okay? Has something happened? You aren’t hurt, are you?”

It was a lot of questions all at once, she knew, but their silence was making her worried. After the silence stretched on for a few more long moments, Jaxon finally spoke up.

“His dad is sick. He had to go to the hospital last night.”

“Jax, what the hell!” Alonzo was incensed.

“Hey! None of that language.” She slipped into her teacher tone instinctively. “Jaxon is just trying to help.”

“Well, he’s not.”

“Do you… want to tell me what happened?”

Alonzo heaved a big sigh, the pads under his uniform puffing out with his breath. “My pops had a heart attack last night.”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry. Is he—”

“He’s alive.” The words were choked and garbled coming from the boy’s mouth. “But he could barely talk when I saw him this morning.”

“Alonzo, why are you here? You should be with your family.”

“I said the same thing!” Jaxon interjected. “He said he didn’t want to let the team down.”

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