The One & Only(131)

“This might be our only chance.”

He stared into my eyes, then nodded, as if he got it. Because everyone who loves sports knows that sometimes you only have one shot. Sometimes you don’t have the luxury to think or wait or plan. Sometimes you have to reach out and seize your moment. Your best, last, or only chance. And maybe this was ours. If I couldn’t get over what happened years before. If Lucy couldn’t get over what was happening now. This thing could be over before it ever really began.

I think he understood all of this, but he still shook his head and said no.

“Why not?” I asked, filled with a range of emotions. Disappointment and confusion and guilt. Always guilt. “Because of Lucy?” I glanced down the hallway toward his bedroom. “Or Connie?”

“No. Because of you. Because of us. Because we have some things to work through. We have to be disciplined. We have to be patient.”

“And what if we can’t work through them?” I asked.

“We will,” he said.

“How do you know?” I searched for answers in his eyes and the lines around them. He was every bit as rugged and sexy as he always was, but he looked older than he usually did. He looked his age. Too old for me, I thought for the first time.

“I don’t know. But I’m hopeful that we can.”

“Oh, you’re hopeful?” I said, a caustic edge in my voice that scared me.

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m angry,” I said, finally acknowledging the emotion I’d been suppressing.

“At me?”

“Yes,” I said, shocked by the emotion, the very notion that I could be angry at Coach. “You should have reported it. You should have at least helped her report it.”

“Yes … I should have … I know that now … But, Shea … I honest to God didn’t think he raped her. I still don’t.”

I looked at him, thinking this was the wrong response, feeling a fresh wave of indignation, this time on Tish’s behalf. “That’s not the point,” I said. “That wasn’t up to you to decide.”

“I thought it was,” he said. “So I decided.”

“What about Cedric’s Escalade?” I said, now pacing along the runner in his hallway.

“What about it?”

“You know. The car that nobody in Cedric’s life could possibly afford,” I said, shifting into full-on investigative reporter mode.

“Is that a question?” he said, adopting his prickly press conference voice. “Or an accusation?”

“Did you really think that was okay? For Cedric to be given a car? Just because he was poor—and a good kid? That means you can break the rules? Or did you just want him to play for Walker that badly?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but I kept going. “And what about Reggie? What do you really know about this current investigation? What are you covering up? Because I want to know the truth. I want to know what you’d do to win,” I said, pointing at him.

His eyes went from hurt to pissed, the hue of blue actually seeming to change, deepen. “Well, I wouldn’t let a girl get raped, if that’s what you’re getting at …”

“But you’d look the other way, wouldn’t you?” I demanded, my voice shaking. I hated myself for asking these questions, but I’d hate myself more for not asking them.

“Look, Shea. If even one percent of me—even half a percent—believed that Ryan had hurt that girl, I would have reported it … And I sure as hell wouldn’t have let you go out with him. Think about it.”

“I am thinking about it,” I said, staring at him, my arms crossed.

“And?” he said, raising his voice.

I took a deep breath, now on the verge of tears that I managed to blink back. “From the time I was a little girl, watching that SMU death penalty press conference, I really thought you were different. I thought you were one of the good guys. Unlike the other coaches. Unlike my own father. You were one of the few who would never cheat. One of the few who didn’t believe that winning was … everything. The only thing,” I said, quoting Vince Lombardi, his hero.

Coach shook his head and said, “Wow. And you think making love would have fixed this?” He motioned in the space between us, our huddle of two.

“Just tell me,” I said.

“Tell you what? What do you want to know?”

“I want to know … is winning everything to you?”

“Do you think it is, Shea? Is that what you think?”

“Did you choose not to report the incident because of the Cotton Bowl? What if the season had been over? Or what if Ryan had been a redshirt? Or a benchwarmer? Would you have handled it differently? Would you have taken her more seriously?”