Flannel, baby.<snuggles in deeper> The weather has turned and the nights are cool, so it's flannel all the
way. It's like being surrounded by your favorite lumberjack. ;)
This is where I do splurge...satin pjs from Victoria's Secret. Nothing feels better than that water-smooth,
cool fabric, like a whisper against your skin. So nice.
My new obsession: Candy Corn M&Ms. They'll be gone after Halloween, so I am gorging myself on them until then.
How brave are you? *winks* No, you are safe if you stay with the top drawer: just my sketchpad, a
notebook full of odd little snippets of story ideas, a flashlight and some fingernail polish. Pretty boring, huh?
I HAVE to have the sheets and blankets all perfectly smooth, pulled up to my neck, but with my feet
sticking out. Doesn't matter if it's 10 or 100 degrees outside, my feet just canNOT be covered. I feel like
I'm smothering if they do. Do you think I need therapy? LOL
you. So ixnay on the therapy. Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?
Hon, you can put them anywhere. ;)
I am FINALLY reading the Dreamspinner Press' Daily Dose anthology.
There are so many great writers featured in it, it's an amazing
collection. My little short, "Fragile", was included, thanks to the sweet
and gentle prodding of Mr. Brazil. ;) <kisses> Thanks!!
Buy link for anthology:http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?cPath=63_445&products_id=2357
“Doc, you look as tired as I feel.” His voice was deep and scratchy, as if he had been talking too much, though it was probably due more to the emotional overload. He nodded his head toward the stack of papers lying on the desk in front of Andy. “You about finished there?”
Andy’s head bobbled like one of those dolls as he continued to stare up at the man standing in front of him. He must have looked like an idiot, but he was too tired to care. These were the last few moments he’d be in the coach’s presence, and he was going make the most of them.
Andy cleared his throat when he noticed the half-smile the coach had on his face, bringing him back to reality.
“I just need you to sign off on them, here.” He began shuffling the papers nervously, searching to put the ones on top that needed the coach’s signature.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when the coach’s big hand clasped his shoulder. “Bring them inside; we’ll take care of them.”
The warmth of the Coach Sheridan’s palm remained even after he turned to head into his office, leaving Andy to snatch up the papers and follow him.
“It’s been a helluva day,” Coach Sheridan offered, closing the office door as Andy followed behind him. The coach hung his suit jacket on the back of his desk chair before collapsing into it with a heavy sigh. He shoved his fist through his salt and pepper locks, pulling on them in complete frustration. “A helluva day.” He laid his head back against the leather of his seat, his eyes closed, every line of his body echoing the tiredness that was etched onto his face. “That was a career-ending injury.” His voice was barely audible, stretched thin with pain. “Just a kid and his dream could be over.”
This was one of the aspects of the coach that made him so attractive to Andy. Beyond the rugged good looks and the swagger of a man who was keenly aware of his appeal to those around him, he had compassion. To the outside, these players were nothing more than athletes chosen to increase the odds of the team making it to a post-season bowl game, but to those who were lucky enough to see inside the locker rooms and to be present at practices, these were the coach’s kids.
In his late forties, and having never been married, he took these players under his wing. He was always there for them to lend an ear, offer support, to give advice. Those kids looked up to him, and the mutual respect they had was the reason the football team played so consistently well.
Andy didn’t know what to say… what to do. He sat down in the opposite chair, forgetting the papers for now. “Is that what they said?” he asked quietly, wishing now he had gone to the hospital too. A lot of truth was in what the doctors didn’t say.
The coach sat up with a groan, rubbing his hands roughly against his face, as if trying to fight the exhaustion he had to be feeling after such a long day. “You know how doctors are.” His smirk made Andy’s stomach flip. “Cautiously optimistic, they say. But you saw it, hell, we heard it, out there on the field. If the surgery is successful, you know how fragile that knee will be from here on out. This was his last year, this was his last game….” He left the thought hanging as he reached across the desk for the papers awaiting his signature.
“Lot of lasts happening tonight,” he offered quietly as he absently signed off on Andy’s reports without even reading over them. “ Not a great send-off, is it?” He smiled, signing the last one and putting his pen down before deftly pulling his tie from around his neck. “You are now no longer an employee of the university.”
“Well, not the Athletic Department, that’s true.” Andy offered a tired smile. “It’s been great working with… the team. And, you, of course, working with you.” He stumbled over the words, nervously working them in. He mentally shook himself, but it was hitting him—this would be the last time he’d be in the presence of Coach Sheridan.
The last time….
“Yes, great.” The coach gave up a killer smile, slapping his hands on his thighs before he stood up. “And what kind of bon voyage has this been? We need a drink.” The coach