Chapter Thirty-One

On Monday, Lucas left the house with his sports bag slung around his back. He’d done the last of his laundry and packed before sleeping. He’d boxed up everything he couldn’t or didn’t want to take, so that if his mom decided to leave or get a one-bedroom apartment, she wouldn’t have to clear his stuff up.

Lucas shifted his bag onto his other shoulder. In his hand was a package for Avery. He didn’t want to email her or text her. Both those options said “stay in contact,” and he didn’t want to do that. He wanted her to forget him. So he’d written a letter. A letter that explained everything. Everything from his tattoo, to his move across state, to his name change, to his feelings about her. Okay, his love for her. If he thought for a second that staying in town would be better for Avery, he’d have done it in a heartbeat.

But it wasn’t. He was a fucking disaster to anything that stepped too close to him.

Along with the letter was a gift. He’d hoped to surprise her with it one day next week. He’d imagined that they’d be in Sonic again, and he’d pass it over the table to her. But they didn’t have a next week anymore. They didn’t have anything.

And so he was leaving. Walking out of town. Letting his mom just worry about herself until he could send money back to her. He’d looked online and knew a concrete plant about 150 miles away was looking for manual labor, and a few places to the east advertised for casual labor. All the time he’d put in the gym over the past few years made him qualified for stuff like that. He planned on showing up tomorrow morning and asking for a job. At least hitchhiking wasn’t an issue. For a lot of people in the area, it was the only way to get places.

He had one thing he absolutely had to do that day, and that was keeping his arranged meeting with Coach. Sure, he already knew who Lucas Westman was, but Lucas needed to face the music, take what was coming to him like a man. He needed to own up to this mess and just lay it out there so he could leave Hillside with if not a clear conscience, then a feeling that he may have eventually done the right, selfless thing.

For once.

He paused as he walked past Hardy’s Hardware. The kindness of Avery and Mr. Hardy to give him a chance at a life in Hillside almost choked him. He clenched his fist and forced himself to keep walking to the school.

He bypassed the parking lot where most of the students had already parked and gone inside and skirted around the back to the football field. The gates were unlocked, and Coach’s Toyota was outside. God, it had been a matter of weeks since he’d got into that car for the first time and met Avery.

Inside the gates, there were netted bags full of footballs, laid out every ten yards or so along the touch line. Lucas sat on the lowest bleacher and placed his bag next to him. He heard scuffling in the tunnel that led to the changing rooms. Coach emerged into the morning sun dragging two more nets.

Lucas’s impulse was to jump up and help, but he hesitated, not wanting to seem as if he was currying favor. Because he wasn’t. He didn’t want any favor. Any concession.

Coach stopped dead when he saw him and paused for a few seconds before dragging the balls in front of him. He threw them down with a little more vehemence than perhaps was called for. Lucas jumped up.

“Do not tell me you think you’re playing,” Coach said, eyeing Lucas’s bag.

And right at that moment, Lucas felt free. He could do this. He wasn’t going to die coming clean. He wasn’t embarrassed, because nothing he could say could possibly embarrass him at his core more than he already was. He stood and bit back a half smile. “No, sir. I’m just here to apologize.”

Coach looked mildly surprised. “Go on then.”

“I’m really sorry that I risked your team and the other students’ hopes and dreams. I did all that because I was selfish. And I really do apologize for that.”

Coach watched him as if he expected him to say more, but Lucas really had nothing else to say. If he explained any part of his sorry story, he would feel like he was making excuses. When Coach stayed silent, Lucas grabbed his bag. “Thank you for your time, sir.”

Coach sighed. “Okay. Sit down.”

Lucas sat out of habit, but his gaze still went involuntarily to the exit.

“Tell me what happened at your old high school,” Coach said.

He looked out at the football field, glistening green in the sun. He didn’t want to go through this story again, but he probably owed Coach an answer. Where should he start? “I guess it started in middle school,” Lucas said, still not looking him in the eye.

“What did?”

“MFU did. When I was fourteen, they started giving me things to help me train. Weights, resistance bands, small stuff. It was always this local guy who used to play at that college. He took me to watch them play; he bought me groceries to make smoothies with, bought us a blender.” Lucas shrugged, feeling uncomfortable revealing how stupid he had been.

Coach sat down and stared out at the field. “Where was your mother?”

A trickle of anger flared in Lucas. He stood up and grabbed his bag again. “This is not her fault. This has nothing to do with her.” He wasn’t going to stand for that.

“Sit. Down,” Coach growled.

Lucas took a breath and sat. “She was working eighteen hours a day. Had been since my dad left. She worked at a store and was trying to study, too.”

“It must have been hard,” Coach said.

“It wasn’t, really. I mean, it was, but my whole neighborhood was filled with families doing the same. So it felt normal, I suppose.”

“Then what happened?”

“I got to high school, and they gave me a computer—so I could download and watch their games—and then a car so I could drive to watch their games, and a membership to the gym. Mom was able to cut back on her hours, get her hair cut…”

He stopped talking, worried that he would start fucking blubbing in front of Coach. A tear trickled down his face. His mom had been so happy until the day their whole world came tumbling down.

He swiped at his tear. “Anyway, by then, I knew that there was something wrong with them giving us so much stuff. But I took it anyway. I thought because it didn’t come from the school itself—all the gifts came from people who went to MSU decades ago—that it didn’t count.” Lucas gave a half laugh. “I was wrong.”

“Tough break.”

“No. It was wrong. I know that,” Lucas said.

“And MFU paid a fine?”

“Yup. A million bucks.”

“And you were blackballed.”

“A player who essentially cheats can’t play on any school team. That’s the way it goes. That’s the way the board sees it. Again—I apologize. I just wanted a chance to play again. But I realized my happiness shouldn’t be at the expense of anyone else’s.”

Coach got up. “Is there anything else you wanted to tell me?”

Lucas stood, too. “No, sir.”

“Why did you call to make this appointment to see me last night?” he asked.

“To tell you this.” He gestured to where they’d both been sitting. “I didn’t know Avery had been in contact with anyone about me. And that’s my fault, too. I overreacted to something she did and…” God, he just needed to go. He couldn’t keep rehashing every terrible thing that had happened. He was tired from everything. “It wasn’t her fault. Here.” He dug in the pocket of his kit bag and pulled out a large, bulky envelope with Avery’s name Sharpied on to the front. “Can you give this to Avery?”

Coach hesitated, looking at it.

“I’m leaving. It’s just an apology.”

Coach took the letter, and still looking at it, he said, “There’s a meeting in an hour or so to discuss this whole situation. Do you want me to call you with the decision?”

Lucas hefted his bag onto his shoulder. “No need. I’m heading out to…” He didn’t want to tell him where he was going, because he didn’t want anyone from Hillside to find him again. “I’m heading out.”

“All right, son. Good luck.” He held out his hand and shook Lucas’s.

Lucas took a deep breath and walked slowly to the gates that he came in, sneaking one last look around the field, his gaze lingering again on the tunnel. His heart would never be the same.

“Don’t forget the Hammers’ number one rule,” Coach’s voice echoed behind him.

Lucas didn’t look back; he just raised his hand and exited the field and then the school, and then headed out to the 10, where he figured he could get a ride.