So I get off the bus and jog to the sports center. God, but I can barely lift my feet, and it’s cold. Too damn cold for this time of year. It’s like a storm is brewing.
Shaking off the foreboding, I tear through the double doors of the sports center and let them slam behind me. Inside it’s warm, but I still shiver.
Two women in dark suits talking outside an office stop and stare at me.
Ignoring them, I hurry down the familiar corridors of the center, turn the corner, and almost plow into Jeff and Tyson, from my football team. They stagger back, confused, then grab me, pat my back and start asking when I’m coming back to training.
Fuck. I escape with a few noncommittal answers and set off again, finally reaching Coach West’s office.
He’s standing outside, a frown on his face.
“Dylan.” His tone is as crisp as his white T-shirt. “You’re so late I thought you weren’t coming. Again.”
“The bus,” I pant. I wipe a hand over my mouth. “It was late.”
“And you’re out of shape,” he says, sounding disgusted. “Come on in.”
Bowing my head, I enter his office and sink into the plastic seat across from his desk. Warily I watch him as he circles the desk and sits behind it. Formal. Distant. Displeased. Coach West has always been chatty and friendly, and the change sends a trickle of ice down my spine.
Then again, what’s there to be afraid of? I’ve already failed the first year of college, lost my scholarship—and am about to tell Coach things haven’t changed. At least, not for the better.
“How is it going?” Coach gives me a long look from his steel-gray eyes. “I don’t see you much around here these days.”
“That’s because I’m not. I don’t have time for college and practice.”
“You need to fight for what’s important to you, Dylan. You’re star material. You’re wasting the opportunity of a lifetime, throwing away your talent.”
I shrug, suddenly defensive. It’s hard, letting down the people who believed in you, and there aren’t many like that in my life.
“I am fighting for what’s important to me.”
“And what’s that?”
Coach knows a bit of what has been going on at home, though not everything.
“My brothers,” I say. “I’m responsible for them and things haven’t been too good lately. Sorry, Coach, but my future career isn’t worth more than their wellbeing.”
His eyes turn somber. “I see. Many people still have faith in you, Dylan. They hope you will come back to college and resume practice.”
“I can’t afford it.”
“I can help you.” He folds his hands on the desk and leans forward, the ice in his gaze thawing. “It’s not gonna be easy, but I can find you a smaller scholarship, if only you promise you’ll come to practice regularly and attend classes.”
But that’s the whole point, and he isn’t getting it. “I can’t.”
“I’m sure family would help out if you asked. Aunts, uncles, cousins…” He trails off when I shake my head. “Your friends?”
“They work. They don’t have time to babysit for me every day.”
Besides… it’s not as if I was really there for them. When I think of how I treated Ash when he was down, because I was blind to anyone’s troubles but mine, I wince. As for Tyler and Zane… I was already too caught up in Dad’s comings and goings, Teo’s recurrent sickness and the ever-mounting bills to do much for them.
Payback is always a bitch. And talking about work and time… I glance at my watch and do a double take. Fuck.
“Coach, I have to go.” I rise from the creaking plastic chair. “I’m already late for work.”
“Okay, listen.” Coach rubs a big hand over his face. “Think about it. Do something about it. I really want to help you. You’ve shown great promise, and you’re a good person. Bear in mind, this offer won’t be open forever. Second chances exist, but you need to fight for them. This is it, Dylan. This is your second chance. Take it.”
Second chances. Why does my mind immediately flash to Tessa? Stupid, Dylan. That ship has sailed. And it was your doing.
“Dylan?” Coach is observing me. “Are we on the same page?”
I sigh, nod—because what the fuck can I say?—and hurry out.
***
I leave work early, which earns me a major stink-eye from the gym manager, to pick my bros up from the bus stop. No way am I letting Miles get beaten up again. Putting aside the danger to my little brother’s life, which is my number one worry, child protective services could take him from my custody.