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In the fourth quarter, the Raiders worked hard trying to score, but the Bulldogs held them and they missed a field goal attempt. The game ended with a score of twenty-four to twenty-one, allowing the Bulldogs to continue their historic winning streak.
The crowd went wild and Cara loved watching the players celebrate on the field, jumping up and down, and then all running over to Tyler to make him a part of it. It was a joyous late September night in Destiny, Ohio.
As the happy crowd in the stands said their goodbyes and started to disperse, Cara made her way down the bleacher steps with her friends—only to find Raybourne Fleet stepping into her path when she reached field level.
She pulled up short, slightly startled, foam finger and pennant cradled in one arm.
Going so far as to reach out and enthusiastically seize her free hand in his, he unleashed a huge smile to say, “This is all because of you! You made this happen! And I can’t thank you enough! You brought our son back to life.”
She blew out a breath, a bit overwhelmed, and murmured, “Well, that’s kind of an exaggeration.”
“No,” he insisted, shaking his head, still wearing that enormous ear-to-ear grin, “it’s not. I’ve never seen him so down, and now he’s back up, and we have you to thank. You worked a miracle here, and I won’t forget that.”
When the man released her hand and moved on his way, it left her feeling as if she’d been momentarily swept up in a tornado of relief. And though she did think he’d gone a little overboard, as he tended to do where his son was concerned, in another way, she supposed she had perhaps put a few miracles into play. In one bold, genius move, she’d save the team’s winning streak and brought a guy out of the doldrums. So despite herself—despite certain reservations about Tyler and her feelings for him—the encounter left her wearing a smile of her own.
While this year’s surprise winning streak had begun drawing a TV cameraman from one of the Columbus news stations, this Tyler-coached game had not only several cameras on the scene but even a couple of actual reporters, too, and just then Cara spotted them flocking to Tyler on the field.
A female reporter shoved a microphone in his face as cameramen rushed in as well, and Cara stopped to listen since it was all happening just a few feet away from her.
“How did you end up coaching your old team? How does it feel to be back in the stadium where you quarterbacked so long ago?”
As always, Tyler was cool as a cucumber in the spotlight as he replied, “Tonight isn’t about me—I was just on the sidelines, same as you. Tonight is about how these kids pulled off a great win against a longtime rival. They played with a lot of heart and this is their moment.” Then he reached out an arm to pull Joey Becker up next to him. “Talk to Joey—kid’s a rushing machine with nearly two-hundred yards and two TDs tonight.”
Tyler stepped out of the frame then, leaving Joey to a moment of glory in a move difficult not to admire. The truth was, the media interest in this game was more about Tyler’s presence than the unbeaten small-town Destiny Bulldogs, but he’d refused to let them turn it into another Tyler Fleet moment.
“Look at you—the perfect Destiny Bulldogs cheerleader.”
She flinched, then spun to find the man of the hour at her side. For crying out loud—the one time she’d taken her eyes off him tonight, watching Joey with the reporter, and he’d managed to sneak up on her. When she met his gaze, it was filled with flirtation. His words had come out flirtatious, too, rippling all through her.
But she ignored it to say, “I’m so glad you did this. The whole community is grateful. The last time we beat Crestview was…well, when we were seniors.” Only…ugh. That quickly, she’d clumsily taken them back there, to memories, to the joy and angst and emotions—and the passion—of being teenagers, most of which they experienced together, everywhere from the halls of Destiny High to the backseat of his car. Keep talking. Act normal. “Anyway, this is so great for the kids.”
He cast her a soft sort of smile, watching her eyes, sometimes letting his gaze drop to her mouth. He pinned her in place with his look once more as he said, quietly, “And it’s good for me, too. Like you said. You were right.” He nodded gently. “It’s good to be…out. Out feeling like I’m doing something again, adding something productive to the world.”
She remained too aware of his focus on her, those blue, blue eyes turning her too warm inside for a breezy fall night. “Good, I’m glad.” It was getting a little hard to meet his gaze, because it made her skin tingle beneath her hoodie, so she kept dropping her eyes, even as she asked, “So…you’ll stay on in the role? For the rest of the season?”
“Yeah, absolutely,” he replied, still casting that small, sexy smile her way. Though he gave his head a short shake. “Still not sure what I’m doing, and can’t promise a win every time, but…I’m glad to try. And it’s been a good few days.” That was when he tilted his head, giving her a playful grin. “When did you get glasses?”
“Oh.” She gasped slightly, then reached up to touch them for some reason, smiling back a little because she couldn’t seem to help it. “When I was about twenty, I guess. They’re just for distance—going to a movie, or a sporting event.”
“Well, you look adorable tonight.” More flirtation, his eyes roaming over her, his smile both sexy and sweet.
But it took things a step too far and brought about a moment of strength in Cara, of knowing she needed to put a stop to this—even if her voice came out sounding far more pleasant and teasing than she intended. “You really shouldn’t say things like that, Ty…ler.” Oh crap. She’d almost called him TyGuy, like when they were young. She was being flirtatious, too, despite herself. Even as she reprimanded him. Which meant she wasn’t really reprimanding him at all.
“Why not?” Still with the playful expression.
“Because, like I told you, we can’t be any more than friends.” She was trying like hell to stop with the flirtation, and this time she came closer.
But she wasn’t sure it worked based on his reply. “Well, much as that disappoints me, it doesn’t make you any less adorable.” He didn’t sound the least bit discouraged. When they’d talked at his house, then he’d sounded discouraged—but now, nope, not at all. Lifting him out of his depression had apparently given him back every ounce of confidence he’d ever had. Which, of course, made him even more attractive. Double ugh.
He hiked a thumb over his shoulder then to say, “I need to get into the locker room to tell the guys how great they did, but…any chance you’ll still be here when I come out? We’re heading to Dolly’s to celebrate with burgers and shakes. You’d be more than welcome.”
Oh crud—that sounded…fun. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t open that door with him. “Thanks,” she said softly, “but I’m gonna head home.”
Fortunately, he didn’t argue. “Well, thank you again—for pushing me to do this.”
She simply nodded, lips pursed, eyes not meeting his, feeling awkward now. Because our chemistry is so palpable, but I’m trying to act like it doesn’t exist even when we both know it does.
“’Night, Cara.”
“Goodnight, Tyler.”
Chapter Eight
Another Friday night, another drive to Destiny High School to hopefully bring home one more win for the Bulldogs.
Tyler still couldn’t believe what his life had become in the last month. Tonight would mark the fourth game he’d coached and the team still remained undefeated. With only a handful of regular season games left, they’d already clinched a spot in the playoffs, but spirits were no less high for it and his guys were ready to play just as hard for their school and their town.
The last two matches had been away games, and he was actually excited to be back on the home turf tonight. To his utter surprise, this had become fun. Fun in every way, and fun in ways he couldn’t have imagined.
It was fun to get to know the guys on the team, cheer them on, talk about their aspirations, and even share old stories and memories of his time as a Bulldog. They were all good, hardworking kids—not one bad seed among them—and they made him feel valuable every single day they strategized together, and he hoped he made them feel that way, too. And even though he’d never imagined himself in a coaching role, turned out that it was more fulfilling than he’d expected, and he thought he was pretty good at it. He even liked being called Coach Fleet.
It was fun to be a part of this tight-knit community again, to be reminded what it was like to live in a place where every stop at a restaurant or shop brings a meeting with someone you used to know. Right now, the whole town had transitioned into Halloween mode—jack-o-lanterns glowing on porches, fallen leaves whipping in the wind, miniature white fabric ghosts swaying from tree branches in yards as he passed through town on his way to the game.
Plus his parents liked having him nearby, and he couldn’t deny that getting his mom’s home-cooked meals a night or two a week was another perk. And even if he still thought his dad wished for more for him, he had to admit the guy seemed pretty happy to see him at the Bulldogs’ helm.
Of course, he’d be lying to himself to deny that it was also fun seeing Cara again, and maybe that was the best perk of all. He showed up for football practice early most days, and though daily practice sessions in no way required him to check in at the front office, he did anyway, just to say hi to Principal Turley’s pretty assistant. Friday afternoon pep rallies, now happening weekly as excitement continued to escalate, had become one of his favorite times and he always made a point of seeking her out beforehand then, too, just to say hello or chat for a minute, or tell her how pretty she looked—and she always did, every day—only to see her bat her eyes and dish out a weak admonishment she didn’t mean.
He admired the respect she commanded at work and could see she was the glue that held their old high school together in many ways. Conversely, he also loved that she couldn’t quite look at him when they talked one-on-one—suddenly becoming bashful and sweet in those moments, a far cry from the Cara he’d first encountered at his house back in August.
She was softening toward him. She’d deny it to the death, but her eyes brightened when he walked into a room.
When they were teenagers, he’d always felt like there was something invisible but tangible in the air when the two of them came together, a heat that wasn’t about temperature, a misty magnetism that couldn’t be measured but was so real you could almost touch it. It had tightened his chest, made his heart beat faster, and vibrated down into his boxer briefs, too. And whatever that invisible thing had been—it was still there. Locking them onto each other in a way from which neither could escape. The only difference was—back then both had surrendered to it willingly; now, Cara wouldn’t.
And he knew why, of course. And he couldn’t even blame her.
He wished there was some way to make the past up to her, but he knew there wasn’t.
And part of him felt ashamed for even trying—because, again, he’d made his bed and maybe he should just lie in it. Problem being, how could he ever be content lying in a bed alone when it would make so much more sense for Cara to be there with him.
He fantasized about her at night. In some ways, it was all based on memories, how good it had been between them, how giving their virginities to each other could have been awkward, but instead had been perfect, how they’d been totally in sync, and completely in love. But in other ways it was about now—imagining how it would be to come back together with her now that they were both adults. Could it be any better than it had been back then? In some ways that seemed impossible, but at the same time, he just knew it would be. Because they had so much lost time to make up for. So many youthful inhibitions they would let go of now.
If only she would let it happen. If only she could begin to find her way to forgiveness.
And maybe she could. That timid way she smiled at him gave him hope every single time it happened. And just as much in romance as in football, hope was a valuable thing. How long could she keep resisting the misty magnetism, the heat that couldn’t be measured?
Arriving at school, he put on his game face, focused on what he needed to do. He met up with his guys in the locker room, got them pumped up, went over the game plan using diagrams on a chalkboard, then headed out onto the field.
And as he had at every single match-up so far—possible because Cara and other true blue Bulldog supporters drove to every away game—he found her in the bleachers before the kickoff, all cute and fun in her glasses and team colors, and knew she was his secret good luck charm. Just knowing she was there somewhere behind him put his heart into this job even more. Same as it had when he’d been quarterbacking on this field ten years ago. And as always, she was looking back at him. Damn, he loved that. Misty magnetism at work.
He didn’t hesitate to give her a smile, and his heart swelled when she returned it. It was gonna be another good game.
Cara sat on the stadium bleachers alone. They’d won by a landslide, and when the victory cheers had died down and the news cameras departed, her friends had dispersed. She’d been headed home, too, walking toward the exit—when a hand had touched her arm.
She’d known even before looking up that it was Tyler. This was the first time since coming home that he had touched her in any way whatsoever, but his felt different than anyone else’s. Still. Like smoldering warmth and lightning all at once.
When she looked up, their eyes connected.
He spoke low. “Can I ask you a favor?”
“What’s that?” It had come out in little more than a whisper.
“Hang around a little while? I want to talk.”
She’d tensed, inside and out. But tried to make light of it. “No burgers and shakes with the team tonight?”
He just shook his head. Nothing more. The silence gave her the perhaps smug impression that she was more important.
“Okay,” she’d answered.
But no funny business. No flirting. No romancing.
She should have said those things. She meant to. But they just didn’t come out. She’d simply agreed, no terms or conditions.
And now here she sat under the lights, soaking in the silence, the quiet of the place. She’d never been in the stadium alone at night before. It gave her time to think, to wonder what he had to say to her, and why she’d acquiesced. After finally getting over him following their breakup, she’d seen herself as a strong person. She’d had to be strong—for her mother, and then to get by on her own at such a young age. But it was turning out that her attraction to him was perhaps her greatest weakness.
She watched then as the team filed out of the locker room in their street clothes, unaware that one lone spectator remained. Last in line was their coach, but whereas the younger guys headed toward the parking lot, Tyler made his way into the stands until he was sitting down next to her, peering out on the empty football field.
She could still, in some ways, feel the intense energy of all the excitement that had taken place here tonight, but she could also feel the privacy, and how alone she was with her old love in a place that usually hosted upwards of a thousand people. Somehow the place gave a context and meaning to their aloneness that visiting his lake house had not. History had happened here. History for lots of people, but also a history that was theirs alone.
“So what’s all this about?” she broke the silence by asking.
Their gazes connected and he said, “I just want to thank you.”
“You’ve already done that,” she reminded him.
“This is for something else,” he told her. “This is for…being a big enough person to put your personal feelings aside when you recommended me for this job and then came to ask me to do it yourself. I know you haven’t ever really forgiven me, and so it must have been hard for you to look past…well, the past, in order to make all this happen.”
She was, honestly, surprised he realized that. So far, with him, she’d gotten the idea he just wanted her to let go of their history, pretend nothing bad had ever happened between them. It was strangely satisfying to know he actually understood. So rather than play it off like it was nothing, she tried to answer honestly and keep it real. Even if she’d attempted to act cool and unaffected with Tyler in the beginning, she’d never been good at that.
“It was hard. But it was right for the school. And I don’t mind that it was right for you, too. I’ve…” She stopped, shook her head. “I’ve never wished you ill. I’ve always wanted the best for you. Because we…cared deeply for each other once, and that’s what true caring is—it doesn’t turn vengeful just because it ends.” Okay, she wanted to keep things real, but she’d just replaced the word love with care, because it seemed safer, and continuing to protect herself seemed a valid part of keeping it real.
“I always wanted the best for you, too, Cara. Always.” He stopped, tilted his head, as if somehow trying to look inside her, beyond what he could see. “But you know…other than what you’ve told me, I’m realizing I don’t know much about your life since I left. I half expected you to be married by now, or at least seeing someone. I mean, you’re a catch. So what have I missed?”
“What have you missed?” She repeated the question in a near murmur, mostly because of the way he was looking at her, his eyes seeming to search her very soul. He’d missed…so little in some ways. But so much in others that she could scarcely put it into words.
“I mean, we see each other at school and games, and I feel like we’re…friendly these days, at least. Even if you insist on keeping it at that level,” he added with a playful wink. And then he got more serious again. “Sorry, you bring out the animal in me or something.” He gave his head a quick shake. “Anyway, I feel like I know you again, a little, but I don’t know what else the last ten years has held for you.”
