Page 7

“Head Coach Brandon Beiler!” I bellow through the halls of the athletic complex.

So damn happy. Happy to be back at it, on the field, the roar of the crowd echoing in my soul.

Happy Heacock is locked up and Beiler is finally in charge.

Happy Lyndell is here to share it with me.

And happy because my girl will be on the sidelines.

It's a good day for football.

“Interim!” Beiler yells back. I shake my head as I close the distance between us.

“Dude, don’t play that game with me. It’s permanent. I know it, the university knows it, the team knows it…and you know it.”

“I don’t know it,” he mutters obstinately. My laughter fills the hallway, his lips twitching with a half-smile. “I know it, but I don’t know it .” He stresses the last couple words.

“Know it. Trust it. Your position is permanent.” He gets a gleam in his eyes that I don’t like.

“Your position on the team could be permanent.” My smile vanishes instantly. My chest tightens uncomfortably.

“Fuck off, Brandon,” I say, my anger obvious. Why would he say such a thing to me?

He holds my glare, his eyes earnest, his expression open and hopeful. “I’m serious.”

I sigh, the weight of lost dreams and disappointment are heavy as I lean against the wall. “My arm is chewed, I can’t throw. My leg won’t withstand the abuse of being tackled.”

“No, but you can coach.”

My body locks up tight. He can’t be serious. “What?” I was not expecting that.

His smile is so big and infectious enough that my own lips stretch to match his. Excitement like anticipation thrumming through my blood. “Schedule a meeting with your advisor and I’ll be there. Let’s get you the right educational requirements and get you on the coaching staff.”

“Serious?”

“Serious.”

“I don’t…I don’t know what to say.”

Beiler’s head tips back as he laughs. “That’s a first. Tyrone Wicawiil speechless!”

“Alright, alright. It’s not that funny.” But it is.

After the accident, I didn’t think I’d ever be on the field again.

Then when several teammates and coaches went to bat for me with the university, they found me a way to still be a part of the action.

Being the mascot has been an incredible experience…

but to coach? I never thought of it, honestly.

I’m in my last year of my Special Education degree.

Lyndell is everything to me, and I want to help others just like him.

Help them find their place in society where they can be valued rather than degraded.

Is there a way I can do that and coach football?

“I’ll think about it.”

He pats my shoulder. “Talk it over with Lyndell and perhaps a certain photographer?”

“She’s amazing,” I gush before snapping my mouth shut.

Beiler chuckles. “She is.” He continues down the corridor, tossing over his shoulder, “Schedule that appointment with your advisor and let me know so I can be there.”

“Thanks, Head Coach Brandon Beiler.”

That was completely and utterly unexpected.

I have a lot to think about, I guess. But first, I have a crowd to rev up.

On the field, I run from one end to the other, pumping my arms, pitting seating section against section in an effort to determine who’s the loudest. I’m sweating, I’m hot, but my smile won’t quit.

Not that anyone can see it. Before the 1 st quarter begins, I spot Edee near the student section.

She glances up from behind her camera, her face lighting up when she sees me rushing her direction.

Her eyes widen and she lets out a squealing laugh as I bend low to wrap my arms around her legs and lift her up.

She starts snapping pics of the crowd as they go wild at my antics.

“What has gotten into you?” she speaks loud enough for me to hear her.

I answer honestly, “Hope.”