It was Saturday night. Thanksgiving had been delicious, and Gran’s birthday celebration had been a blast. Their family gathered and played Catch Phrase, ironically her favorite. She claimed it was because it made everyone laugh and think all at the same time. Micah wasn’t so sure about the second part, but he would do anything for his Gran. Anything.
Luckily, the University of Alabama had a bye week on Thanksgiving weekend this year, so Seth was home, but in normal Richards family fashion another football game blared on the television. Micah had heard rumors of his brother partying more and more. Scouts were on the hunt, and Micah was worried that if he didn’t stay away from parties and on his game he might miss out on a great opportunity. So much potential. Such a slippery slope. Micah wanted it all for Seth.
He sat next to him on the couch in the living room, several guys from the University of Alabama piled around them munching on snacks. They loved Gran almost as much as the family and had crashed the party. His mom sure knew how to lay out a spread for big athletes. She’d made burgers, sandwiches, vegetable and fruit trays, cookies, and chips and salsa by the buckets.
David leaned over the couch between Micah and Seth, his gaze glued to the screen hanging over the fireplace. David was Micah’s lighter alter ego. His loose comb over of chestnut brown hair varied from Micah’s dark chocolate strands. His eyes were closer to their sister’s green than Micah’s deep brown. He was the eldest in the family, steadier than either Micah or Seth, and their rock in rough moments.
“How ya feeling about the end of the season and these scouts that are hovering?” David asked their younger brother.
The redheaded tight end didn’t look at their oldest brother. “I’m really interested in Colorado, but I don’t know. It seems surreal to be talking to professional scouts.”
Kaylan shuffled across the room and squeezed her way between Micah and Seth on the couch. “You can’t talk about scouts without me! What are you thinking?”
Seth lost some of the charm he usually had around his friends, and a hint of insecurity peeked through. “I feel like I have no clue what to do with my life if this falls through.”
Micah knew the feeling. Micah was living the feeling.
“You find the next thing. You don’t give up. I know God created you for big things, Seth,” Micah assured, not quite claiming that truth for himself.
“God created me for football, Micah.” He glanced around their sister, perched on top of both of them. “I don’t know anything else.”
David gripped Seth’s shoulder. “God created you for more than football, Seth Richards.”
“And if for some reason I don’t get recruited?”
Micah watched his brothers and sister. The four of them each played a unique role in the dynamic. David the quiet leader, Micah the warrior protector, Kaylan the sweetheart and caregiver, and Seth the encourager joy-bringer. This is who they’d always been. A team, even when they were fighting with each other. In this role, with these people, the protector in him rose from slumber again. His inner fighter was doing that a lot lately.
“Then Bulldog and I will personally take out whichever idiots don’t choose you for the NFL,” Nick assured, bending over the couch next to David.
“And I’ll help.” Kaylan grinned, pounding her fist into her open hand.
“I think they may be more scared of you than Micah and Nick,” Seth said, poking their sister in the ribs. She could definitely hold her own when she needed to. They just never put her in that situation.
“That is for sure.” David kept watching the television. “I’ll help with the cleanup.”
They all looked at him. “Which might be the creepiest comment all night, big bro.” Micah grinned at his brother. People thought David was silent and intense. Micah knew he might be the most loyal and fierce protector of them all.
“What about you, Micah? What’s next?” Seth asked, immediately putting Micah in the hot seat as the eyes of all his siblings focused on him.
He squirmed next to Kaylan. “I guess I need to figure out a job. I’ve been helping out with coaching at a school in Dallas, and I love it more than expected. The kids are challenging, but it’s so cool to watch them learn and excel, you know? And there’s something about being a coach for a kid at that age. You can make a big impact. But . . .”
Kaylan nudged him in the ribs. “But what?”
Micah sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “I’m just not sure I can handle that responsibility right now. These kids need someone they can depend on, and I’m not sure I fit that bill.”
“Bulldog, I think you have bought the lie that you are broken and a failure because of what happened earlier this year. You are one of the most dependable people I know. I never questioned or doubted you when we served together. You have got to move past this. It’s destroying you, man, and it will destroy the future that lies ahead of you if you let it.” Nick gave no room for argument, and while Micah bit back a defensive retort, the words also winged their way to the parts that had felt broken and questioning.
“It sounds like Dallas might just be the place you need to start over. And it sounds like those kids could use a guy like you, bro. A guy who knows what it feels like to have life kick him in the teeth and who still rises up anyway,” David chimed in, squeezing Micah’s shoulder in the process.
Seth’s friends cheered for a touchdown on the screen, and attention was immediately pulled from Micah. Kaylan burrowed further between her brothers, looping her arm around Micah’s. “I think the Lord may have provided Dallas as your next opportunity. The question is, are you ready to stop running?”
It was a question he still didn’t know how to answer.
Micah didn’t show and even worse, he hadn’t let her know. She stood on the sidelines of the last game of the day, cheering her team on while Brad, her potential new coach, hollered on the other side of the court. It had been a successful day of fundraising, even better because the community showed up and participated. Big donors were always helpful and welcome, but there was something about the people in the community giving even a little to support the neighborhood kids.
“Shoot, shoot!” she yelled at TJ.
With a swish, the ball cleared the net and her team won the tournament. Mama Rosie hooted and hollered from her seat on the front row of the bleachers.
Casey finished high-fiving her team and then wandered over to Emery and Bianca at the tables.
“Casey, look at all this money!” Emery fanned a full stack of green bills, marking the event as a success. “People keep buying food tickets and bounce house tickets for their kids. Maybe we can build two baseball fields.”
“How about a cheerleading gym?” Bianca suggested.
“How about y’all quit waving that money around and put it back in the box for me?” she laughed, loving their enthusiasm for everything happening at Ellie’s Place. She tapped the metal box on the table where they sat at the entryway and moved to check on Shawn who was cleaning up the pie-eating competition.
“Good competition?”
Shawn grimaced. “I may never eat pie again, but it was a great year. How is it that Leah Gonzalez weighs one hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet and yet manages to out-eat every large man here?”
Casey chuckled. “That is definitely a mystery.” Raised voices made her turn her head, and her gaze landed on Coleman towering over Bianca, trying to take some dollar bills out of her hand. She stretched, keeping it out of his reach, her voice raising in a stream of Spanish Casey couldn’t quite make out.
“Shawn.” With one glance in the direction she pointed, they were both jogging toward the table, Coleman now yelling at Bianca. Emery sat next to Bianca, clutching the metal box containing the rest of the money in her lap.
“Bianca, just a couple bucks, Babe. Why you treating me like this?”
“You are loco. This is not your money. This is not my money. Coleman, stop!”
His hands almost swiped the dollar bills as he bent over her.
“Coleman, back up, man,” Shawn boomed as they arrived at the table. Shawn quickly shoved his way in between Bianca and Coleman as Casey swiped the money from Bianca’s hand and took the lock box from Emery. With a quick turn of a key, she unlocked the box, tossed the rest of the cash in there, and snapped the lid shut.
“Is that all of it?” Casey whispered to Emery as Coleman shouted at Shawn, his mouth only inches away from Shawn’s face. Shawn held his ground, calm. Around Coleman, a group of guys began to gather. Some Casey recognized as high school dropouts from a few years back.
“That’s it.” Emery’s rich brown eyes looked like saucers.
Casey nudged Emery and Bianca from their chairs. “Can you go find Al, please?” The girls took off at a run, and Casey turned to help Shawn, Brad arriving and standing nearby.
“Man, why y’all always up in my business? I just needed a few bucks. Wouldn’ta hurt nothing for her to give them to me.”
“Coleman, you know why she didn’t give them to you.” Casey respected that Shawn didn’t move, didn’t budge, as the antsy teen now prowled back and forth in front of him. Baggy jeans, white t-shirts, tattoos on display even in the cold.
“Y’all aren’t even from this hood, Coach.” A few guys around him nodded. “Why are you causing trouble?”
“I’m not the one causing trouble, Coleman.” Shawn took a step toward him, forcing Coleman to stumble back at the unexpected move. “Why don’t y’all go ahead and leave? Don’t ruin a good day.”
Coleman’s grin sent a chill down Casey’s spine. She felt Al’s hand on her shoulder and his gentle undertone, “Do I need to call the police?”
Before she could answer, Coleman lifted his baggy shirt, revealing a dull, silver gun tucked into his belt. “I run this neighborhood, Coach. Sooner or later, you’ll understand that.” With a quick pivot, he and his crew exited through the balloon arch marking the entrance to the field next to the basketball courts. With a quick jerk of his arm, balloons began popping, his laughter maniacal over the bursts. Casey approached the arch and lifted one of the destroyed balloons. Ragged edges. From a knife.
Soft steps approached behind her, and Casey turned to find her nervous prospective coach. “Casey, I thought I knew what I was doing with this job, but . . .” Brad feathered a hand through his short blond hair. “I don’t know that I can handle this. Today was fun, but I think I’m going to have to pass up the position.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Casey gave a nod, resigned. If he couldn’t handle this, she couldn’t handle him here. “Best of luck.”
“I’m truly sorry.” With a nod, Brad turned toward the parking lot.
Casey groaned and dropped her head in her hands. Micah didn’t show. She was down a coach. Coleman was escalating. Her excitement over the fundraiser dimmed.
“What’s on your mind, Micah?”
Micah didn’t even need to turn around. He’d been staring through the glass windows in the sunroom at the lake for fifteen minutes now, but only his image and the blackness beyond had stared back. He’d seen Pap watching over his shoulder for two minutes. But that was Pap. Never pushing. Always asking.
“I can’t see anything out there.” Micah didn’t need to see the view to describe it. A wooden dock spanned from the back porch steps to the water beyond. A boat and two jet skis sat docked under the wooden roof. Micah and his brothers had spent one summer building every inch of it with their dad. They’d mowed lawns and done chores for neighbors over two summers to earn the jet skis. And they’d laughed and played for summers since.
On the other side of the lake sat a few more houses interspersed among climbing trees. When the sun broke over the tree line and spread over the lake in lemonade tones, it was truly a sight to behold. He’d spent many mornings with Kaylan watching from this very room. And many mornings with David getting an early start on the water. Of course, his siblings always had to bribe him with coffee first. Seth had always joined them later when he stumbled from bed.
But despite his memories and knowledge of the view, only a shadowed image of himself stared back. And blackness. Only blackness behind the windows with the faintest hint of moonlight.
Pap pushed off from the door jam, his cane tapping a rhythm on the cement floor. His minor heart attack a few years earlier had weakened him. Dave had whittled the cane as a gift—truly a work of art. Pap stopped next to Micah, his gaze fixed on the windows before him.
“Know what I see?”
Micah wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Micah saw a man marked by age but standing tall, the confident, retired state judge still able to command a room and hold court. He could mete out justice to criminals and then come back and play dolls with his granddaughter or cheer his grandsons on at a game. His stature wasn’t all that different from Micah’s—broad shoulders, now slightly stooped with age. Tall. His thick white hair combed over and green eyes still sparkling. If Micah could be half the man his Pap and dad and Dave were when he got older, then he would count himself blessed. But right now, he just couldn’t see it.
Finally, Micah answered. “What do you see, Pap?”
“I see the best quarterback I ever watched play.” Micah rolled his eyes but Pap’s gaze shifted to his and held in the glass. And Micah knew he was only getting started.
“I see a Navy SEAL who fought for his country. I see a brother, son, and grandson who makes this family complete. I see a friend who would do anything for others. I see a protector. I see a warrior.”
Micah couldn’t meet Pap’s eyes.
A hand rested on his shoulder, and Pap turned them both away from the haunting glass images. “And I see my grandson who has lost confidence in himself. I want him to find it again.”
“I messed up, Pap.”
“You didn’t mess up. It was just circumstances.”
“You know it wasn’t just that. If I hadn’t been stupid in high school that night. If I hadn’t injured myself.”
“If can be a crippling word, Son.” He turned them both back to the window, this time resting both of his hands on Micah’s shoulders. “If can also be a powerful word. Look.”
Micah glanced at the window, this time their images blurring together. The moon now peeked from behind the clouds, and a slice of moonlight danced on the lake, illuminating his silhouette in the window.
“Turn the if around, Micah. Tell me what you see.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about, Pap.”
His grandfather smirked, and in that turn of his lips Micah saw himself, his sister, his brothers, the spunk, the strength, the drive. The love.
“If you’d never injured yourself in high school . . .”
“I would probably have been in Seth’s shoes,” he started slowly. “I would have probably gone on to star at UCLA instead of sitting on the bench most of the time. I probably wouldn’t have had the time to become friends with Nick. I might not have joined the SEALs.”
Pap nodded. “Then what?”
“If I hadn’t joined the SEALs, I wouldn’t have fought for my country. I wouldn’t have found a new team, a new brotherhood. Kaylan wouldn’t have met Nick.”
“Where would your sister be if that hadn’t happened?”
More moonlight illuminated the water outside. Micah could now make out the outline of the dock. He shoved his hands in his pockets. He remembered finding his sister in Haiti, the light gone from her eyes and the people she had befriended and loved for weeks now dead, homes destroyed. Nick had been the driving force helping her heal once she returned home. “Kaylan probably wouldn’t have healed as quickly after Haiti. They never would have fallen in love. Never would have gotten married. Probably never would have had the courage to go back to Haiti again.” He frowned. “She also wouldn’t have been hunted by a terrorist.” He cringed remembering the arms dealer, Janus, who had taken a particular interest in their team, even making it personal and stalking their loved ones in California.
“Now you aren’t God, so you don’t control any of those outcomes. But the point is, bad can come with good, Micah. We live in a broken world. Keep going. What else?”
“If I hadn’t joined the SEALs, Nick might be dead by now.” He’d saved Nick’s back, but Nick had saved Micah’s too, on more than one occasion. It’s what teammates did. He stopped. His heart felt heavy. “My friends also wouldn’t have died, Pap. If I hadn’t made a stupid decision in high school, gotten hurt, and then reinjured that weak muscle on an op, my friends wouldn’t have died.”
Pap squeezed his shoulders. His wise gaze never wavered from Micah. “They also wouldn’t have traded serving with you, fighting alongside you. You aren’t God, Micah Richards. You are just a man whom He chooses to use. We can ‘what if’ all day. The truth is, we can never fully understand God’s plans. But we can’t keep living in the regret and shadow of our past mistakes.”
“They’re still gone, Pap.”
“And the timeline of each life is set by the good Lord long before we are ever born. Your friends were warriors. Don’t dishonor their memory by wallowing in regret and blame. Do you know what I see?”
Micah remained silent. The television blared from the family room. He heard the musical trill of Kaylan’s laughter and the murmur of Nick’s response. He heard the voices of his parents and brothers, rising and falling, teasing, laughing. His team. A team that he never had to try to belong to. He just . . . belonged. But he’d always wanted, needed more. He needed to know he belonged to more than just a family who was required to love him, although he knew they didn’t feel that way.
“Micah.”
The moon had climbed well above the clouds, and Micah could clearly see his childhood playground, the place that had seen him through every victory and every defeat. It shone through every part of him, shining light on the pieces he loved and hated.
“You see a man who lost his way, his team, and his confidence.”
“Wrong.” Pap stepped next to him and put his arm over his shoulders. “I see Micah Richards, my grandson, a son of God, an incredible brother, son, hopefully father someday.” He smiled. “An incredible friend. An honorable teammate. And a man who needs to remember exactly where his confidence lies.”
Micah turned from his reflection and met the knowing gaze of his grandfather. Dread curled within him, but he knew his grandfather had issued a challenge. And a Richards never backed down from a challenge. Neither did a SEAL.
“How do I do that, Pap?”
“Well now, I think you may need to visit the place where this long root of if began. And I think you need to go now. If you hurry, you can make it before your flight.”
Back to the scene of his first regret, the one that led to all the rest. And even to some of his greatest victories, sweetest memories, and best relationships. Maybe Pap had a point. Pap shoved car keys into his hands. “Take mine. And don’t leave until you see what I see staring back. Your dad can take me to pick up my car at the airport in the morning.”
With a quick nod, Micah left to face his demons.
“We did it, Case!” Teagan pranced into the storage room as Casey shuffled a tower of orange cones to the corner. The mentors and kids had helped clean up the campus, but the closet had seen better days. Casey tossed another cone on top of the stack with a plop before turning to face Teagan.
“Yeah, it was a good day, Teag.” But she’d missed a very handsome, very absent someone.
Teagan danced in front of her, her red ponytail swinging behind her. “Okay, I really need you to get on my excitement level here.”
Casey rolled her eyes at her friend but allowed a smile to peak through. “Not possible, Teag. But I’ll try. Tell me again.”
“Okay, here goes. Ready?”
Casey fought another eye roll, but she couldn’t help the full grin that finally cracked her features. “Ready.”
“We did it! We raised the rest of the money for the baseball field!” Teagan jumped up and down.
“Wait, what? That’s incredible!” Casey joined her friend in a small jump. “But I am also back to the drawing board with a coach.”
“Yeah, that’s unfortunate.” Teagan winced. “But the right guy or gal is going to show up. I just know it.”
“I wish I had your confidence,” Casey groaned.
Al appeared in the doorway, a smile on his sweaty, lined face. Despite the chill of the day, he was in his classic, short-sleeve button-down and casual slacks complete with fedora. Jacket slung over his arm. “I’m calling the contractor tomorrow. We raised the money, and my company and a couple other contributors will match the rest.”
“Wow, I can’t believe it.”
Al pulled them both into a hug. “And I couldn’t have done it without my girls. You two did a great job planning all of this.”
“If only we hadn’t been short a coach. I’m sorry, Al.”
Al squeezed Casey’s shoulder. “I’m sure he had a very good reason. Give the boy a chance to explain. But you did a great job coaching, as always.” He motioned to Teagan. “Can you help me wrap up a couple things in the office really quick while Casey finishes in here?”
“Sure thing. See ya, Case.” The two left the small room, leaving Casey to her arranging and thoughts. It had been a good day. The kids had played hard; many from the neighborhood and other parts of Dallas had showed up. They had bounce houses for the kids, fair food for purchase, t-shirts, and more. The day had been perfect.
Except for Micah.
She hadn’t seen him in a week. Hadn’t heard from him all day. He hadn’t shown. And she hadn’t wanted to text him.
She tossed a basketball in the corner and caught it as it snapped back to her. Her hands stung from the impact of the rough rubber.
“Can I help with anything else before I leave, Case?”
Shawn hung from the doorframe to the equipment room as she wrestled with a few basketballs that had rolled from their rack.
“I don’t think so. I’m about to head out.” She shoved the balls into place, another bouncing off the end of the rack.
“He had a family thing, Casey.”
“Who?” She slapped the ball back on the end of the rack and then began to count. All there.
“You know exactly who. That guy you are pretending not to be mad at. You always were terrible at charades.”
“I hate charades. No point guessing when we can just say what we mean.” Casey tossed her hands on her hips and faced her old friend. He looked every bit the Italian that she assumed his birth parents were. Olive-toned skin. Dark eyes. And beautiful, dark hair. A darker version of Micah. But she felt only brotherly affection toward Shawn.
Micah just made her mad. And maybe a little disappointed.
“Don’t pretend you know me so well, Shawn Delgado.”
Shawn crossed his arms over his broad chest. His backwards-facing cap made his intense stare more cute than intimidating. She knew that look all too well.
“Listen. I don’t know why Micah didn’t let you know he was going out of town. I know his family unexpectedly bought him a ticket for Thanksgiving and asked him to come home.”
“Don’t make excuses for him.”
“Sister, I am not making excuses for that fool. He should have told you. But you also should give him the chance to explain. And you should also call him because it sounds like he actually handled the TJ thing well.”
Casey tossed her hands in the air. “He told you?”
Shawn grinned. “He told me enough.”
Casey blushed. She couldn’t help it. It was weird for her stand-in-brother to know all the details of her date.
“All I’m saying is he is trying. And yes, he messed up. But stop damning him for everything else. Talk to him, Casey.”
Casey made to squeeze past him, but Shawn tossed his heavy arm around her and drew her to a halt. “Talk to him, Little Sis, or I will lock you two in a room together until you make up or kill each other. Got it?”
He would, too. Casey returned his side hug. “Fine.”
As betrayed as she felt, she really wanted to see Micah again. Ever since the service at church, her walls were weakening. She owed Micah an apology. He owed her one now, too. And he better make it good. But she would, at the very least, let him make it.
Beyond apologies, she also owed him an explanation. She’d told him she felt abandoned by God, but the truth was she had done a lot of the abandoning, and she was finding her way back. Al was right. She needed her Father—she just didn’t know how to fully trust Him. But Micah seemed to. She didn’t understand what had happened to him, but she knew Micah had held tightly to his faith.
Casey fiddled with her phone. Typing, deleting, and retyping. Trying to choose her words with care. Trying to fight the walls . . . just a little. Finally, she hit send and stared at the blue text bubble on her screen.
Even with Micah’s forgetfulness, his persistence, care, concern, and strength drew her to him. And that made her nervous—and despite his failed commitment, she felt oddly hopeful.
The field had once been grass. Now AstroTurf greeted him at Memorial Stadium, home field of the Tuscaloosa Wildcats. The moon glinted off stands on either side of him, and the press box loomed large and as intimidating as always to his right. Yet somehow it didn’t seem as big as it once had. In fact, the whole stadium felt a little smaller. Night air and the lingering scent of plastic and sweat greeted him as he came to a stop in the middle of the fifty-yard line.
He’d been a hero on this field. Crowds had cheered. And he’d been surrounded by his team. As their quarterback, he’d led them to victory and playoffs sophomore and junior year. Then senior year came and with it a perfect season and a shot at state.
And he’d blown it.
He settled onto the white line in the center of the field. His knees pulled to his chest. The moon hung directly over the press box, and the light cast the field around him in shadows.
With a deep breath, he let himself fall back to the place and person he’d once been.
It was senior year, and they had made it to state. Micah was surrounded by all his buddies and friends from school. They gathered in his friend’s backyard, the pool full of teenagers with red plastic cups. And Micah held his own red cup for the first time ever. He’d always been the good kid. The confident kid. The Christian kid. The kid who had never desired to drink, never needed to to have a good time. But tonight, under the haze of winning and the state game looming the next day, he decided to make an exception. He wanted to celebrate, to cut loose. Just this once.
He didn’t know how many refills he’d gone through, pumped into his waiting hands by his buddies. They were dumb teenagers, not realizing how badly the alcohol would impact them in the game the next day. Or maybe just not caring. It was a curse of youth—thinking the future ahead was bright but never pausing to consider the choices of the present day.
Micah had felt like he was on cloud nine.
His buddy threw him a pass, and Micah dove after it. His feet hit slick cement. He slipped. Pain unlike any he had felt ripped up his leg just as his fingers wrapped around pigskin and he smashed into the water.
That had been it.
They’d lost state. Their star quarterback sidelined. All because he’d made a bad decision.
He’d been in physical therapy for months, and his scholarship to UCLA had turned into a second-string option for two years before he left the team.
And found Nick. And the SEALs.
And ten years later. That same injury, same weak muscle, had flared in the middle of running from an ambush. And he’d led their enemies right to his friends.
He’d held his buddies as they died. And they’d never known it was his fault, his weakness, his past mistake that led to their end.
Never would’ve blamed him.
But he’d left anyway. Because he hurt those on his team. Any team. And he couldn’t stay.
He stretched out on the field, his arms folded behind his head and face toward the moonlit sky overhead.
He’d once been a star. A football player. A teammate. Not anymore. Maybe he defined himself too much by where and to whom he belonged. His world shattered and he faltered every time the Lord stripped those pieces away.
Maybe he cloaked himself so much in the identity of his team that he continually forgot his identity as just Micah. Like those stars he’d seen with Casey in the night sky only a week before. Together, they made a beautiful skyline, but individually, they still had a light and uniqueness all their own.
Maybe Micah needed to get there. He’d been the quarterback and played an important role. His role would be nothing without the team, but his identity was secure without it. He was a United States Navy SEAL. He was best with his brothers, but a role change didn’t change the relationship. He was still a SEAL, they were still his team. Life just looked different.
He belonged to the Richards clan. But he wasn’t the brother who was present every day to support David or protect and pick on Kaylan and Seth. But he was still their brother. Whether with them or apart.
And he was still a son of the God who painted the night sky and knew every star by name. God might have created Seth to play football. But he had created Micah to be part of a team. Micah was beginning to realize that might look different in different seasons.
He was a leader. A teammate. And if that was how God had wired him, why wouldn’t he want to use Micah to grow and build into the lives of others?
He was Micah Richards. Created in the image of the God who created unity and teamwork. But he wouldn’t stand before the Lord someday as a teammate. He would stand before the Lord as himself, and he knew the Lord saw him just as he was and wanted him to be more than Micah dreamed he could be.
Micah was a warrior. And he belonged to God. Period. With or without a team.
And right now, for this season, he belonged in Dallas, coaching a team of hurting kids who needed someone to believe in them. He was meant to support and care for and learn from Shawn and Mama Rosie and Al and Teagan. And maybe, just maybe, he was there to learn to love a woman who had fought many of life’s battles alone, who felt like she had to do everything by herself. Maybe it was Micah’s job to show her how valuable and incredible she was to God and how he created people to team up and do life together.
After all, teamwork was Micah’s specialty.
His phone dinged in the quiet, the screen glowing as he held it over his head to read the message.
Where were you?
Micah’s sprang up. Was the fundraiser today? This Saturday? He scrolled to Casey’s earlier text. Apparently when she said next Saturday, she’d meant today. He’d missed it. He kicked the turf, wishing he had something to throw. He was trying to get back in her good graces.
But he’d let Casey down, let the kids down. Despite his breakthrough, Micah cringed. He balled his hands into fists. Somehow, he had to fix this. He had to let her know that he was a man of his word, that he hadn’t let her down intentionally. He hurried toward the exit. Time to leave his past behind. Time to summon up the courage to remember who he was and fight for a future.