Page 53 of Under the Lights
Just for fun,he reminded himself. The only thing on the line was money, and Chase was doing his part just by showing up and shaking hands. Who cared who won the exhibition game? The real winners would hopefully be the kids when they got to take the field in the fall.
As soon as the guys cleared the field, Briscoe’s three boys and Decker’s two were out there with a football. The ages varied, but they immediately launched into some kind of catch, keep-away hybrid game. Briscoe and Deck joined them, and Chase laughed when the kids ganged up to take their dads to the ground.
It would be nice to have kids to play ball with, he thought. He could picture the Briscoe family, gathered around the television to cheer on the Patriots, followed by a backyard game of their own.
He always thought he’d have that by now. A house. Some kids to toss a football around with, and it didn’t matter if they were boys or girls. A house. A dog. Maybe if he’d given Rina the diamond ring when he bought it, he’d have had some of it by now.
And she probably would have then taken it all in a long, ugly divorce battle, instead of quietly boxing her things and having her new boyfriend carry them out. A wedding band wouldn’t have changed things for the better.
Chase drank more water and watched the kids and their dads play. He still had time, he knew. No matter how it felt when he was out on that field, he wasn’t old yet. But he was starting over, and things could get messier before they got better. Maybe when the ground was solid under his feet again, he’d find the right woman.
A woman like Kelly, maybe.
“The longer you sit, the harder it’ll be to get back out there,” Coach told them.
Chase put the cap back on his water. “Says the man whose sole job is to carry a clipboard and wear a whistle.”
“And put up with you lot. Let’s go, Sanders. Leavitt, you, too. Maybe a few laps will loosen you up.”
They laughed at him and made their way back onto the field with no intention of running laps. Or evenalap. Sam stepped up behind one of the dads, who was filling in at center, and then pointed at Chase. “You run to the left and wave your hands in the air, and then I’ll throw the ball to Briscoe.”
“Just call a damn play,” Chase growled. “I’m not that far gone yet.”
“Keep telling yourself that, old man.”
—
On Thursday afternoon, Kelly walked over to Eagles Lane to visit her parents. Because she’d seen the mail carrier up the street, she grabbed the mail from the box on her way into the house.
Her mom was in the kitchen, sorting through her coupon box. Helen McDonnell had watched a show about extreme couponing a few years back and, while she didn’t go to extremes, she’d made something of a sport out of grocery shopping. “Hi, honey.”
“Where’s Dad?”
“He’s working this afternoon. He’ll probably be gone a couple of hours, at least.”
Technically, there was still a McDonnell’s Plumbing office downtown, and her parents visited it a few times per week. The paperwork was all there, as well as the ancient computer they both hated. But more often than not now, they stayed home. If somebody called, Coach went to work. If not, he worked around the house, taking care of the honey-do list his wife made out for him each week.
“I grabbed your mail.” She set it on the counter, but slipped the weekly newspaper out of the pile and tossed it on the table. Then she poured a glass of lemonade, topped off her mom’s, and sat down.
Her mom hummed while she sifted through the coupons, checking expiration dates and pulling any that corresponded to the week’s shopping list. Kelly flipped through the paper until she came to an article about Eagles Fest.
The writing was fairly routine, which wasn’t a surprise since the same guy had been writing the community articles for as long as Kelly could remember, but the photos drew her attention. They were more eye-catching than usual, with vivid detail even in black and white. Sure enough, when she looked closer at the fine print in the captions, the photos were credited to Alex Murphy.
She wondered if the editor of the weekly had an idea of who Alex was or if he’d just been offered high-quality photos and used them.
Alex had managed to get a shot of the dunking booth, catching Chase in the middle of his ridiculous windup. At the edge of the photo was the tank itself, and Kelly was laughing at him. Probably taunting him, too. Even as she admired Alex’s eye for composition, the memory of Chase playing up to the crowd made her smile.
She traced her finger over his picture, thinking about the fact that he’d be stopping by later for a quick dinner. Earlier he’d texted her a photo of them all sprawled out on the football field, with a note that he should get some kind of special reward for working so hard.
“Kelly, I hope you’re being careful.”
She looked up, her face flaming when she realized her mom had been watching her practically stroking a picture of Chase Sanders. “Uh, what?”
“There’s been talk, honey. And look at you.” She pointed at the newspaper. “I know you’re young and having fun, but the more I see you two together, the more I worry you’re getting too involved with him.”
“I’m not.” She closed the paper and set it aside. Talking about Chase to her mom wasn’t particularly high on the list of things she wanted to do, but she may as well face it head-on. “What does Dad think about the talk?”
Her mom sighed. “He’s trying to ignore it because you’re his daughter and he doesn’t want to hear about certain details of your life. Plus, as I keep reminding him, it’s really none of his business. But he worries about you. He doesn’t want you to get hurt like last time.”
