Stealing for Keeps (Frost Lake High Book 1)
Stealing for Keeps: Chapter 40

My stomach is in knots the second my feet hit the floor. It’s game day. We play at home, so I hurry to get ready and head downstairs. I come up short when I spot Dad at the kitchen table.

“Morning,” he says as he brings a cup of coffee to his lips. He’s in sweats and a T-shirt like he slept here last night, but he was not here when I went to bed.

“Morning.” My steps slow as I head to the pantry for cereal. “When did you get in?”

“Late last night, early this morning.” His voice is deep like he just woke up.

I’m shocked to see him and hesitant to be excited. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I wasn’t sure I could get here in time, and I didn’t want to disappoint you again if I couldn’t.”

There’s a tiredness in his voice that makes me realize that maybe this has been as hard for him as it has been for me. I hadn’t considered that before. All I can manage to say is, “Oh.”

“What’s the plan for this morning?” he asks. “Are you heading to the field early to get out the game-day nerves.”

I smile as I grab a bowl out of the cabinet. I set both that and the cereal on the table and get the milk out before taking a seat across from him.

“No. Coach doesn’t like for us to show up too early. I usually kick the ball around out back until it’s time to head to the field.”

“It’s going to be cold out there.” He laughs softly. “Not like playing in the cold in Arizona either. I saw that the high today is thirty-eight degrees.”

“No kidding. I’ll be freezing out there for sure, and the ground is hard when it’s this cold. The ball feels different. I’m wearing so many layers, it’s not even funny.” I chuckle softly as I think about playing in shorts and a T-shirt this time of year in Arizona. “It’s taken some getting used to for sure.”

“I can throw on my tennis shoes and a jacket after breakfast and kick it around with you if you want.”

My stomach drops. That sounds perfect. I’ve missed doing that with him. “A couple of the guys are coming over in twenty. Our backyard has become the unofficial game-day practice spot.”

“Ah.” He nods. “That’s why your mother went to the store to stock up on groceries before dawn.”

It hits me then. My mom has gone to great lengths to make my friends feel welcome at our house. The same way she used to do that for Claire. I’ve taken that for granted. I’ve taken a lot of things for granted.

“You know what?” I say. “Come out anyway. The guys won’t mind.”

One corner of his mouth lifts. “Sounds good, as long as you take it easy on your old man.” He pats his stomach. “All this travel and eating in airports and hotels is catching up with me.”

“No promises,” I tell him.

An hour later, a handful of the guys have made it over, and we’re outside in the backyard. Vaughn and I are passing the ball back and forth, and Rowan is playing one-on-one with Dad. Dad looks like he is feeling the burn, but he’s smiling too. Everyone else is standing around doing more stretching and talking than playing. We all have our own routines to work out the pregame nerves. Barrett’s version of that is running his mouth. Hey, whatever works. Come game time, he’s quiet and focused.

When it’s time to head to the school, Dad pats me on the shoulder and wheezes. “Good luck today.”

“Are you going to make it over to watch the game?” I ask, fighting a laugh.

“Oh, yeah. Quick shower and I’ll be good as new.” He winces as he takes another step. I did warn him we weren’t going to take it easy on him.

“I’m glad you’re here. We’ve missed you.” I bob my head to the side. “I’ve missed you. Game days don’t feel the same without you.”

“Yeah, me too. I’m sorry things have been hard since the move. I’m proud of you.”

My throat works around a lump as I swallow. “Thank you.”

“Your friends seem great,” he says.

“They are.” I scan the yard filled with my teammates. “Most of the time.”

With one final squeeze of my shoulder and a smile, he hobbles off. I can’t explain the peace it gives me, knowing he’ll be there today, but it ignites a new hunger in me.

Rowan walks up behind me as Dad disappears into the house. “Your dad is cool.”

“He is,” I agree, then turn to him. “Are your parents coming today?”

He hesitates, then shrugs. “I’m not sure. I think it depends on their work schedules.”

I nod my understanding. Families are complicated, and he never seems that upset that they don’t come to his games. Maybe I’ve just been projecting my own disappointment onto him.

“Are you ready to do this thing today?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say, a steely resolve spreading through my body. I am definitely ready.

In the locker room, I get dressed in my uniform while the guys do the same around me. A low chatter fills the room. I can’t wait to get out there. Sitting out the last game was torture, but I’m ready to bring it today.

Blake steps up next to me and opens his locker. He glances over and gives me a chin lift. I respond the same way, but as I glance away, something catches my eye. A black notebook and not just any notebook: my sketchbook. The torn cover and splotches of paint make me certain it’s mine.

“Where’d you get that?” I ask him, pointing to it. Confusion and unease prick my skin.

“Oh shit,” he says, reaching for it. “I completely forgot. Claire asked me to give this to you yesterday, but when I got into the locker room, you were already out on the field. Sorry.”

I hold it in my hands for a moment, a weird sensation spreading through me as I flip to the last page. She added to the drawing I did yesterday. She put a thought bubble over her head and in it wrote, “Go, Austin!” Then she scribbled out a little note next to it:

Good luck tomorrow. I’ll be cheering for you. I’m always cheering for you.

x, Claire

“Everything cool?” Blake asks, giving me a weird look. Then I realize I probably have a strange look on my face too.

She wrote back. Not just that, but she wanted to make sure I knew she would be cheering me on.

Suddenly, all I want to do is go see her. This thing between us can’t be over. It just can’t. I know that she’s figuring things out, and I am too. We can figure it all out together. Life is so much easier when people show up for you. We can be that for each other.

“Everything is great.” I close the sketchbook and put it in my locker. We have about thirty minutes until the game. Maybe she’s already here. I turn to go replace her, but Coach Collins steps into the room, halting me.

“Keller,” he says.

“Hey, Coach.”

“Are you ready for today?” His hands go to his hips as he assesses me.

“Yes, sir. I could barely sleep last night.”

“I remember that feeling.” One side of his mouth quirks up a fraction. “You’re the most talented young player I’ve seen in a long time, and you’re hungry for it. That’s good. Use that grit today, huh? We’re going to need it.”

I nod, a little dumbstruck. Jude Collins, my hero, just said I was the most talented young player he’s seen. I leave off the “in a long time” as I repeat it in my head. I’m the most talented young player he’s seen. Period.

Coach pushes past me. Everyone quiets down, and he moves into the center before he starts talking. “Ralley is here.”

The mood in the locker room shifts immediately.

“They think they’ve already won,” he says. “They’re betting that we’re going to walk out there scared, thinking about our last meeting and so in our heads that we can’t pull it together. But we aren’t going to do that.”

There’s a low murmur of agreement.

“You are the better team. I believe that with every fiber of my being. But it’s going to take each of you playing your best to beat them today. They’re not going to make it easy. They are hungry for it. They want to be the team that cost Frost Lake a conference title for the first time in four years. We have to be hungrier. Play our game. Work together. We don’t win or lose alone. We are a team. Don’t let them rush you or force easy mistakes.” He stops talking and lets his gaze scan the room. “All right. Let’s walk out there with our heads held high. Show no fear.”

He tips his head to Vaughn.

“All right, boys,” Vaughn says, placing his hand up in the air.

I feel the collective shift in the mood. We all step closer, joining the circle with our hands raised next to his.

Vaughn’s voice has that ring of authority laced with inspiration. He’s a good captain. “Knights on three. One, two…”

“Knights,” we all say in unison, dropping our hands.