The Line Between

A tall redhead sidled up to his side, and drew his attention away from me. It was the slap in the face I needed.

It was just sex between us. Nothing more.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Dane

I WAS AGITATED. On edge. I’d left the cafeteria – after spending most of the time trying not to stare at Kennedy - after lunch and headed to the football field. We had a game in a few hours, and I wanted to run over our plays with Coach Ford before the guys started getting ready. I also wanted to distract myself from my preoccupation with Kennedy.

When I walked into Coach Ford’s office, the sight of my father sitting in one of the chairs stopped me cold. I hadn’t seen him since before our classes started, and I was more than happy to keep it that way. If only he’d stuck to the same plan.

“Coach,” I greeted first, giving him a nod. My father turned in his chair, and gave me his standard icy stare. At fifty-five years old, Derek Winter’s was as intimidating as he was astute. His hair was the same color as mine, with a few streaks of grey coming through, and his eyes were brown, and lifeless. We looked alike, but that’s where our similarities ended.

“Dad.”

“Dane,” he replied. “I was in in the area. Thought I’d stop by and chat to Coach Ford.”

You mean to check on me.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I told Coach Ford. “I can come back when you’re done.”

“That’s okay,” my father said. He stood up, buttoned up his black suit jacket, and reached over the desk to shake Coach’s hand. “Bentley, it was good to see you again. Looking forward to tonight’s game.”

“You too, Derek,” replied Coach. “As I said earlier, Dane here is doing a fine job with the team. I reckon he’d be able to take my job when I retire.”

My father’s smile was tight as he said, “He has other things planned for his future, but I’m glad he’s proving to be of use to you.”

His voice irritated me. The way he spoke about me like I was an object irritated me. Even the way his hair was combed back rubbed me the wrong way.

Coach hummed, and let go of my father’s hand before sitting back down behind his desk.

“Walk me to my car,” my father said, turning to me. “We’ll catch up quickly.”

“Dad, I need to talk to Coach about the game tonight.” It was a weak attempt at denying my father, and I knew he wouldn’t accept ‘no’ for an answer.

I sighed. “I’ll be right back, Coach.”

I followed my father out, and he waited until we were out of the locker room before he started on me. “Are you behaving?” He asked, his tone hard, and authoritative. As a kid that tone used to scare me, but now it provoked anger, and the need to knock him out.

My voice was clipped when I replied, “Why ask me that when you already know the answer. That’s the real reason you ‘stopped by’ isn’t it? To check up on me?”

“Watch your tone,” he warned. “I’m still your father.”

“And the only reason you’re here, Dad, is to make sure I’m not embarrassing you again,” I amended for him.

“I don’t need to remind you of how easily your behavior reflects on me, Dane. I’m going to be getting a lot of press in the next few months, and the last thing I need is for you to drag our family name through the mud like you did last year.”

He looked down, and started messing around on his phone, while I struggled not to tackle him to the ground. My jaw started to hurt from how hard I was grinding my teeth.

“You’re the public image,” I retorted through clenched teeth. “Surely it’s your behavior you should be more concerned with, not mine.”

My father, ever the family man, didn’t even bother looking up as he spoke. “Don’t be petulant. Our entire family will be under scrutiny until my court case with Anthony Monroe is over.”

Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have been bothered with who my father was fighting in court (again) but hearing Kennedy’s father’s name made my ears perk up.

“What’s going on with Mr. Monroe?” Apparently my father picked up on my interest because it was enough to make him look up from his phone.

“He’s trying to drill for oil on land that doesn’t belong to him, and I’m trying to stop it.” His cool eyes watched me. “Why do you care?”

I shrugged. “I don’t. You’ve been feuding with that family for years, I figured it would have gotten old by now.”

“It will never be done,” he said harshly. “And you know that as of your senior high school it has less to do with the history between our family and theirs.”

Like I needed reminding.

“I have to go.” My father turned his back and slid into the backseat of his black town car without so much as a ‘goodbye’ or backward glance. Seeing him, talking to him, disgruntled me even more. Discussing Kennedy’s father certainly hadn’t helped, but it made me think about her and what we’d been doing for the past week. My father had a point though. His ‘crusade’ against the Monroe’s became personal the night my sister died, and up until a few weeks ago, he hadn’t been alone in that.

But now, I couldn’t tell what side of the line I was standing on, and despite not feeling any sense of loyalty to my father, I felt like what I was doing with Kennedy was some kind of betrayal. To who, I wasn’t sure. My father would never approve of me having anything to do with Kennedy. He always painted her with the same brush as her father, saying she was just like him, and I shouldn’t associate with ‘those kinds of people’. If only he knew she was nothing like her father. Not that it was his opinion I was worried about. I couldn’t care less what he thought, but I wondered what my sister would have said about it, if she would have felt betrayed, or if she’d have been happy to see me with Kennedy.

Too bad I couldn’t ask her.

“WHAT THE HELL happened tonight?”

The locker room fell quiet as Coach Ford looked around. The guys hung their heads, and I couldn’t help but do the same. We’d played the worst game all season, and it effectively cost us our ‘undefeated’ title.

“You were like a bunch of clowns in a circus,” he bellowed. “I didn’t even recognize the damn team that was on that field tonight. You didn’t even play like a team. You all played for yourselves, and look where it got you. This was Ole Mis for shit’s sake. Their plays are so predictable, and you squandered every opportunity to take them down.”

He huffed, and puffed, and yet no one said anything. What could we say? It wasn’t our night. Even I had a bad game from the side of the field.

“It better not happened again, boys. Dane,” Coach looked at me, “I have no idea where your head was at tonight but you better sort it out before the next game.” He turned to the rest of the team with a heavy sigh, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hit the showers, and get out before I make you run suicides until you know what it means to be a damn team.”

Coach walked away, and the guys all started shuffling around towards the showers. I knew how they felt because I was right there with them. I had no idea what happened tonight, but we sucked. Even Chase, our prized destined-for-the-NFL quarterback was playing like a complete rookie.