“God forbid I have an off fucking day,” I snap.
“An offday?” He growls. “You’ve had an off week. One that almost cost us the last game.”
I know he’s right, but does he have to fucking rub it in my face?
“Brody.”
The sound of Ellie’s voice makes my eyes snap over to her. She’s walking toward us with a look of concern on her face.
“Just a minute, baby. I’m just dealing with Easton,” he growls.
She stops in front of us, looking between the two of us. “I’ve heard. But, how about you let it go, okay?”
Coach's brows furrow as he looks down at his wife. “What?”
“Let it go,” she tells him, and from her tone, she doesn’t want him to argue.
He lets out an annoyed huff before looking at me. “Do better,” he snaps.
He kisses Ellie on the top of the head before storming to the locker room, leaving her alone with me.
When she smiles up at me, it takes everything in me not to break.
“How are you doing?”
Fuck. Fuck! How is it that a simple question hits me so fucking hard?
Because she’s the only one who’s ever seen me at my worst. She found me that night outside the park, broken and scared.
She was everything I didn’t know I needed. She’s always been like that; more of a mother to me than my own mom.
I love my mom, don’t get me wrong, but she was weak. No matter how many times my father hurt me, how many times I begged her to leave, to take me and run, she didn’t.
She’d just tell me she loves me, that she was sorry, but she couldn’t. After a while, I stopped asking for help and just accepted that this was my life.
Then there was Ellie. She always seemed to just know. Know what was going on at home, what I needed at that moment. From when I was a kid, to right up to that night.
She saw me crying on the ground, covered in my own vomit, and took me back to her place. She cleaned me up, clothed me, and brought me home. She held me in her car as I cried. Never once did she ask me what was wrong, or what happened. She was just there.
She kept me from doing stupid things in the wrong frame of mind.
This woman has always meant so much to me. When I lost Bennett, I lost her, too. His whole family, really.
There was a point when Coach Creed saw me as his own kid, before he hated me.
“I’m fine,” I tell her, but I know she can see it’s a lie.
“I’m here, you know? If you need anything. Anyone to talk to, I’m here.”
The back of my eyes sting, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep it together.
I give her a stiff nod.
“And so is Bennett.”
That caught me off guard.
“What?”