“Hey, Coach,” she says, smiling up at me. “What’s up?” “Can you do me a favor?” “Is it the jerseys? I have them out with dry cleaning already.” “No.” I shake my head and rub the back of my neck. “It’s a personal favor.” “Oh.” Her eyes widen and she sits up straight. “What’s up?” “Can you have some food delivered to Lacey’s office in D.C.? She hasn’t eaten yet, and I know she’s not going to get something on her own.” Darcy’s face softens, and she pulls out her phone. Her thumbs fly across the screen, and I see an app open with a dozen culinary options. “Of course. What does she like?” “Sushi, I
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