Page 27 of Home Town Advantage
Daylen jogs back toward me and places his hands on his thighs, out of breath. “Sorry, man. Jagger’s boyfriend broke up with her last night. I was on the phone consoling her all night. She’s a mess. Little fucking prick broke her heart.”
Jagger is Daylen’s much younger sister. I think she’s around fifteen or sixteen now. His mother passed when he was young, and his father remarried a woman closer to our age than his. They had Jagger when Daylen was a teenager. Even though he only lived in the same house as Jagger for two years, he’s fiercely protective of and extremely close to her.
I nod in understanding. “Perhaps we should drive down and have a little chat with him.”
Daylen is originally from Maryland. His hometown is justunder two hours from Philly. It’s not unusual for us to pop in for a meal now and then.
He smiles. “Not a bad idea, McCaffrey. Should I text Ashleigh that we’re coming home for dinner tonight?”
I bite back my smile. “Doesn’t she prefer you to call herMom?” I happily joke.
His face falls. “She’s eight years older than me. I willnever evercall her Mom.”
I chuckle. He hates it when I rib him about Ashleigh. Shrugging, I say, “But you have to admit she’s a MILF.”
He gives me the finger before we go on to finish practice and sit in the hot tub to soak our sore muscles for a bit. Daylen is showing me a handful of pictures he took of his Doberman, BJ. It stands for Blackjackie, since the Doberman is black. Her original name was Blackjack because it took Daylen a month to figure out it was a female dog instead of a male. His inability to recognize his dog’s sex and her initials serve as endless fodder for obvious reasons.
Put mildly, he’s obsessed with his dog. He even FaceTimes BJ when we’re on the road so she can hear his voice.
We’re looking at photos of BJ swimming in Daylen’s pool when Coach Jeffries walks in. “Are you two studying the new plays I sent you?”
Daylen shakes his head. “Nope. BJ was practically doing laps in my pool last night. My princess has mad swimming skills. I’m showing Vance my bathing beauty. Do you want to see them too? I have photos from all angles.”
Coach rolls his eyes. “There are roughly three total photos of me from the entire year of 1991, yet you have a hundred of your mutt from yesterday.” He harrumphs. “Pft. Your generation and their photos. Always having the damn phones ready to snap away.”
Daylen twists his lips. “Not true, Coach. It’s more like two hundred of mydaughter. And she’s not a mutt. She’s a purebred.”
I chuckle as Coach sighs.
Daylen smirks at me before asking Coach, “How’s Pierce?”
Coach has a seventeen-year-old son, Pierce Jeffries. He’s a sweet, happy kid, often found hanging around the locker room over the past ten years. Coach is an awesome, hands-on father.
Coach smiles. “He’s great. He’s about to start his senior year of high school.” He sighs. “It’s hard to believe that in just over a year, he’ll be leaving for college.”
Daylen asks, “Is he planning to play football in college?” We know he’s the star quarterback on his high school’s team.
Coach shakes his head. “Nah. He’s a nice player, but I never pushed him in that regard. Between you and me, he doesn’t have the killer instinct that Kennedy has always had. And he’s not half the athlete she is. It’s always come naturally to her. Too bad those women’s flag football leagues didn’t exist when she was younger. She has a rocket of an arm. If Pierce had her arm, hand-eye coordination, and grit, it might be a different story for him.”
Daylen mumbles, “I guess Pierce got the personality and Kennedy got the talent.”
Coach chuckles. “Yep, she’s a handful. God help the man who marries her one day. I’m just happy to have her back in town.” He swallows. “Whether she’s happy to be back or not.”
He has a bit of a pained look on his face. I wonder what that’s about, but it’s not my business to ask.
He continues, “She indulges me now and then with a game of pickleball. The old fuckers at my club never see her coming. She wipes the floor with all of them,” he announces with pride. “Anyway, check out the new plays. We’ve never had the type of running back we now have in Champ. I want the three of you to work as a unit. I’ve drawn up a few creative plays. Have them memorized before our next round of OTAs start.”
I salute him. “Yes, Captain.”
Coach looks around, appearing to make sure we’re alone. “And keep an eye on Reece Sanders. Set him straight ifneeded. You didn’t hear me order the code red, but I’m ordering the code red.”
I nod, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. Reece wouldn’t high-five Champ at practice today. In fact, he goes out of his way to steer clear of Champ. It’s unacceptable behavior.
A code red is a reference to Coach’s favorite movie,A Few Good Men. It’s a military term where platoon mates discipline each other within the group. It might be time for Reece Sanders to experience a Beau Fudd uninhibited tackle. Three hundred pounds of solid muscle crashing into his sub-two-hundred-pound body should do the trick. Or we could do something old school like putting hot sauce in his jockstrap.
After a quick stop to pick up BJ, we’re in Daylen’s custom Jeep Gladiator, his quarter-of-a-million-dollar gift to himself when he signed his new contract, heading down to Maryland. He texted Ashleigh that we’re coming for dinner. She texted back that she’d make porterhouse steaks, Daylen’s favorite food on this planet.
I shove BJ’s head off my shoulder and toward the backseat. Wiping my shirt, I snap, “Stop drooling on me, you fucking big, saliva-producing oaf. D, your dog is disgusting.”
