Completing the Pass by Jeanette Murray Page B

“Sorry, sir.”
    â€œWarm up,” he growled, then walked away toward Coach Jordan.
    â€œPleasant fellow,” Trey said mildly, stretching his arms as if he were actually going to participate.
    â€œHow’s the ankle?” Josh asked. Behind him, he heard reporters and photographers yelling frantically for Trey’s attention. Trey didn’t turn around. “The adoring public wants to know.”
    â€œIt’s . . . still attached.” Looking hesitant, Trey bent over to stretch his hamstrings. “Between you and me, it’s not healing as fast as I thought it would. Cass says I’m getting too old for this shit. Maybe she’s right.”
    â€œNot a chance,” Josh said loyally. “So you’re definitely out for preseason. No big. You’ll just surprise everyone when you step onto the field for game one.”
    Trey looked down at his ankle, both taped and wrapped with supportive athletic wrap. His running shoe was loosely laced, and the whole thing looked half-again as big as his other ankle. “Yeah. Something like that.”
    Josh felt the first tingle of worry, but shook it off. “Business as usual, right?”
    â€œBusiness as usual,” Trey agreed. “Hey, when we get home, you should come over for a cookout. It’s about all Cassie and I can manage, food-wise, that tastes good. But we have some guys over often enough.”
    â€œSure, yeah.” Josh wouldn’t have called himself a loner by nature. But he’d just managed to feel more comfortable with his childhood friends than with the team. “That’d be good.”
    â€œLeeman! Jesus Christ, you gonna stretch all day? Let’s go! We’ve got work to do!”
    â€œCinderella, Cinderella,” Trey sang under his breath. “Enjoy the attention.”
    Josh narrowed his gaze at Trey’s seemingly innocent face, then jogged over to Coaches Barnes and the offensive coordinator.
    ***
    Carri sat with her father on the sidelines and watched as Josh ran a play. It looked a bit silly, to her way of thinking. He wasn’t dressed for football, or what she’d expected of football. He wore his helmet and a Bobcats jersey, but no padding, and only athletic shorts and running shoes. He did some sort of hike-hike thing where he was bent over, showcasing his—admittedly fine—ass, then would step back, fake a few times to go around invisible defenders, and throw toward a target. He hit it more times than not, but he still missed enough that her father groaned beside her with each one.
    â€œDad, you sure you’re okay?” she asked when he made another painful sound in his throat and shuffled on his seat. “We can go. It’s so hot out, I’m worried—”
    â€œDon’t start. You sound like your mother when you badger me. I want to see Josh play, and so we’re here to watch.” He made another sound when Trey Owens stepped up, put a hand on Josh’s shoulder, and extended his arm as if throwing a ball himself. “What’s that Owens doing to our boy?”
    â€œHe’s not our boy, Dad.”
Much as you wanted a son . . . Sorry about that.
“And Trey Owens is the
actual
quarterback of the team. I think if he wants to show Josh something, Josh should probably listen.”
    â€œJosh does just fine on his own . . . except for missing those targets.”
    â€œHe’s close enough,” Carri argued.
    Herb just made another sound of displeasure and crossed his arms.
    They’d found a shaded spot on the bleachers, but she still vowed to leave within a half hour. Coming to the training camp for day one had been her father’s idea. Carri was sick of being cooped up with him in the house, and since he’d been having a pretty lucid day, she agreed to drive him the ninety minutes to the facility. She’d never been before—hadn’t had a desire to see