Hattie

I never thought I'd find myself here so soon. Oh, eventually, I knew I'd give into Uncle Dillon's texts and voicemails, but still. It's not where I want to be even though I know its where I should be. Uncle Dillon deserves more from me. I'm not sure I'd even be able to pay for school without him. He got the school to give me a full scholarship at the last minute. I'm guessing he managed it because he's a big deal here. They've won three national championship games because of him.

And he is my favorite uncle.

"Why are we here?" Sean demands as I lead him into the elevator and press the button for the third floor. I know where the coaching offices are simply because the unanswered text message from uncle informed me of where to find him when I was ready to talk.

I'm not, but this is more important than my feelings. Sean Riggins is a very good player. And he could be a great player if he puts in the work. Uncle Dillon will get him there, he just needs to not give up. Its rare I see a player with his raw talent. Not even my ex had this kind of talent. Austin was good because he worked hard at making sure he was good. Sean is good without even trying.

I find my uncle sitting on a couch chewing on the pen in his mouth, muttering about what looks like last week's game playing out on the big ass screen TV in his office.

Dillon Carter is in his late forties, with dark hair that's graying at the temples. He still has that football physique of his youth because he works out every day. Says it to keep up with youngsters. His blue eyes are the same shade of blue as mine. I got them from him. Both my parents and my sister have muddy brown eyes. I've never liked the color even though I wouldn't tell them that.

"Didn't you tell me once if I kept muttering under my breath, then what was the point? Say what you mean and mean what you say. Don't mutter."

Uncle Dillon sits up, the notepad spilling off his lap and into the floor. The biggest smile breaks up the sterness of his expression. He has the best smile. Even when he's not in a good mood, his smile can warm the darkest and coldest of hearts.

"It's about damn time you dragged your ass in to see me. Did you finally decide to take me up on the offer to help me watch some tape?"

Sean mutters something unintelligible behind me, but its loud enough to catch my uncle's attention. He hadn't noticed Sean behind me before. How I don't know. I'm tall for a girl, but Sean dwarfs me at six five.

Uncle Dillon's gaze swings back to me, a clear question in his expression.

"Nope." I point behind me. "I found this who wants to quit school and decided to haul his ass in here before he did something stupid."

"What the fuck, Riggins?" He gets to his feet and stalks over to us and I hastily get out of his way.

The fact that he knows Sean's name is a big thing. He never really notices players until they show him he needs to notice them, that they're good enough to be worth noticing. Freshmen almost never make the grade with him. He might not have noticed Sean until Dobb's went out on injury during the first scrimage game of the season, but he knows him now.

Sean sputters and shoots me a glare. I glare right back at him. I'm not about to let him screw up his future. Not sure why I care really, but I do.

"Speak up before I beat it out of you."

He won't lay a hand on Sean, but he'll put him through his paces at practice. Which might actually be worse than a beating.

"Uhh...I...uhhh..." Sean stutters a bit. He so wasn't expecting me to drag him into the head coach's office.

"Spit it out boy." Uncle Dillon has no time for pussy footing around as he calls skirting an issue.

When Sean says nothing, I do. Can't fix a problem if you don't confront it. I might not follow that rule, but its still a good rule.

"He thinks you're going to bench him."

"Why the hell would you think that?" Uncle Dillon frown. "You're a damn good player."

"I overheard Coach Brown and Coach Sterling talking about me getting benched when Dobbs comes back this week."

"And he's failing his classes," I add. Uncle Dillon needs to know it all so he can fix it.

"And you what, got your panties in a twist and decided to up and quit?" Uncle Dillon growls.

"Football's all I'm good at. If I flunk out, then I'm gone anyway."

"You really are as dumb as you look, ain't you boy?"

To his credit, Sean doesn't say a word. I can see how much he wants to, but he doesn't. He is smarter than he looks.

"Do you think all the great players didn't go through shit? That they didn't warm the bench their freshmen year in college just like everybody else? You better than them, boy?"

"No, sir."

"You sure acting like you think you are."

Sean's eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn't back tall. Point for him.

"What do you think, monkey?"

I wince. I hate that nickname, but I was a climber growing up. My mom always threatened to lock me in my room if I didn't stay out of trees.

"He's good."

"And?"

"And he could be great if he gets out of his own way. He has a raw talent a lot of people wish they had, but he's too busy boozin' it up and feeling sorry for himself to realize just how good he is." 

Uncle Dillon takes a sniff. "You do smell like a brewery."

"I only had three glasses of beer."

"Not true. You had a jack and coke too."

"You take my girl drinking?" He swings toward me, his ire rising. "You know you can't be drinking."

"Nope, I didn't touch a drink. I was only there to figure out why he wanted to quit school."

"I didn't drink the jack and coke if you remember. You ordered it for me. I just drank the beer."

"He might be right. I wasn't paying attention to what he actually drank."

"Drinking at this time of day during the week is still off limits."

"Everyone drinks, Coach."

His lips thin. "And that makes it okay?"

"Well, if everyone does it..."

"Would you be the idiot who jumped off the bridge because everyone else was doing it?"

"No."

"But you'll drink because they all did it?"

Sean stays quiet.

"I get that you're young. Nineteen. You probably drank like a fish in high school and played drunk too. That was high school. The college field is different. It's what prepares you to compete at the NFL level which is harsh and fierce. If you can't get your shit together now, then you'll never hack the NFL."

"No one thinks I can do it."

The heartbreak in his voice is buried, but I hear it and it pulls at me. "Then show them they're fucking wrong and do it."

"When did you start cussing like me?" Uncle Dillon demands.

I shrug. Probably around the same time I found out my sister slept with my fiance and then he hit me.

"We're going to talk about this later, monkey, but right now, I have this shit to deal with." He turns back to Sean. "We have tutors who can help you get your grades back on track. That's the easy part."

"School ain't easy for me. I'm not good at it."

"No one's good at school, but you work to get through it with a passable grade. You don't need straight A's to play. You have to do the bare minimum to pass. That's where tutors help. The way you play, if you put your mind to it, you can probably enter the draft early. Hattie's right. You're better than good and you can be great, but if you don't work for it, it'll never happen no matter how much talent you have."

"And if I don't get to play, I'll never get my stats up enough to enter the draft early."

"Then you suck it up and show me why you need to play. Don't sulk like a kid who got his favorite toy smashed. Fucking work for it or get the hell off my field."

"I don't want to quit football, I'm just out of my league here. I am as stupid as I look."

That sobered my uncle. "Son, you're not stupid. You just need help, which we'll do for you. It's up to you if you want to accept it."

"I've always been stupid," Sean muttered. "It wasn't until I put a football in my hand people paid attention. They looked the other way when people did work for me and let me turn in extra credit work to get the grades I needed to play. Work I didn't do. This is all I can do and if I lose it, then what does that make me? Someone worth shit."

Uncle Dillon took Sean by the arm and led him to the couch before forcing him to sit. "Riggins, you're not stupid. You can read a field in a way most players can't. If you were stupid, then you wouldn't be able to do that. It takes smarts, it takes math, it takes concentration and the ability to think five steps ahead. I'm sorry you were made to feel stupid. Sometimes when you have it drilled into your head you can't do something, then it takes a lot to break yourself out of that mentality. But that's what we're here for. The team is here for you, the coaching staff is here for you, and we have enough tutors that we'll get you caught up."

"I'll help him too."

Uncle Dillon glances at me and then nods. "This girl here is one of the smartest people I know. She fusses about math, but you won't find anyone better at it. I'll have Mon...Hattie," he corrects himself at my glare, "take charge of your tutors and basically make sure you're getting the help you need."

I nod in agreement when he looks to me for confirmation. There is something about Sean Riggins that pulls at me. He's big, bigger than Austin, but there's a hurt in him that needs to be healed. Maybe I recognize it because I'm bruised and battered on the inside as well. Either way, I'm not going to look to close at it and try my best to help the big lug.

"No more drinking, though." That's one thing we need to agree on. "Get drunk after the game on Saturdays if you have to, spend Sunday recouperating, and then be one hundred percent focused on school and football the rest of the week. Can you do that?"

"What if I do all that and I still fail?" he whispers.

"I can promise you if you do what we're asking, I'll get you to the NFL. It's not a promise I make lightly and one I've only given once before. He's sitting in the NFL right now. If you show me you deserve to play, then you'll play. Dobbs is our starting wide receiver, that's true, and he will play, but that doesn't mean you're going to be benched. I've seen what you can do. Don't be an ass and try to outshine him, he's still hurt. Just be yourself and work hard. That's all I'm asking you to do. I'm not going to let you fail."

"Me either," I agree.

"I'll try."

"You have to do better than try. You have to do it."

"I'll do it, Coach."

"Good. Now both of you get your asses on the couch and help me go over last Saturday's game. I need to figure out why Virginia Tech is getting through our defense so easily and you can't drive until you sober up."

I wave the keys at him. "I drove."

"Good girl. Now get some water out of the fridge for you and Riggins and then help me figure this out."

He plopped down on the couch and arched a brow at me. Fine. I'll get the water. Sean looks a little too shell shocked to do more than stutter anyway.

After getting said water, I sit down next to Uncle Dillon and let myself get lost in the game, trying to focus on where the team was going wrong. This is something I grew up doing with him and my dad.

Back to normal for a few hours anyway.