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CHAPTER 14

C U SOON WITH SOUP

DAVID

2 - 9.

A record of 2 and 9 going into their first conference game.

They’d scraped by two close wins, but the majority of the games had been won handily by their opponents, who beat them by an average margin of 15 points.

To their credit, the players were working their asses off. They ran hard in practice, challenged each other, and were starting to execute the plays correctly. But still, the team wasn’t clicking. Their timing was still off — passes behind the guy cutting to the lane, two players scrambling for the same man in transition and leaving the basket unguarded.

David tried to figure out the social dynamics of the team. Some of the guys seemed really close, and he knew that a group of the juniors shared a house based on overheard conversations. Those older guys — Monty, Zephyr, Erik, and Horty — had taken the underclassmen under their wing, which David was relieved to see. Jordan, who was, objectively, their best player, seemed completely removed. Jenks was the only one who ever went out of his way to interact with his co-captain, and even then it was evident that Jordan would have preferred to be left alone.

David climbed out of his car, shooting a quick text to the pet sitter he’d found to feed Daisy on game days. He adjusted his tie, stashing his phone in the inside pocket of the navy blue blazer that he’d paired with chinos. He felt silly, but there was something about dressing nicely for games that made him feel more prepared, and even more qualified. Not that it was helping him, but still.

Tonight they were playing Harding University out of Maryland. They’d come in second in the conference the previous year, and based on scouting reports, were a physically and mentally tough team.

David had prepared the guys like he normally would: game tape of the other team, reviewing the plays their opponent would rely on, and practicing the offensive and defensive sets he thought would give them the best advantage going into the game.

He hoped it would be enough.

The guys needed a win. They were at the point in the season where it became almost impossible to fight against the momentum of repeated losses. Losing got easier, comfortable even, and it started to feel like there was no chance.

But David knew it would just take one win. One goddamned win and it would all change. He’d been on teams — hell, he’d coached teams — that had been in the same position, and he’d seen it all turn around.

They just needed to get it done.

After a brief stop in his office to collect the leather folio that held his game notes and lineups, David made his way down to the gym and locker room. Guys were starting to trickle in, and he gave a few fist bumps and nods to the players.

He walked into the gym just in time to hear a hacking cough from the supply closet tucked under one of the pull-out bleachers. He frowned. Must be one of the interns.

Then Sage walked out, pushing the ball rack that they used for warming up. Her face was buried into the crook of her arm as another cough wracked her whole body.

“Fogerty,” David called out, walking across the court toward her.

Sage lowered her arm, and David couldn’t keep the wince from his face.

Her nose was bright red, and there was a slightly glazed look to her eyes; the unmistakable look of someone who’d lost the fight with a cold.

“Coach.” The word was rough and raspy, and immediately sent her into another round of coughing.

“What the hell are you doing here?” This maniac of a woman was out of her damn mind if she thought she belonged anywhere other than bundled up in a bed with hot tea and a bowl of chicken noodle soup.

Sage sniffled and shrugged. “Doing my job?”

He didn’t think she meant for it to be a question.

“Sage,” David started, shaking his head. “You need to go home.”

Her posture shifted as she tried to draw herself up to her full height, undoubtedly about to make some very convincing argument as to why she was perfectly capable of doing her job. It reminded him of the way she’d responded to his offer of help the night when he’d found her car broken down on the side of the road.

Obviously, convincing her to look out for herself wasn’t the way to get through to her.

“If you get the team sick, the season is done, Sage.”

She glared at him, but he could see that that line of reasoning was actually getting him somewhere.

“I’ll have one of the freshmen take stats,” he added. “We’ll take care of it. You need to go home and get better.”

Sighing, she nodded. “Kaley got the jerseys and warmups in there for the guys,” she said, her voice an absolute wreck. “The iPad is already on the bench. Make sure to tell the guys doing stats that sometimes the program glitches if you try to assign a rebound and turnover to the same player in the same possession. You just have to input them twice and it should work.”

David noticed that even though she was obviously suffering, she’d still made the effort to dress nicely for the game. Tight trousers exposed her ankles and a flowing blouse was the color of the pink flowers she’d had on her table. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail.

Why did she have to be so damn pretty?

“Text me when you get home,” he said before he was aware that the words were leaving his mouth.

Sage opened and closed her mouth, confusion on her face. “Do I have your number?”

Shit . “Ah, I guess not. I’ve got yours from your staff paperwork.” He scratched at the hair on his jaw, which he’d managed to trim into something that resembled a well-groomed beard. “I’ll text you so you have mine.”

What he didn’t tell her was that he’d saved her number in his phone weeks ago, under the guise that maybe, someday, he might get the chance to use it.

Sage nodded. “That’s fine.” She started to leave, but turned back, looking at him with that earnest sincerity that was so Sage . “Good luck tonight.”

He offered her a smile. “Thanks, Lefty.” He let himself watch her walk away for a few seconds, trying to channel some of the confidence that seemed to be so natural for her.

But then someone called his name from across the gym, breaking him out of any temporary escape from the pressure of that night’s game. As he crossed the bright, polished floor, his shining Oxfords clicking sharply on the hardwood, he pulled out his phone.

He found her contact quickly, and after a few fumbling taps of his thumbs, he pressed send.

Take care, Lefty. It’s David.

* * *

The locker room door shut behind him.

David took a few steps before slumping back against the stone, rolling his neck in an effort to release some of the tension that felt like a goddamned pinched nerve.

“Some things were better tonight.”

David looked over at Tim, who stood leaning against the opposite wall of the hallway outside the locker room. He looked more thoughtful than pissed off, and for a moment David considered what the stoic man would do if he threw his play board at him.

Probably just frown.

“It sure as hell didn’t feel better,” David muttered, clearing his throat to try to get rid of the rasp of his voice. He always sounded like a wreck after a game.

Another twenty point loss. It wasn’t how David had envisioned his first conference game as a head coach, back in the summer when he was packing up his Bronco to move back south. He’d been so optimistic then, hopeful, imagining things like championship banners and rings.

“The defense was better,” Tim argued, looking intently at him. “The guys were covering the middle well, and they were able to adjust to the added screen in the second half.”

He wasn’t wrong. The defense had done some good work out there.

“And,” Tim continued. “Monty was more vocal out there. Having younger guys step up and act like leaders is going to make a difference for the whole team.”

David shook his head. Tim was right. There were things that were starting to turn around, and he knew it would take time to bounce back. But to lose their first conference game in their home gym stung. It hadn’t helped that Harding’s assistant coach had shot David a cocky smirk every time they’d scored. Asshole .

“What are we going to do about Jordan?”

The question had been heavy on his mind. With every game they played, it looked like the senior’s game slipped farther and farther out of his grasp. Jordan looked lost out there, and yet it seemed like the worse he played the harder he tried to force his shot. In addition to his teammates losing faith in him, he was losing faith in himself.

Tim frowned. “You’ve got to get through to him, Coach. He’s got to trust you, and he’s probably going to need a hell of a lot of reassurance that you believe in him, especially after he’s been struggling. We both know he’s got it in there. He’s just got to get out of his own way and show up and play ball.”

“I’ll set up a meeting with him this week.”

David looked back as he heard the locker room door open behind him. Monty gave him a tight smile, dressed in team sweats and obviously fresh from the shower. He held something out to David, who held his hand out in reflex.

“Miss Fogerty asked me to give you one of these after the game.” Monty dropped something small into his hand. With a lazy wave, he took off down the hall. “Later, coaches,” he called.

David looked down. In the palm of his hand was the familiar green and yellow paper wrapper of a throat lozenge.

A breath huffed from his chest as he unwrapped and popped the lozenge into his mouth. He balled the wrapper up and stuffed it into his pocket.

When he looked up, Tim was watching him with a curious expression on his face.

“She’s a damn good team manager,” was all he could think of to say.

* * *

How r u feeling?

David typed out the text to Sage as he flopped down onto his couch. As soon as he’d gotten home, he’d taken off his suit and changed into sweats and a hoodie, and now that he was comfortable he flipped on the TV to watch something mindless. Daisy jumped up to join him, curling up on his lap like she knew he needed the affection.

There was a loud ping from his phone, and he picked it up to see Sage’s response.

Not great, but okay.

David frowned. She’d looked pretty rough earlier, and he wasn’t sure he bought the casual brush off.

Do u need anything?

Nope.

…Is this u being stubborn?

No.

Also, use real words, Coach. You’re a grown up.

A loud laugh burst from him, startling Daisy, who gave him a disgruntled growl before settling back in. He knew he was lazy over text, but what was a guy who grew up with AIM supposed to do?

He grinned as he typed out his response.

K.

Her reply came immediately.

Stop it.

He laughed again, but paused as he thought about her, sick and alone in her apartment. He wished he could…

Picking Daisy up with him, David ran over to the kitchen, opening a couple of cabinets until he found what he was looking for. Grinning and feeling inexplicably better, he gathered his findings up in a plastic bag and ran back to the couch for his phone.

C u soon with soup.

David was already out the door with Daisy under his arm when she replied.

What? No.

David.

Don’t you dare.

* * *

Sage answered the door as soon as he knocked.

Her nose was even redder than it had been earlier, matching her cheeks. Blonde hair stuck out from where it was piled on top of her head, and she was bundled up in a massive hoodie that almost reached her knees. Her mouth was pulled down into a frown as she glared at him.

“What are you doing here,” she asked, obviously trying hard — and failing — to look like someone who was completely fine.

David held up the bag. “I brought soup.” Then he held Daisy up with his other hand. “And cuddles.”

Sage’s face softened as she looked at the small dog. “Come here,” she said, reaching both hands out toward him.

For a moment, David thought she meant him. Did she want a hug?

He loved hugs. Big hug guy. He’d love to give her a —

Daisy. Right. Of course she was talking about Daisy.

He held out his wriggling dog. Sage gathered Daisy against her chest, quietly cooing as the golden pup lathered her face in kisses.

“How are you feeling?”

Sage shrugged. “It could be worse.”

Rolling his eyes, David looked past her into her apartment. “Can I come in?”

Again she shrugged, more occupied with snuggling his dog than listening to him. He couldn’t blame her. Daisy was an exceptional cuddler. But she stepped aside in a silent invitation before turning and shuffling back inside.

Sage went right to the couch, curling up in one corner and pulling what looked like a handmade quilt up and over her long legs. Daisy settled in on her lap, and David felt overwhelmed with gratitude for the comfort his little dog could provide to Sage.

If he couldn’t, at least Daisy could.

“So you brought soup.”

David nodded, pulling out the can of Campbell’s chicken noodle. “Pot?” he asked as he walked into her kitchen.

“To the left of the oven,” she called, her voice hoarse and rasping.

He rifled through a few drawers before he found the can opener, and in no time at all the soup was warming on the stove. His eyes caught on the copper kettle that sat on the stovetop.

“What kind of tea do you want?” he asked, going straight to the drawer where he remembered her retrieving her tea from when she’d made them breakfast.

“Chamomile?” She sounded surprised.

David quickly found the teabag, drawing on his memories of fixing his mom a cup of tea after dinner when he was growing up as he added a spoonful of honey from the jar he’d found in a cabinet. By the time the tea was steeping the soup was bubbling. It only took him a moment to track down a bowl, and then he was carrying the soup and tea out into the living room.

He couldn’t help but smile when he saw Sage, who, bundled in the hoodie and quilt, looked like a turtle barely peeking its head out of a shell.

Adorable. Absolutely goddamn adorable.

She watched him with a glare that looked like it was more for show than her seriously being annoyed that he was bringing her soup and tea.

“Eat,” he said, setting down the bowl and mug on the low wooden table that sat in front of the couch.

He hesitated, suddenly aware of the fact that he’d barged into her home. Should he leave? Shit, he should probably leave…

“Tell me about the game.” Sage reached for the bowl of soup, blowing on the spoon a few times before bringing the first bite up to her pink mouth. He watched as she sipped at the broth, and when her lips quirked up in her crooked smile he found he could finally breathe again.

“Right. The game.” David circled around the table before lowering himself down on the opposite end of the couch from where Sage was curled up. He’d all but forgotten about the game since he’d walked into Sage’s apartment, and thinking about it again made his skin crawl. “It wasn’t good.”

Sage watched him as she slowly ate the soup. When she didn’t say anything, he continued.

“Some things were better,” he conceded, thinking of Tim’s words earlier. “The defense was pretty good, but offensively we just can’t make the plays happen.” He rubbed a hand over his face as he shook his head. “And Jordan is a mess out there.”

“So what’s your plan?”

David opened his mouth and then promptly shut it again. Honestly, he hadn’t gotten to that part yet, still stuck in the disappointment of their most recent loss.

Rather than pretend, he went for the simple truth. “I don’t know yet.” A rough sigh escaped him. “I need to look at the tape and review the stats, and —”

“If you had a team meeting right now, what would you tell them?”

“I,” David started, trying to imagine himself standing at the front of the windowless classroom where team meetings were held. He could see the guys in front of him, and could perfectly imagine their expressions in the locker room after that night’s loss.

It wasn’t the time for X’s and O’s. Players didn’t need to hear about the plays they’d run incorrectly after a loss.

“I’d tell them that I believed in them.” David leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “It sounds like a goddamn cliche, but that’s what I’d say.”

“I think they’d appreciate hearing that,” Sage said before another coughing fit shook her body. David was reaching for the mug of tea before he was fully aware of what he was doing, and when he handed it to Sage, she reached for it eagerly. She took a long drink, just sitting there and watching him for a moment before she added, “I know that, as a player, I always did.”

Daisy’s collar jingled as she adjusted her position on Sage’s lap. Sage, who must have sensed the dog’s attempt to get more comfortable, extended a leg out along the couch.

Once again, David’s body acted on auto-pilot as he reached over and tugged the quilt down to cover Sage’s now-extended leg. Of course, doing that then moved the blanket away from where it was tucked up around her shoulders.

Sage reached out with her free hand and grabbed at the cloth. “Why are you stealing my blanket?” Her eyes narrowed into what he could now identify as a glare that was meant to convey amused annoyance.

David pointed down at her foot. “I’m trying to cover your feet.”

“This blanket isn’t big enough.”

He stood up. “Do you have any more?”

Sage’s eyes followed his movement. The green of her eyes was more golden than the vivid, bright greens of the plants that were scattered around the living room, and he noticed that while her lashes weren’t especially dark, they matched the brown of her eyebrows.

“Seriously?”

David nodded.

“There’s another one folded on my bed.”

He found the other blanket in question, feeling extremely conscious of the fact that he was in her bedroom. He tried to avoid looking too closely at anything, although he did notice the old pair of Hyperdunks on the floor beside her bed.

When he walked back into the living room, Sage’s eyes were closed. Her chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm.

Carefully, he unfolded the blanket and set it down over her, making sure that it reached far enough to cover her outstretched foot. Daisy was still sound asleep where she was curled up in Sage’s lap. He started to reach for his dog, but paused when he saw that one of Sage’s hands was tucked under Daisy’s belly.

He scrubbed his hands over his face, unsure of what to do.

Whatever his plan was, he didn’t want to wake Sage.

Grabbing his phone, he typed out a quick text. He waited for Sage’s phone to buzz where it sat on the table next to the empty bowl and mug.

Lefty, I’m at my place, left Daisy with u. Text when ur up and I’ll come get her.

He carried the dishes to the kitchen and washed them both, placing them to dry on the towel laid out on the counter top.

A part of him wanted to stay. Sage’s apartment was homey and warm in a way that he hadn’t figured out how to create in his own space yet, and he could easily picture himself leaning his head back against the couch and taking a nap. With how much he’d been working, he needed it.

But he’d run out of excuses to put off the stats and the game tape that waited for him. He had a job to do, and damn if he wasn’t going to figure out what was wrong with his team.

Or with him. The problem could very well be him.