Laurie smiles at my little joke and hugs me again, and I hold her close, closing my eyes to let myself just feel her close and safe. When she lets go, I get to my feet and pull Whitney in for a hug. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Whitney says, kissing my cheek. "But I think I'll take Laurie back to Mom's place. You've got a statement to make, and I have work this afternoon."
I nod and stroke my hand through her beautiful auburn hair. "Okay. I need to call the Hawks too—team policy. Maybe afterward, we can have dinner as a family?"
"I'd like that. Give me a call later.”
"I will. I love you."
"I love you too."
It didn't take as long as I thought it would to wrap things up at the station. Being a celebrity, apparently, I was interviewed by the Chief of Police, who showed me the video after I gave my verbal statement, and one of the other cops was quickly transcribing it for us. "So why didn't you just kick his ass?"
"Come on, Chief, I'm a professional athlete. If I threw a punch at him, I'd be here for possibly killing him. Second, the League frowns on players getting into fights, regardless of whether we're provoked. And most important, my daughter and Whitney were in the house. I’ll be a better father than Randall was to me."
The Chief nods and reaches over, switching off the tape. "Okay. Well, hang out here for a moment while Bert finishes up the transcribed statement. I've already had the Hawks contact me—I'll give them a call back and tell them that you're totally blameless for this. You were at home, and we've got you on video trying to de-escalate, and you acted with more restraint than I think I would have."
"Oh, I'll still need to talk with Coach tomorrow, but thanks. It'll smooth things over a lot."
I sign the transcribed statement and leave the station, which is co-located with City Hall. Silver Lake Falls is still one of those towns that is small enough that such things are common. I'm surprised when I see Coach Jackson standing outside, apparently waiting for me when I walk out. "Don't you have practice this afternoon, Coach?"
"I can get back for that," he replies, his hands in his pockets. He's dressed as a history teacher right now, and I can't help but smile at the little stain of yellow chalk dust on his sleeve. Coach is one of the only teachers who still has a real chalkboard in his room and still likes to use it. "I've got Mrs. Gibbs covering my last period class. They've just got a video today anyway."
"Thanks for coming down then," I say, and the two of us start to walk through the park that is located next to the City Hall complex, the grass and old oak trees providing a peaceful respite from the stress of the morning. "How'd you find out?"
"I'm technically your agent, remember?" Coach says with a chuckle. "I'm in third period with a bunch of freshmen who I'm trying to explain the real reasons Columbus takes off to the west instead of going around Africa like everyone else does back in 1492, and my phone rings. My wife knows that I don't take personal calls at work, so it has to be an emergency, and next thing I know, I'm talking to the General Manager of the Hawks, who tells me that you're here, Randy's been arrested, and could I please stop by the station to find out what's going on. What else could I do?"
"Finish out freshman World History?" I reply, and Coach laughs. "I know you pretty well by now."
"Okay, I did do that once. But here I am."
"Again, thanks," I say. We sit down on a bench, and I take a deep breath. "Not the start I wanted."
"To the day or to the season?" Coach asks, and I laugh softly. "I know you, Troy. The kid I had on the Foxes, he'd have been over the moon about his stats. The man you are, you'd rather have the team be 2-0 instead of 0-2."
"Some of that, but mostly with Dad," I say, leaning forward and putting my elbows on my knees. "I was scared, Coach. He frightened Laurie, he's an arm's length from Whitney, who's mostly naked coming from the shower, and all I had was me, and to be honest, I feel like shit today."
"You did the right thing. Your daughter is safe, Whitney is safe, and you acted like a man."
"Thanks to you," I whisper, turning my head to look at him. "You know that?"
"I'm just a history teacher who happens to like coaching football on the side," he says, but I can tell he's moved. He nods, and we sit quietly, watching the birds flitter overhead. When we talk again, his voice is raspy, and he talks about the things he feels safest with. "So . . . you think you're going to do well against the Dons?"
"We have to," I reply with a smile. "They're in our division, and if we go 0-3 and 0-2 in divisional play, life is going to get very ugly on the team for a while."
Chapter 23
Whitney
"This is so cool!"