Page 5 of Third and Ten

Now the cancer has returned to my father’s lungs with a vengeance, and the oncologists all agree that it’s the beginning of the end, spurring my impromptu decision to uproot my life and return temporarily to my hometown in South Central Louisiana.

“Hey there, Tenley-girl,” my dad drawls in a sleepy voice after I begin adjusting some of the devices responsible for keeping him alive.

“Hey, Daddy,” I return and kiss his cheek. “Comme ça va?”

“Ah, ça va, ma jolie fille,” he answers in French. “I hope your drive wasn’t too bad?”

“Not at all.” We’re both fibbing. Things are obviously not going well for him, and the roads between Texas and Louisiana are notoriously rough.

“Oh, have you talked to Ethan? He’s probably going to need a ride to football practice this afternoon.”

I hand him a few pills and a glass of water. “They’re practicing on Labor Day?”

“Coach doesn’t cut them any slack, but that’s why they’re going to be good this year.”

“Hmm. I’m actually about to head over to meet with Dr. Simms and the clinic staff. I’m sure I can drop Ethan off at the field and pick him up on the way home.”

I frown as he struggles to get the medicine down before speaking again. “Aren’t you going to stick around and offer your services as an athletic trainer to the team?” he suggests with a broken laugh.

“I’m afraid I’ve let my water-girl certification lapse.”

“I’m sure those boys would still be happy to have your help,” he says, smirking. “You know, some of your old friends have moved home, too. You probably went to school with half of Ethan’s teachers and coaches.”

I don’t have the heart to tell my dad I haven’t kept in touch with any of my childhood friends over the years, or even bothered to attend a reunion. My career has kept me so busy that I’ve barely had time to visit my family. Not that I could boast about any close friendships from high school, anyway; at least, not once my home life got complicated.

Unlike my sister, I made it a point to lie low back then. Besides helping at home during my dad’s first round of cancer and eventually after Ethan was born, I did my time in extracurriculars, got good grades, and worked as an athletic trainer for the football team. But that was all. I was determined not to become one of those girls who peaked in high school.

Then I went off to nursing school, which took so much time and energy, and college Tenley turned into a more mature, determined version of high-school Tenley, who kept her head down and took everything seriously. And adult-workaholic Tenley is certainly no better.

Nearly every version of me since middle school has been bad at relationships and friendships, because being so driven means being incapable of forming a deep connection with anyone in case they might need me—or I might need them. It’s a lot easier this way.

“I’ll keep an eye out for some of my classmates while I’m around,” I answer after a minute, feigning interest.

“I bet you’ll see some familiar faces at Ethan’s football games, for sure.”

I nod. “Anything else I can get for you?” I offer, changing the subject.

“I may be dying, but I’m not completely helpless yet,” he replies. “Je ne suis pas gâté.”

“That is what I’m here for, you know. To spoil you. Though it’s also because I got tired of only catching Dallas games on Sundays,” I say, purposefully ignoring his morbid sense of humor.

He chuckles, which triggers a short coughing fit. “At least I know I raised you well.”

CHAPTER 2

JD

“Nice job out there today, Tate,” I say, dropping one hand onto the helmet of my junior quarterback and using the other to jerk his face mask playfully. “I’m feeling the new footwork.”

“Thanks,” he returns. “Coach Blake’s been working with me. Now, I just gotta get that slant right.”

“It’ll come, man.” I walk on, slapping a few of the others on the back and doling out positive feedback with an occasional side of constructive criticism. “Big E,” I call out to number twenty-three. The young running back turns before he reaches the doors of the locker room.

“Yes, sir?” he asks, his eyes wide.

My nickname for him seems a bit ironic since I’m looking down at him, but I’m used to towering over everyone, at least since I retired from playing professional football and started coaching high schoolers. “Your blocking’s improved. I liked you in that matchup with Trevor today.” I hold out my fist as a proud smile spreads across his face, and he bumps his knuckles against mine.

“Yeah, he was pretty mad about that,” he says with a light laugh. “You must have missed the next play when he laid me out.”

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