My abs were on fire like I had been doing crunches instead of just laughing, but I couldn’t stop, and I reveled in the sound of her laughter the longer we were in those woods.
Sydney went from screaming in terror to cackling in uncontrollable laughter and back in the span of sixty seconds. I focused on keeping us steady and safe, flooring it over the ramps and spinning my tires to fling up mud, all the while ensuring we never got deep enough to get stuck. When I finally pulled us onto one of the dirt trails for a break and the Bronco evened out, Sydney slumped in her seat, breathing like she’d just run for her life.
“Oh, My-Lanta,” she said on a long breath when I pulled over, putting it in park in one of my favorite meadows. “Is it possible to be sore from mudding?”
“Hey, you said you had a lot of energy to expend. Tell me that didn’t do the trick?”
“It did,” she agreed, shaking her head. “But, it also maybe gave me a heart attack or two.”
I chuckled, turning the keys in the ignition until the engine ceased, and then all the noise was gone and we were blanketed in a silence only nature could provide. Slowly, as my ears adjusted, the faint sound of the few katydids still hanging around in the cooler nights made their way through the silence. In the summer, the music they made together was deafening, a sign of warm weather. But in the fall, hearing them was rare — especially once it actually got cold.
I grabbed my jacket from the backseat, shrugging it on and climbing out of the driver seat as Sydney watched me curiously. There were other creatures talking to each other all around us — maybe birds, maybe coyotes, maybe insects. I couldn’t be sure of all of them, but I knew they made up my favorite symphony.
When Sydney joined me outside the truck, I walked over to her side, offering my hand and nodding to the front tire.
She cocked a brow. “What?”
“Hop up,” I answered easily.
She looked at the wheel, at the muddy hood, and back at me with her brows drawn together. “On the hood?”
I smiled, grabbing her hand in mine and giving her a boost as she lifted herself up. “Trust me, you won’t hurt it.”
She still seemed a little hesitant, even when she was sitting on the hood, but when I climbed up on the other side and sat next to her, leaning back against the windshield with my eyes on the clearing ahead of us, she relaxed, reclining until her back hit the glass, too.
It was chilly — not so cold that it was uncomfortable, but enough so that I was glad I had my jacket. Sydney wore a Stratford High Football hoodie, and she pulled the hood of it up, tucking her hands in the pockets and crossing her legs where they splayed out in front of her.
“This is beautiful,” she said, eyes wandering over the meadow. It was a phenomenon I didn’t really understand, how in the middle of mud and trees and a forest there could be a break in all of it where the grass and plants and flowers bloomed freely.
“You should see it in the springtime,” I said, letting my eyes travel up to where the stars peppered the sky. On a dark night, you couldn’t count them all to save your life. But tonight, the moon was full and bright, its glow stealing the show in the sky. “There are all these wildflowers, and if you sit here long enough and are quiet, you’ll see deer and rabbits and warblers and all kinds of creatures. I even saw two foxes once.” I smiled at the memory. “You ever see a gray fox before? Bastards are too cute for their own good.”
Sydney laughed. “I take it you come here often, then?”
“It’s my spot,” I said comfortably, proudly. “I love mudding in the truck, and I love to get a good run in to burn off any frustration or stress, but this? Sitting here and being still for a while?” I shook my head. “There’s nothing more peaceful.”
We sat there on the hood of my truck, the damp coolness of the forest on our skin and our eyes cast upward. For a long time, neither of us said anything, and somehow, it was the best conversation we’d had in weeks.
“I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you this,” she said after a while. “But, you’re a really great coach, Jordan. Those boys… hell, this whole town. We’re lucky to have you.”
I shrugged, humbled, but my chest filled with a sense of pride hearing those words from her. “Thank you,” I said. “I just love football, and I care about my team. And I think when those two things are true, anyone can be a good coach.”