Fannie snorted some rosé and shook her head. “No argument from me,” she said, turning from the fluted glass. “I’d take out his ass pronto.”

“No kidding,” he said. “But here’s the thing. I need ideas on how we get it done.”

“From little ole me?” Fannie said, rolling the glass stem between her fingertips. “I’m just the hospitality queen. Or isn’t that what that tub of whale shit Buster White called me?”

*   *   *

“You look good, Boom,” Jean Colson said.

Boom took a seat up in the bleachers between Caddy and her mother, taking a damn long time to get off the field and make his way to where they sat. It was hard as hell watching him walk so slowly, but she knew he’d hate being helped. Boom told her he didn’t want anyone’s pity or anyone treating him like a goddamn invalid. He said he’d been hurt but it wouldn’t slow him down a bit.

“Appreciate it, Miss Jean,” Boom said. “But I feel better than I look. My therapist said it might take me six more months to get back to normal. Figure by Christmastime, I’ll be ready to hit the road again. After all the news got out, I got plenty of offers to start driving again.”

“Don’t rush it,” Jean said. “Don’t you rush a thing. Heal up. Get yourself better.”

“Jason’s looking good out there, Caddy,” Boom said, leaning his back into the bleacher behind him. “Boy sure is fast. Lots faster than your brother. Y’all know Quinn’s slow as hell.”

“I told you,” Jean said.

“You see how fast he set up in the pocket?” Boom said. “Damn. If he can get a decent receiver, these boys going all the way to state.”

Caddy looked over at Boom, the sun setting across his scarred face. The scars came from years before, back in Iraq, barely hidden under his patchy black beard. She wanted to reach out and touch his face, try to make him feel better, let him know there were better things than the meanness and violence that kept on stepping into his life. More than anything, she knew Boom just wanted to be left alone. Him and his truck and a long stretch of road in front of him.

“Wasn’t too long ago when I was watching you and Quinn play,” Jean said, leaning forward and setting her face on her hands, watching her grandsons split up into drills.

“Hate to say it, Miss Jean,” Boom said. “But that was back in the Jurassic days. You wouldn’t know from looking at this football field. Nothing looks like it’s changed.”