Page 62 of Redemption
“You are. We are going to practice having a better attitude.” Hayes’s answering grin is so bright that even I want to smack him. Although, it’s nice to know he’s good at pushing other people’s buttons, not just mine.
“No way, man,” Tanner says, crossing his arms and standing tall. When he does that, he’s almost the same height as Hayes, but where Tanner is all boy, Hayes is hard lines and masculine. “I came here to practice—not whatever this is.”
The smile drops from Hayes’s face and becomes stone. No wonder he’s a good cop. Most criminals would turn themselves in from that face alone.
“I’ll tell you like I told you at the game. The way I see it, you have two options. One, walk out that gate,” Hayes says, dipping his head towards the gate that leads to the parking lot. “If you walk out that gate, though, you’re done. You won’t be on my team. Your second option is to realize that you and I are on thesame team. We both want what’s best for you. It’s up to you to decide which option you choose.”
I hold my breath, biting the inside of my jaw while I wait for Tanner to walk away—to take the option that’s easier for him—but Tanner clenches his jaw and remains standing in front of Hayes, making his choice clear.
The air rushes out of my lungs, relief flooding me.
We can’t fail this kid.
He’s been in my office almost every day with a headache. I’ve attempted to reach out to his mom to express my concern, but she waved me off like it was no big deal.
Tanner deserves someone who cares about him.
“Right,” Hayes says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get started then. Here are my rules—no partying, drinking, or smoking. I’ve already said that on the first day of practice, but you seem to have a hard time listening when I speak. So, I’m going to reiterate that. You are automatically off the team if I catch you doing any of those. MJ says you’ve been experiencing headaches. If those continue, I am the first to know. We are going to keep a log of how often they are happening. This last one is the most important, though—you can trust me. But I also realize I haven’t earned that yet, so I’m asking that we earn each other’s trust. You don’t do anything to break mine, and I won’t break yours either. Football is just a game to me, La—Tanner. I care more about the person you are. Do you understand?”
Even though he caught himself, the slip of almost saying Langston’s name makes this real for me. We are doing this again—trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.
Tanner’s eyes dart around the field, searching for a way to escape this, but finds none. “Fine.”
“Good. Now, that’s the second time I’ve seen you throw your equipment around. So, let’s start there. I had the other boys droptheir helmets off after the game. For the rest of this practice, we are scrubbing helmets.”
“This is bull—” Tanner starts, but Hayes slices him with a glare, and he pinches his lips together.
For the next hour and a half, we scrub helmets until they gleam and my fingers ache.
Hayes doesn’t make Tanner do it alone. We do it together, working side by side.
“How’s school going, Tanner?” I ask, trying to strike up a conversation.
He shrugs. I try again.
“Are you liking your classes?”
Another shrug. “School is school.”
I meet Hayes’s eyes and tilt my head toward Tanner. He widens his, silently asking me what I want him to do.
I swear, I think men are intentionally obtuse sometimes.
“You know,” I say, scrubbing at a grass stain on one of the white helmets, “I used to help my brother do this when we were in school. He taught me everything I know.”
Beside me, Hayes scoffs.
“Got something to say, Coach?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow.
A spark of humor flits through Hayes’s gaze, something we haven’t shared in a long time.
“Just that I think your memory is a little lacking when it comes to who taught you everything. Langston might have taught you some things, but not everything.”
Tanner stops scrubbing and studies me. “Wait, your brother was Langston Harrison?”
The hero-worship in his voice is clear, and it makes me uneasy. It’s not that I don’t want people to remember Langston, but I hate that his memory is wrapped up in the two worst things about him—football and his death.
When people remember him, they only remember his football career or how he died—never the person he was.
