Page 39 of Hard Count (Newhouse University #4)

“That’s why you kept the house.” Her lower lip trembles as she fiddles with her charm bracelet. I’m happy to see she has a few new ones. "For me to come back. It would be like I never left."

“Yes, I wanted you to have your home if the courts ever saw things my way. In the meantime, I didn’t want to make your life harder while you lived with her. I wanted you to have some good memories growing up.”

“All of my best memories were with you. She wasn't bad all the time but I needed you too.”

I rip my hat off my head and run my hand through my hair. “I did what I thought was right. My hands were tied the moment she got custody. If I could have kidnapped you, I would. I tried my best. I never stopped trying to get you here with me. It finally worked.”

She gasps as realization sinks in. “It’s why you said you’d pay for college if I came here.

It wasn’t to hold it over my head like she made me believe.

I feel like an idiot. I should have come to my own conclusions.

Instead, I trusted her. I let her tarnish our relationship. I’ve been awful to you.”

“No, you haven’t. You’ve been a teenager. There’s nothing you’ve said to me that wasn’t deserved.”

“What about the things I didn’t say? The texts I ignored? The calls I declined? I never met you halfway.” She pushes her hand into her chest.

“You ignored me because you felt ignored by me. I didn’t let you see how much I love you. All of this falls on me. I’m the one who didn’t do enough.”

“She told me you only called because you had to.”

I huff a laugh. “That sounds like Laura. I called because I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to hear your voice.” I exhale a sigh. “It doesn’t help that I let work take over. It kept me busy and my mind off of you. Otherwise I would constantly be worrying or wondering what you were doing.”

"But you were still wondering. You wrote me a letter almost every day asking me everything under the sun and they all went unanswered." A tear drips down her face as she bites down on her bottom lip to keep it from quivering.

"I did. I promised you I would write. I wanted to keep at least one of my promises even if you didn't know I was doing it."

“What do we do now?” she asks.

“I’d like to have a relationship with you without your mom standing between us anymore. I’d like to get to know the woman that has Nash Pierce tripping over his feet.” I give her a knowing look that makes her roll her eyes.

“I’m not sure where to start. Everything feels so messed up.”

“Why don’t we start with what we know? If you aren’t busy, why don’t you come to practice this afternoon? You can help us firm up our strategy against New Orleans.”

She tightens her jacket around her. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I miss having my assistant coach by my side.” I rub the top of her head and mess up her hair.

“Dad,” she whines, ducking out of my reach and I think that’s the best thing I’ve heard in a long time. “I’ll think about it. I don’t want to get in the way.”

“You wouldn’t be. You’re already a vital part of this team. We needed this.” I hand her back the clipboard. “We need you. ”

She laughs as a few more tears fall. “Nash told me the same thing a few months ago. I didn’t think you believed in this stuff,” she says, swiping at her face.

“I believe in hard work. I always have. I want the guys to have as many tools in their arsenal as they can. I believe in you. You’ve been our secret weapon all season. I’m sorry I made you think otherwise.”

“We’ve both said things we didn’t mean. I’m sorry too.” Her phone buzzes beside her. Her mouth curls up in a smile as she reads her message. “It’s Nash checking in.”

“I had a feeling. I’ll let you get to class. Practice starts at three.” I stand and stretch my back.

“Would it be okay if I get a hug?”

“You don’t even have to ask.” This isn’t the first time I’ve given Drew a hug since she moved back home. But it’s the first time I’ve felt her hug me back.

I know I have a lot of work to do and trust to rebuild but all her hurt and pain is because she loved me once. For a short time I was a good dad to her. I was a man of my word. The only thing I can do is show up and prove that I can be that man again.

Cursing, I play back the footage from yesterday's practice. Drew is right. Nash is over compensating. I was disappointed she didn't stop by yesterday but I'm not surprised. I'm not naive enough to think one conversation is enough to change everything overnight.

You can't erase ten years of hurt with a snap of a finger. The same way I haven't been able to shake all the guilt and regret that's built up over time.

I turn my focus back on my computer screen.

How am I going to fix Nash's new habit of thinking he needs to be the quarterback, lineman, and the running back all at the same time?

I know he's under a lot of pressure to get this win and secure our playoff spot but he needs to lock in and execute the play.

A knock on the door breaks my focus on my notes. "Come in," I yell, finishing my thought before whoever walks through the door distracts me. I only have ten minutes or so before I need to be on the field for practice.

"I hope it's okay that I'm here. I know you're busy." My daughter's soft filters through my office as she stands by the door. Damnit . I hate that she thinks she's bothering me or she's not welcome here anytime. Or even worse that she believes she needs to make an appointment.

"I'm not. You can always stop by for any reason," I say. "Or no reason at all." I smile. "I hope this means you're joining us for practice."

"If that's okay." She takes a few steps forward. Her hands tighten on the straps on her backpack. My molars grind thinking about how nervous she is to be here .

"Yes. I'm glad you're here. I was just making a few notes before I head out." I nod to my legal pad of notes.

"That's actually why I came early. I have an idea to help Nash.

" She walks deeper into my office. Slipping her bag off her shoulder, she sits in one of the chairs across from my desk.

"I went through all of the game film I had on New Orleans again last night.

" She opens her backpack and fishes out a stack of papers stapled together.

She extends her arm slightly but pulls back, hesitating to hand them over.

"Let me see what you came up with," I say, holding out a hand.

She lets out a breath and visibly relaxes.

I take my time reading through all of her analysis and research.

"This is really good." I jot a few things down on my practice notes.

"How did you figure out they'll use a dime defense? "

"Because our quarterback leads the conference in passing yards and touchdowns." She smirks. "Every team they've played with a QB ranked in the top five, they've run their defense with six defensive backs. Which means we can slip through the cracks. It would also mean moving the chains slower."

"That's fine. I don't mind hogging the ball. What happens once they realize we're running the ball and not throwing?" I ask, flipping through a few more pages.

The left side of her mouth curls into a mischievous grin.

It's the same one she had when she'd get a wild idea as a kid.

She's hard to say no to when she smiles and her dimple pops in her cheek.

"We have the number one quarterback on our team.

We give them what they want and show them why he's at the top. "

"I like the sound of that," I say, my grin matching hers. "Should we get out there and put the boys to work?"

Coach Garcia meets us in the hallway and walks with us out to the field.

"Are you going to help me on defense, Drew, or stick with your dad on offense?

" he asks, smiling down at my daughter. Garcia and I have been working together for over seven years.

If someone asked who my closet friend is, it would be him.

Drew clutches her clipboard against her chest as her eyes drift to the field. The players are stretching and warming up. When Nash notices us walking in his direction, a smile stretches across his face.

For so long I've let my fear of Drew coming second to football dictate her involvement with the game and other athletes. I should have known that the game doesn't get in the way when you're with the right person. They prove this to me every day.

"What's the plan today, Coach?" Nash asks. I ignore the wink and ' hi, little fox ' he mouths to my daughter.

"We were just discussing this. Did you decide who you wanted to work with?" I ask Drew.

She pushes out her lips and pretends to think, eyeing Nash and the rest of the team. "I'll work with Garcia."

Nash chuckles and nods in understanding.

"Good luck," she tell him, as she walks away to round up the defense .

With his head turned in her direction, he asks, "do you know what she's up to?"

"How do you know she's up to something?" I narrow my eyes, questioning him.

"When that dimple pops, it only means one thing," he replies confidently.

I huff a laugh. "You're right. We need to stay alert. She thinks New Orleans is going to be running a dime defense."

"They expect us to pass the ball?"

I nod. "Which means we're going to run it. Start with the basic routes and let's see how fancy we have to get. She's not going to take it easy on you."

"I wouldn't want her any other way." He smirks in a way that makes me want to act like her dad and not his coach. "Yes, sir," he says when he clocks my face, dropping his smile and putting his helmet on.

The team lines up after a huddle from Nash and last minute instructions from Drew and Garcia.

Crossing my arms, I stand on the sideline and wait to see how many yards we're able to get if the defense is anticipating a run.

Only that's not what happens. Now I see why he calls her a fox. She's crafty.

"Oh, come on! What was that?" I ask, slapping my clipboard against my leg. "You let the defense run right into your house," I yell at my O-line.

"Nash said they were going to run pass coverage," Marcus explains .

"I don't care what he said. I care what they do." I point to the defense. "Run it again!"

Drew and Garcia have a quick discussion and relay the information to the defense. What is she going to try this time. Nash snaps the ball but before he can even hand if off to Adrian, Eli takes him down. She called a blitz. I march onto the field. Two can play this game.

"Bring it in," I call the offense into a huddle.

"Sorry, Coach. They came too fast. I'll be prepared this time," Nash says, taking a water bottle from Asher.

"She's testing you." I'm irritated that I didn't think of this myself, but I'm fucking proud of my daughter for knowing how New Orleans would react to our run game. "Once they know we're staying on the ground, they are going to switch to the blitz."

"I have to get rid of the ball faster," Nash confirms.

I nod. "Throw it Lucas. Let's make them chase after us. Line up for the run but blow past the line and don't stop until you are in the end zone," I say to Lucas. He nods in understanding.

Drew's eyes meet mine and I smile and nod while keeping my face as neutral as possible.

I don't think I have a tell but my little girl notices everything.

It wouldn't surprise me if she is counting how many steps I take to get back to the sideline and somehow that translates to me calling a new play.

I wait patiently as the ball is snapped and the play is in motion. I've learned how to be stoic on the sideline if needed to deceive coaches on the other side of the field .

"Oh, come on!" Drew yells, walking on to the field with her hands in the air. I cover my mouth to keep from laughing.

Nash doesn't bother hiding his smile. "Better luck next time, little fox," he taunts her.

Her eyes narrow on the both of us and then she's gathering the defense in for a tongue lashing.

"She's good," Garcia says, stepping up to me. "She could run the whole team."

"I believe you're right," I reply, proudly. She has been running the practice and the team all season. This isn't my best season at Newhouse because of anything I've done. It's Drew. It's her ability to see beyond the play.

"You know…" his voice trails off. I already know what he's thinking. He doesn't even need to finish the thought.

"I've already put it in motion."

He smiles knowing that he just hit a jackpot. "I'll follow up as well. I'm going to miss you."

"You can't get rid of me that easily." I punch his arm.

"It'll be nice to go out a champion," he says, watching Nash connecting another long pass with Lucas.

I nod. "One game at a time. Let's get past New Orleans."

That philosophy has never steered me wrong. It's always one play, one moment at a time. You can think two steps ahead but you can't predict the future. Stay in the moment. Take advantage of the opportunity in front of you because you may not get a second chance to get it right.