Wild Angel

Chapter 1-3

It was still too early to get Alex, but he headed to the football field to watch the end of practice. He took a seat in the bleachers at the fifty-yard line and spotted his foster son just in time to see Alex reach for a pass, frowning when the ball slipped through his hands. Coach Wells called for a brief water break and directed Alex to the stands.

“What’s up?” the teenager asked when he reached Luke.

“Got here early, so I thought I’d watch for a bit,” Luke replied.

Alex smiled and scrubbed a hand through his brown hair. There was an excitement in his blue eyes that Luke had only just begun to see since the first practice last Monday.

“Having fun, aren’t you?” he inquired teasingly.

“Yeah. I keep dropping the ball, though, and I think Coach Oxhart is getting frustrated.”

“You’re dropping it because you’re reaching for it even when Brady puts it right in your hands. You know the routes, so put your body where the ball is going, keep your arms and hands closer in, and let the ball come to you. Don’t reach for it unless you have to.”

“Maybe you should coach,” Alex remarked with a sly gleam in his eyes. “Then maybe I’d get it.”

“Don’t you start in on me, too,” Luke muttered. “You’d better get back to practice.”

Alex headed over to the bench to get a drink, and not a minute later, Coach Wells strode over to the stands. There was a smug twist to his mouth, and Luke suspected Greg had put Alex up to the comment about coaching.

“Why don’t you come down on the field?” his former coach asked.

Luke reluctantly agreed and followed Greg over to the team. Several of the players paused for a moment to greet him, and some even expressed excitement about starting his classes in two days, reminding him why he endured the torment from his colleagues.

“I’m surprised to see you on the field, Conner. I heard you were all washed up.”

He turned his attention to Derek Jensen. Irritation surged at the defensive coach’s taunt, but he swallowed the urge to return the insult.

“Would you mind doing me a favor?” Coach Wells inquired.

“Depends on the favor,” Luke replied.

“I want to prove a point because Jensen seems to be laboring under a delusion.”

“I’d really rather not be dragged into this, Coach.”

Jensen snorted and muttered under his breath, “At least you know you’ve lost your edge.”

Luke clenched his jaw. Jensen was his age—just a few months older. They’d both enjoyed successful college football careers, and he now wondered if Derek’s attitude was simple rivalry. He forced himself to take a deep breath, but the words were out of his mouth before he could question the impulse behind them. “Just this once, Coach Wells. Alex! End zone!”

“Never gonna happen,” Derek remarked.

Alex lifted his hands in inquiry, so Luke motioned throwing a ball. With a nod, the teenager sprinted down the field. Thrill speared Luke when Coach Wells jokingly snapped the ball, and he reveled in the familiar texture beneath his splayed fingers as he jogged back a couple steps. Jensen charged for a tackle, and Luke launched the ball to Alex. He ducked just before his opponent slammed into him and flipped Derek over his back, shaking his head at the sloppy tackle. Alex effortlessly caught the ball in the end zone, effectively putting Luke’s advice to use, and Luke turned to find Derek lying on his back in the grass, gasping to regain his breath.

“How’d that work out for you?” Luke asked. He bit back the rest of what he wanted to say, but couldn’t stop thinking it. Who’s washed up?

Inexplicably, the other man smiled. Shaking his head, Luke offered him a hand up, surprised when Derek took it. The rest of the team and the other coaches had gathered around to comment on the play and heckle the defensive coach.

“I’d say that was at least a seventy-yard pass,” Coach Wells remarked a little too casually. He laid a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “I wasn’t lying when I said Luke is the best player I’ve ever coached, Derek.”

“I get it. And I take it back, what I said,” Derek replied, still wheezing a little. He let out a gasping chuckle. “You are most definitely not washed up.”

“Thanks. You all right?”

“Yeah.” Derek brushed himself off and stooped to retrieve his whistle and hat. “I owe you an apology. I just can’t understand why, with your talent and record as a player, you don’t want to coach. It’s like you just gave up.”

Luke started to argue that he hadn’t, but in a way, he had given up. It wasn’t insanity or resilience or even stubbornness that prevented him from coaching. It was resignation. The plans he’d made for himself before that tragic summer had fractured, and when he’d been faced with the decision of where to teach, not one choice available had offered the proximity to Northstar, the classes he wanted, and coaching, so he’d been forced to choose. Football had lost.

“I guess I did give up,” Luke conceded. “Just a little.”

After the others had returned to practice, Greg observed, “You miss it.”

“I never said I didn’t. Football isn’t the problem.”

“Then maybe it should be the solution. It helped your senior year to take your mind off what happened, so maybe it’ll help you again.” Coach Wells winked. “So might a certain English teacher. She’s not as blind as the rest of them, you know.”

“I’m beginning to get that impression,” Luke replied. “And I promise, I will think about coaching.”

“Remind me to thank Ryan.”

“Why?”

“Because that is the first time you’ve said you’ll think about it.”

For a Monday night, the eight-lane bowling alley was busy. Ryan stepped up to the counter to get her shoes and a lane for her, Luke, and Alex and nearly had to shout to be heard over the music, chatter, and crashing pins.

“Lane six,” the attendant told her.

“Thank you.”

She took her rental shoes to the assigned lane and set them on one of the chairs at the high-top table above it, then stripped out of her pullover and hung it on the back of the chair. When she sat to change her shoes, the tabletop snagged her attention. Like all the other tables in the bowling alley and its eatery, this one contained a collage of photographs, articles, and mementos of local attractions. Lane six’s theme was apparently Devyn High School athletics.

How’s that for coincidence?

Trailing her fingers lightly over the glass, she noticed a picture of the football team on the field and jerked back when she spotted her ex flanked by a younger Luke and a boy she recognized but had never met. The trio had their arms around each other’s shoulders and beamed at the camera as the oldest boy held the state championship trophy high. A chill seeped through her as she stared at Luke and her ex. She’d seen pictures of them together at school and around town and knew they’d been good friends, but opening her mouth this morning had changed the dynamic, made it personal to her. She could just imagine getting entangled between them, either because of her lingering issues with her ex or because of whatever issues Luke might still have with him.

What was I thinking? I can’t be friends with Luke. It’s just too complicated.

“Since you already paid for bowling, it’s only fair I pay for dinner.”

Shock jolted her at the sound of Luke’s voice, but amazingly, she contained the scream. Suppressing her fright, she replied, “You’ve got a deal.”

Now that he was here, it was impossible to hold on to the thought that they couldn’t be friends. If she were honest with herself, she wanted to be and had for a long time. She glanced at the photo again, and Luke’s wide-open smile in it quieted her fears. It was ridiculous to continue allowing what had happened with her ex to prevent her from making new friends and moving on with her life. She lifted her gaze to Luke’s face again and caught him watching her with a quizzical frown.

“What?” she asked.

“You look… spooked.”

Insightful, aren’t you? She smoothed her expression and smiled. “Well, you startled me.”

He clearly didn’t buy it, but he nodded and said, “Anyhow, this is my foster son, Alex Beaumont. Alex, this is Ryan Connelly. You’ll have her for freshman English.”

Ryan stood to properly shake Alex’s hand. He was a good-looking kid with brown hair, blue eyes, and a hesitant but open smile. He was a couple inches shorter than Ryan yet, but his long-limbed, lean build told her he wouldn’t be for long.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Connelly,” he said.

“I’m sure you can call her Ryan outside of school,” Luke remarked. “She informed me this afternoon that we’ve moved beyond stiff formality.”

Ryan laughed. “Indeed we have, so yes, Alex, please call me Ryan.”

“Thank you,” the teenager replied.

“You’re welcome. And you’re up first to bowl.”

After he’d changed shoes and left to find a ball, Ryan turned to Luke. “He is quite a polite young man. Your doing?”

“Surprisingly, I had very little to do with it. So, what shall we have for dinner?”

“Are you in the mood for pizza?”

“Sure. What kind?”

“Pepperoni? With bread sticks and root beer, if that’s not asking too much.”

“Not at all. Be right back.”

She watched him walk over to the eatery’s order window, and a feline grin curved her lips as she recalled her encounter with him that afternoon. If she’d thought about it, she would’ve waited to honk and enjoyed the view a little longer. With that effortless, graceful gait, it was easy to believe what Coach Wells had told her, that Luke was a natural athlete.

Shaking her head, she turned her attention to his foster son. When Alex bowled a strike, she figured she’d be bringing up the rear tonight. It didn’t matter, of course, because she suspected she would have a great time no matter what the score. It had been too long since she’d had a chance to get out like this, with friends. It had probably been a while for Luke, too.

We misfits need to stick together, she mused.

She selected a bowling ball and stepped up to the line. Exhaling in mock seriousness—which got a laugh from Alex—she aimed, swung the ball back, and let it go, then watched as it took out all ten pins. Her strike was met by cheers from her companions. Luke’s answering spare brought joking condolences.

“Someone has to lose,” he remarked. “And when it comes to bowling… it’s usually me.”

“You’d think, with your prowess on the football field, you could conquer any sport,” Ryan teased. “After four state championships in high school and a national championship in college, knocking down ten pins should be a piece of cake.”

“Uh, no. Bowling requires a completely different throwing technique and mindset than football.”

His jocular tone and the relaxed smile that played across his face led her to believe that he wasn’t nearly as bad at bowling as he said, and she added his humility to the list of things she appreciated about him. Ryan laughed softly and dropped her gaze to the table. The man sitting across from her more closely resembled the boy in that picture than he had in all the time they’d worked together, and it struck her that she’d never seen him so at ease. He was so withdrawn at school that she hadn’t given much thought to how he might be away from it, and she was excited to find out.

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you look so much like this kid,” she said, tapping the picture. “I mean, you haven’t changed much at all, but I’ve never seen you smile like this. Or much at all.”