“Shit.” He hated waking up this way. After he’d been released from the hospital, he’d seen little point in living, much less performing the daily conventions of living. He hadn’t bothered to shave, change his clothes, clean his cabin, or do anything else, really, except lie in front of the television. Once in a while, he’d open a can so he could eat, but he hadn’t even done that with any regularity.

  Once he started losing weight, his family realized how badly off he was and Reenie came to stay with him for a few weeks. She goaded him and challenged him—even physically wrestled with him on occasion—to get him to bounce back. When he finally started to respond, he let her believe it was because she’d made his life unbearable. But that wasn’t the truth. Life had already become unbearable. He let her help him because, for a while there, he’d needed her strength to prevent himself from sinking into the dark pit of depression.

  Once he’d gotten a hold of himself, however, he’d gone in the opposite direction. Now he was almost militant about his daily hygiene, his fitness, the cleanliness of his house, his yard, his shop.

  He frowned at his rumpled clothes. Until last night.

  The phone rang again. Remembering the call from his father, he didn’t make any effort to answer.

  A few seconds later, the machine picked up. “Gabe, where are you? I need to talk to you.”

  Mike. It sounded serious.

  “Give me a call when you get this—”

  Gabe reached above his head for the cordless phone he kept on the side table. “What is it?” he said, but he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know. Ever since he’d agreed to coach the Spartans—ever since he’d started associating with people again—his emotions seemed so much more extreme than before. He felt excitement, stimulation, hope. He also felt discouragement, embarrassment, fear and despair.

  He wasn’t sure the trade-off was worth it.

  “I just got a call from Dale Lindley’s mother,” Mike said.

  Dale was on the football team, but he wasn’t a good player. Unless the Spartans were winning by a wide margin, Gabe knew Dale probably wouldn’t play. Fortunately, the boy was happy just to wear the uniform, practice with the team, and help the coaches.

  “What did she want?” he asked.

  “Dale woke her up to tell her something he overheard in the locker room yesterday after practice.”

  “This early?” Gabe glanced at the clock above his television. It was barely six.

  “He didn’t sleep well.”

  “Evidently not. What’s going on?”

  “I guess Sly Reed was bragging to Tiger Shipley that he could predict the outcome of the game next Friday. He said the Spartans are going to lose.”

  Gabe let his eyes drift closed again. “So? Sly’s a loudmouth.” And he wasn’t one of Gabe’s favorite players. Sly needed to be in the limelight and often did stupid things to get there. Coach Owens had mentioned that he’d been suspended last year for drinking at a school dance.

  “Evidently, there’s a little more to it than that,” Mike said.

  At this, Gabe opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. “What more could there be?”

  “He was willing to put a hundred bucks on it.”

  “Sly’s dad is the school janitor. He doesn’t make a lot of money. Where would Sly get a hundred bucks?”

  “Beats me.”

  “How did Tiger respond?”

  “He got mad and stormed out.”

  Gabe covered his face with his arm. “Good for Tiger.”

  “I’m not finished yet. After Tiger left, the twins cornered Sly in the locker room and warned him to keep his mouth shut. Then Dale heard them say Blaine would take it out of Sly’s hide if anyone found out.”

  At the mention of Blaine’s name, Gabe shoved himself into a sitting position. “Blaine’s involved?”

  “Looks that way.”

  “You think he’s trying to sabotage the team?”

  “What else could it be?”

  Gabe pictured Blaine, with his bladelike nose and cool gray eyes. Did he want Gabe’s job badly enough to risk his reputation and his future at Dundee High? He’d built his career with the Spartans. Gabe couldn’t imagine him doing anything so blatantly wrong. Maybe he let his temper get the best of him on occasion. But what Mike was suggesting took planning and forethought and collusion with others. If word ever got out, the boys who were involved would be kicked off the team for good.

  And Blaine would be fired….

  Gabe shook his head. “Blaine’s feeling some resentment right now, but he wouldn’t take it that far.”

  “Do you have another explanation?”

  “Maybe it’s nothing. Sly’s always trying to stir the shit. You know how he is.”

  “I know he’s related to Blaine. I know the twins are, too. If Blaine was going to split the loyalties of the team, he’d start there.”

  Gabe used his hand to move one foot and then the other to the ground. “High school boys don’t give a damn about the politics involved in football on a coaching level. They just want to win.”

  “They care about positions and play time and lettering,” Mike argued. “Who knows what Blaine might be promising them?”

  Pulling his wheelchair closer to the couch, Gabe lifted himself into it so he could head to the bathroom. “Whatever this is, I’m not worried about it,” he said.

  “You’re not?”

  “No,” Gabe lied. “And you’re not my big brother, so quit trying to look after me, okay? You have enough to worry about over there at the ranch.”

  Gabe heard Mike sigh. “Whatever you say, Coach.”

  “I’ll talk to you later, Mike.” Gabe hoped he’d convinced his friend that he wasn’t going to think twice about it. But the situation remained on his mind through his shower, his breakfast and the long drive to town. He knew Blaine would feel pretty vindicated if the Spartans went into a slump. And he couldn’t help thinking how easy it’d be to throw a game—or two or three.

  All it would take is the cooperation of a few key players.

  * * *

  AT EIGHT-FORTY-FIVE, Hannah poked her head into Kenny’s room to find him still in bed. Yesterday, he’d spent the entire day with Tuck and hadn’t come home until just minutes before his midnight curfew. She’d been waiting up for him, but she’d been exhausted and he’d been morose, so they’d gone straight to bed. She was hoping he’d feel better today, that maybe they’d finally have a chance to talk. “Kenny, your alarm went off over a half hour ago. You’re going to be late for practice if you don’t get up.”

  No answer.

  She sat next to him and shook his shoulder. “Kenny?”

  “I don’t want to go to practice,” he mumbled.

  Hannah blinked in surprise. “Practices are mandatory. You know that.”

  “So?”

  “You’ll be benched. If you miss too many, you’ll be kicked off the team.”

  He rolled over and buried his head beneath the covers. “I don’t care anymore.”

  He didn’t care? About football?

  She pulled the blanket down to reveal his dark head. “You’ve never complained about practice before. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” He scowled, his hair rumpled, his eyelids still heavy with sleep. He yanked at the covers, but she didn’t let go.

  “Coach Holbrook said you had a bad day yesterday, but he sounded as though he still has a lot of confidence in you.”

  No response.

  She remembered their exchange after Gabe left, It’s only a game…Tell Dad that! “Is this really about football? Or does it have something to do with your father?”

  Kenny’s scowl deepened. “Dad thinks I have ADHD.”

  “He thinks everyone has ADHD, including me.”

  “Does he have it? Is that why he’s…the way he is?”

  If Russ had ADHD, it wasn’t the worst of his problems. But Hannah tried not to denigrate him in front of the boys. “I’m not familiar enough with ADHD to say,” she said, smoothing the hair out of his eyes.

  Kenny was generally a loving person, but he was going through those typical teenage years when displays of affection were considered embarrassing. Knowing the mood he was in, she thought he might become irritated with her for treating him like a little boy. But he didn’t. He seemed to need the gentle caress.

  “What’s going on, honey?”

  He didn’t answer. He stared toward his window, where the sun glimmered between the slats of the blind. “What was Dad like in high school?”

  Hannah remembered the days when she and Marissa had spent so much time getting ready for dances and talking about boys. Russ had been interested in her ever since the eighth grade, but she’d grown up next door to him and had never considered him boyfriend material. Like most girls her age, she’d idolized Gabe Holbrook and Mike Hill’s younger brother, Josh, and even shy, creative Randy Nunez, who’d gone on to become an artist.

  But when her mother fell ill, her whole world had changed. She’d gone through her senior year in a daze, stubbornly believing Fiona would survive. Russ’s mother had provided Hannah with a warm kitchen and an occasional home-cooked meal. She sometimes sat with Fiona, so Hannah could take a break and go to a movie. She even volunteered to drive Fiona to Boise for chemotherapy.

  Russ’s mother had given Hannah a place to belong, but as the days passed, Hannah soon realized that belonging came at a price. Violet, Patti, the whole family knew how much Russ admired her. They kept pushing them together. Inviting her over and placing her next to Russ at the dinner table. Suggesting a movie, then tossing only one blanket over for her and Russ to share. Sending Russ to help her with the yard work or to spend the night so she wouldn’t have to be alone with her mother in those last weeks. It wasn’t long before Russ was attaching his own price to his friendship and support.

  The helplessness Hannah had felt when she was young seemed to suck at her energy like quicksand. She wished she’d known then what she knew now, wished she would’ve been more assertive and taken a different path. After her mother died, she should’ve gone on to college or seen something of the world. But by the time she recovered from the loss, she was already married to Russ. Then she was part of a family again, was creating a family of her own, and divorce was unthinkable.

  “He was strong and handsome, just like you,” she said with a smile. “It took me a while to notice him because he’d lived next door all my life and, at some point, I’d quit really looking at him, but—”

  “How old were you when you started dating?”

  Hannah didn’t remember dating Russ. They did things with his family but rarely ventured out alone. For one, Russ had never had the money. “I guess I was about seventeen.”

  “And when did you get married?”

  “When I was eighteen.”

  “Jeez, that’s only two years older than me!”

  She’d been so young…. “That’s true.”

  “How did you know you were in love?” he asked.

  Where were these questions coming from? Hannah wondered. She studied her son curiously, trying to figure it out. When he turned red, she realized he was probably interested in a girl. “Why? Have you met someone you think is cute?”

  His blush deepened, and she knew she’d been right. Kenny was starting to think about girls.

  “What’s her name?” she pressed.

  “Tiffany Wheeler.”

  “The church chorister’s daughter?”

  He nodded. “I’m thinking of asking her to Homecoming.”

  “That’d be fun.”

  “Yeah. I like her, but…I can’t imagine falling in love.”

  “That’s good,” she said. “I wouldn’t advise it for several years to come. Give yourself time to get an education.”

  “Will you ever get married again?” he asked.

  Hannah felt her eyebrows notch up. “Who would you have me marry?”

  “That’s a question, not an answer,” he said.

  He’d recognized her dodge. He was growing up so quickly. “Maybe.” And maybe—no, definitely—not.

  “So you think about it sometimes?”

  “Not really.” Not if she could help it. But there were times when she couldn’t.

  “It wouldn’t be hard for you to meet someone,” he said. “All my friends think you’re hot.”

  She laughed. “I’m flattered, but they’re a little young for me.”

  “I don’t want you to be lonely, Mom.”

  Hannah was touched by his concern. “You have a kind, generous soul, Kenny. I’m proud of that. But you don’t have to worry about me. I’m too busy to be lonely,” she said, but she knew that, too, was a lie. Sometimes she watched Rebecca with Josh—the way they touched, stood close, looked at each other—and envied them. She was happier without Russ than she was with him, but she still wished she could’ve had a marriage like Josh and Rebecca’s.

  “Loneliness doesn’t have anything to do with how busy you are,” Kenny said.

  When had her sixteen-year-old become such a sage? “Perhaps.” She rose to her feet. “But we don’t have time to talk about my love life right now. We can discuss this again later, when you’re willing to tell me more about yours.”

  “Not a fair trade,” he said. “You don’t have a love life.”

  “And you do?”

  He grinned.

  “All right, wise guy. Hurry and get ready or you’ll be late for practice.”

  He caught her at the door. “Mom?”

  When she turned back, she saw that his grin was gone. “What?”

  “What if I said I wasn’t going to practice?”

  Was he testing her? Seeing if she meant what she always said about football? “I’d tell you it’s early enough in the season that you can quit if you want to. Do you want to?”

  “Dad would hate it if I did.”

  “It’s not his choice.”

  “He’d still hate it.”

  Because he was living vicariously through Kenny instead of doing something with his own life. “He’d have to accept it. But I’m surprised you’re even talking like this. You used to love football.”

  “I still do,” he said.

  “Then, what’s wrong?”

  For a moment, it looked as if he might have something to tell her. But then his expression changed, and he kicked off his blankets. “Nothing,” he said gloomily. “I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  * * *

  AT PRACTICE, Kenny was careful to avoid Sly and the twins. He didn’t want to be connected to them, didn’t want to see them wearing secretive smiles that said, “You’re one of us.” Minding his own business seemed to work pretty well—until it was time to go and he made the mistake of hurrying out of the locker room. He was hoping to catch a glimpse of Tiffany before she left cheer practice but ran into Coach Blaine instead.

  “You played better today, Price,” he said.

  Kenny glanced behind him. Coach Holbrook wasn’t driving him home today but he could still come rolling toward them at any moment. Fortunately the sidewalk was empty, except for a couple of guys over by the drinking fountain. “I did okay.”

  “Better than okay.”

  Only because he’d managed to block out everything else and simply play the game. But one good practice didn’t mean his problem was gone. It had only gotten worse, because he’d just moved closer to a starting position, where he could actually make an impact on the outcome of a game. “Thanks.”

  Blaine stepped toward him and lowered his voice. “Sly said you were acting a little funny at practice yesterday. Everything okay?”

  “Sure, Coach. Everything’s fine,” he mumbled, but he continued to stare at the ground, wishing Matt would hurry so they could leave.

  “I hear Tiffany Wheeler’s got her eye on you.”

  Kenny looked up in surprise. “How—”

  “Word gets around, and I generally hear it. I’ve worked at this high school a lot of years, Kenny. And I’m going to work here a lot more.”

  Kenny had no idea how to respond, so he said nothing.

  His coach stuck his hands in his pockets and jingled his change. “If she likes you already, she’ll really be impressed next year, when you’re the star of the team, huh?”

  Something about Blaine’s smile told Kenny they were talking about more than Tiffany. Blaine was painting a picture of how it could be in the future…if Kenny didn’t disappoint him.

  “She won’t be too impressed when we lose against Oakridge,” he said. “Everyone’s going to hate that.”

  Blaine opened his mouth to reply, but Boo Taylor came out of the locker room. The moment Blaine saw they had company, he started moving away as if they hadn’t exchanged anything except a “See ya later.”

  When Boo got in his car and shut the door, Blaine turned back. “Have you ever played chess, Kenny?” he asked.

  Kenny played chess with Tuck now and then. He generally lost, but he didn’t really expect to win. The teachers at school couldn’t win against Tuck. “A few times.”

  “Then you understand that occasionally you have to sacrifice a few pawns.”

  Blaine was trying to be clever using a line he’d probably picked up from some movie. Kenny wasn’t impressed. But one word stood out: sacrifice. Blaine wanted him to sacrifice his integrity. Tuck wanted him to sacrifice his career.

  Kenny didn’t want to sacrifice anything. But, thanks to Coach Hill’s heart attack, that was no longer an option.

  “I understand,” he mumbled and breathed a sigh of relief when Blaine finally walked away.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AS THEY TURNED in to the drive that wound through the trees to Gabe’s cabin, Hannah took one last look at Ashleigh and wondered if this idea was a mistake. She’d been hoping to set Gabe up with an attractive woman who could befriend him and draw him out. That was it. But Ashleigh looked as though she had bigger plans, and it was difficult not to feel a little jealous. Wearing a tight black miniskirt with a low-cut blouse that made the most of her impressive bustline, she was definitely registering a “ten” on the “hot pursuit” side of the scale.

  Gabe wouldn’t know what hit him, Hannah thought. But maybe that was okay. This wasn’t about what Hannah wanted. It was about what would be best for him. At the very least, Ashleigh would remind him of the women he’d hung on his arm in the past. Maybe he’d even realize he could have those women flocking around him again, if he’d just let his life resume a more natural course.