Page 100 of Redemption
I shake my head, denying it, as much to myself as to him. “Life changes. We aren’t in that place anymore.”
The laugh that Campbell lets out isn’t unexpected, but it startles me all the same. “You keep telling yourself that.”
“Busybody,” I mutter, turning back to Hayes, whose gaze is still on me. The weight of it is like lead sitting in my stomach, weighing me down with all the truths that Campbell just poked into.
The corner of Hayes’s lips lifts, offering me a soft smile. When I return it, he turns his attention back to his team with a new look in his eyes.
Kindness.
That’s what plays on his lips and lightens up his eyes now.
“Gentlemen,” Hayes says, looking out over each one of his players. He takes his time, making sure to meet each of their stares. “Raise your hand if you think being successful this year means winning games?”
There are murmurs through the crowd of boys as each player puts their hand in the air, raising them high.
“Now raise your hand if you think your worth on this football team is determined by how many quarters you play?”
The hands stay in the air. Boys look around, seeing who else is holding their hand up.
Hayes grunts.
“You can put your hands down. I have said it before, but I’ll say it again. My mission this year is not to win games. I’ll be fine if we lose every game this season. But I won’t be fine if you leave my team and don’t understand that your worth is more than a game—that your stories are more than football. ” Hayes pauses, looking around the crowd and letting his words settle over them, “That building behind you is a shelter. We are going to serve food to the residents tonight. Here’s my challenge to you—don’t leave here without getting to know someone’s story from inside that building because the thing is, we all have stories, and they are made outside of the football field.”
Silence, heavy and thick, meets Hayes’s words as each boy takes in the building we are standing in front of. Even for teenagers, it’s a sobering thought walking into a place and learning the stories of people whose lives have taken them in directions they never prepared for.
One by one, they start to file into the building, following the other coaches. I hang back, looking for Tanner in the crowd. He’s toward the back, still wearing that anger from earlier like a weight around his neck, but mixed in with that anger is a sadness that snuffs the light out of his eyes.
With my attention on Tanner, I don’t notice when Hayes shuffles in beside me. He places his hand on my back to lead me inside, and I try not to shiver as the heat of his hand bleeds through my t-shirt.
Hayes leans down, his breath hot against my skin, and he whispers, “I don’t think friends look at each other the way you were looking at me back there.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking—”
His lips brush against my cheek, stopping my words and my heart. “Deny it all you want to, MJ, but I was looking at you the same way.”
He pulls away, giving me a grin that is made of trouble, and when it’s our turn to go in, he holds the door open for me. I walk ahead of him, and he reaches out, letting his fingers trace down my arm as I walk past him.
I keep my back straight and head high, not letting him see how much he affects me, but the deep chuckle that follows is all the evidence I need to know that he knows anyway.
The inside of the building is just as battered as the neighborhood outside. Outdated wallpaper hangs on the wall, ripped in some places, and the ceiling tiles are stained where water has leaked through. But despite the appearance of the building, it’s the people my eyes are drawn to.
Guilt pokes at my chest as I take them in because the people in front of me—the ones who are here because they have no homes or food—all wear smiles on their faces.
They are happy in a place where you wouldn’t think happiness could exist.
A loud laugh comes from the center of the group.
I know that laugh.
My shoulders flinch, and I dunk down to hide behind the person in front of me, which, unfortunately, happens to be Tanner. He turns his head over his shoulder, giving me a funny look, but doesn’t move.
Thank goodness for small miracles.
I’m taking it as proof he doesn’t hate me entirely.
Flashing him an awkward smile, I pray he holds still.
Hayes steps closer to me, and I grab the front of his t-shirt, yanking him down so he’s hiding with me.
