My Foolish Heart by Susan May Warren

breath. Sometimes it did feel overwhelming.
    Not unlike learning to walk again.
    â€œThey’ll be in pain, for sure. But I want to teach them to fight through it, control their bodies instead of their bodies controlling them. I want them to learn what it means to get back up and even see a part of themselves that they never knew existed. Be men, not boys, or at least on their way.”
    Ellie wore a strange look. She smiled and glanced at Dan.
    â€œYes,” Dan said, “you need to meet Coach Presley. You just might be the guy to fill his shoes.”
    The words lingered as Caleb drove home, as he greeted Roger, who had clearly decided that he belonged on Caleb’s front porch, and let him into the house. Meet Coach Presley. Yes, he’d do that, maybe tomorrow after practice.
    He couldn’t deny the swirl in his gut at the thought of practice.
    Caleb stared in his bathroom mirror, trying out his coaching face. “The man with the most heart wins!” He said it loud, full, and his voice thundered through the house.
    From the sofa, Roger raised his head.
    Okay, so he didn’t exactly want the neighbors rushing in to check out the crazy new guy on the block, screaming at himself in the mirror.
    They had to learn to play with their hearts, with every fiber of their bodies. Sure, it sounded cliché, but Vince Lombardi said it first, and when was he ever wrong? Unless a man believed in himself and made a total commitment to his career and put everything he had into it—his mind, his body, his heart—what was life worth to him?
    Caleb ran water down his face, then shut off the light.
    Maybe he should focus more on God’s quotes. “This same God who takes care of me will supply all your needs from his glorious riches.” He had; oh, He had. Caleb hated to ask for more.
    He knew in his gut that God had saved him that dark night, healed him, and sent him to Deep Haven for a reason.
    Caleb wasn’t going to let Him down.
    He sat on the sofa and positioned his legs so they lay the length of it. Roger lifted his head from his paws, got up, set it on Caleb’s knees. He toggled the dog behind the ears. “So now we’re friends?”
    Pulling his laptop from the floor, he connected to the Internet, found The Bean ’s channel.
    â€œWelcome to My Foolish Heart , where we believe your perfect love might be right next door.”
    He’d caught the week’s recap of the show before it. He clicked on the link. My Foolish Heart , a talk show for hopeless romantics. He listened to the sultry-voiced hostess who called herself, appropriately, Miss Foolish Heart. Oh, brother. But The Bean would be on any minute.
    He rolled his eyes at the responses to what it felt like to fall in love.
    â€œIt’s knowing you have someone to hold on to.”
    â€œGreat response, TruLuv. Here’s hoping you have someone to hold on to. Go ahead, WindyCity.”
    â€œIt’s knowing you’re loved . . . anyway.”
    Loved, anyway. If that were even possible. Ashley hadn’t loved him, not really. And after the dust cleared, he hadn’t loved her, either. They’d simply clung to each other through college because they both liked the glory. Sure, she said she’d stay with him after his injury, but he saw the pity in her eyes.
    He couldn’t be loved because of pity.
    No, he didn’t know what it felt like to fall in love. But he did know what he wanted.
    Someone who wouldn’t give up on him. Someone who didn’t love him despite his handicap but didn’t see it at all. Someone who believed in him.
    He let the show play as he went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk. The hostess had moved on to a new caller, someone announcing her engagement.
    He stood in the doorway, listening, as the hostess gave a sort of high-pitched, tremulous laugh when the caller asked her to the wedding. Something about the hue of fear in the voice