Page 28 of The Way We Touch

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Page 28 of The Way We Touch

“That’s good.” I pat her bottom. “Run get dressed so we can get going.”

We’re pedaling up to Cooters & Shooters a few minutes later with her behind me on my bike in a detachable plastic seat and a bike helmet on her head.

Allie’s already in the kitchen, drinking coffee and chewing her nail when we enter. I go straight to the coffee pot as my niece runs all around looking for Craig.

“You okay?” I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Need one of these?”

“If I drink any more coffee I’ll get the shakes.” She goes to the dishwasher and starts unloading utensils.

I dump half and half in my coffee and grab a stack of napkins, frowning as I watch her. “Are you worried about Austin?”

“It’s his first time trying out, and he’s been practicing so hard. Every afternoon, he throws that football through the tire. He jogs all the way to the bay and back. He watches all the old games, studying the way Jack played.”

“He wants to be a quarterback?” I grab a fork and a knife and roll them in a napkin.

Kimmie returns. “He’s not here.”

“Sit tight, and I’ll scramble some eggs for you.”

Allie takes over rolling up the utensils while I take a carton of eggs and a container of shredded cheese out of the refrigerator.

“He doesn’t just want to be a quarterback, he wants to be a Jack Bradford quarterback.”

“And he’s never played before?”

“His elementary school had flag football.” She grabs a napkin and rolls up another set of utensils. “He played that.”

She’s moving so fast, we’ll have enough utensils rolled up through Sunday. I crack two eggs into the warm pan and sprinkle cheese over them, waiting for them to bubble. Kimmie joins me, taking a piece of bread and putting it in the toaster like I’ve taught her.

“Flag football is actually much safer for younger players.” I don’t like to keep harping on the same old string, but if I had sons, it would be hard for me to let them play tackle football with their brains still developing.

“I don’t know where this sudden interest in the game is coming from. Do you think it’s because of his dad?”

Allie hasn’t told me much about her ex, other than he was into drugs and now he’s in the state penitentiary. He was a dealer, but from what she hasn’t told me—what I’ve only gathered by observing her cautious behavior—he was also abusive.

Their divorce was finalized before she ever came here, but she said he threatened to find her when he got out. The good news is his chances of getting out are slim to none, according to my friend.

A big part of her motive for moving to Newhope was to start over where his threats and bad reputation weren’t hanging over their heads.

“I’ve never known a guy who didn’t want to play football.” Other than Davis, I think, and I see how that worked out for me. “Jack does have that father vibe on lock, though. He slid right into the job when our dad died without missing a beat.”

She chews her lip, rolling the last set of silverware. “What’s going to happen if he doesn’t make the team?”

“Hey.” I put my hand on her arm. “The good news is my brother rarely cuts any of the boys who try out. He always finds a place for them, even if it’s only third string.”

“Austin will be devastated if he’s third string.”

“If he’s been working as hard as you say, Jack will see it.” I glance up at the clock, thinking about what’s been on my mind since last night.

I’d love to see Logan in action, and Allie will feel better if she can get a peek at how her son is doing.

“It looks like you’ve got us more than ready for the lunch crowd.”

“I couldn’t stay at the house alone, so I came up here after Austin left this morning.”

“What if we took a little break and rode out to the high school to check on them? We could bring the coaches coffee or something. Or just blame Kimmie Joy.” I slide the cheesy scrambled eggs into a small paper to-go box, quickly buttering her toast.

“What did I do?” Kimmie frowns up at me, and I forget she’s not three years old anymore.




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