Chapter 5 #2
You’re thirty-two, Dex. You don’t have to ask permission to go to Amici’s.
Me
Ha. I meant are they getting pizza?
Landry
Mom says she and Dad are going home to bed.
Me
Count me in then. Okay if Bridge comes?
Landry
Again. You don’t have to ask permission.
Me
See you there, dope.
Bridger eyes my phone. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Landry and Brock are grabbing pizza at Amici’s after the game. Wanna join? A man’s gotta eat.”
“Thanks, but I already have a date with a stack of chemistry tests I need to grade.”
“On a Friday night?” I shake my head. “Man. You really need to get out there. You moved here, what—a year and a half ago? I think it’s time.”
“Thanks, Mr. Pot.” He smirks. “But I think this kettle’s gonna hang at home and get some work done tonight.”
“Heh.” I won’t pursue the argument, but there’s a big difference between Bridge and me. Namely, I’m not trying to get over an unrequited love. “Since I probably won’t see you, keep me posted on how staff development goes. I’ll need updates while I’m gone.”
“I already know the update.” He claps me on the back. “Next week’s gonna suck without you.”
I wander over to confer with the head coach after the game, telling him they did great, and basically praying the guy won’t quit on us. I’m just heading out to the parking lot when Kendal side-texts me off the sibling thread.
Kendal
Hey. Before you meet up at Amici’s, can you pick up some diapers for me?
Me
Since when do you wear diapers?
Kendal
Ha ha. For Rowan and Wally. I texted Mom, but she didn’t respond.
Me
Landry said they were headed home to bed. So they’re either asleep or …
Kendal
Ewww. Can you just grab one pack for the baby and another for Rowan? Oh, and then drop them off here? Pretty please? With baby poop on top?
Me
I’m about to eat pizza.
Kendal
Is that a yes?
Me
Sure. NP.
The truth is, a couple packages of Huggies wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve bought for my sisters. Back in high school, I had a part-time job at the general store downtown, and I got stuck getting tampons and Midol for them on pretty much a monthly basis.
Kendal
U R MY HERO. Thank you thank you thank you.
When she texts me a picture of two diaper packages for the brand and sizes, I congratulate myself once again for the decision to not have children of my own. My plan is to be the best uncle anyone’s ever had. Plus my students are like my kids, with the bonus of not having to raise them.
Besides that, I get all the love and connection I need from the people already in my life. No need to add unnecessary complications.
Unnecessary heartache.
Still, I’ve got pizza waiting for me at Amici’s that’s not gonna eat itself. So I’m in a hurry when I dart into the nearest store and make a beeline for the diaper aisle. Coming around the corner, I crash into a shopping cart, which then slams into the person crouched on the other side.
“Ouch!” a woman yelps. Then Sayla Kroft pops up, holding three different boxes of tampons.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. A peek in her cart reveals a box of Cap’n Crunch, one bag of salt & vinegar chips, and a bulk package of Hershey bars. When her cheeks go red, I stick a smile on my face.
A peace offering, if you will.
“I get it,” I say. “I’ve got sisters.”
Without a word, she fumbles to replace two of the extra boxes on the shelf, but drops all three of them in the process.
So I quickly round the cart, and when I squat down to help her, our hands brush.
The contact lasts only an instant, but electricity crackles through my body. Just like in the weight room.
“Thanks,” she says, averting her eyes. Her throat goes blotchy. Like thanking me is rough for her. We both rise to our feet again, and I try to meet her gaze, offer her a smile, but she keeps her focus on the floor.
“So … I know you’re not exactly thrilled about going on this retreat with me, but …” My voice trails off.
“But what?”
“Maybe we could try to make the experience … not awful.”
“You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“Do what?”
She lifts her chin. Frowns. “Be nice.”
“Can’t help it,” I say. “I am nice.”
“Yeah, that’s what everyone seems to think.” She huffs out a breath. “But I see how you operate. You act all sweet and helpful and charming, but—” She cuts herself off.
My smile widens to a grin. “You think I’m charming?”
“Fake charming,” she quips. “There’s always an ulterior motive, though, isn’t there? Something you want to get out of it?”
“Or maybe I’m just a genuinely helpful guy.”
“Well, I’ve managed to get along for twenty-eight years without your help. Without anyone’s help.”
Her jaw shifts, and the moment feels almost vulnerable.
A rope of curiosity lassos my insides, but the last thing I need is to get more invested in Sayla Kroft.
If she’s got some serious stuff in her history, there’s no way she’d want to share something like that with me.
I don’t even delve into my own past with friends and family, the ones who were there in the trenches with me.
So there’s no way Sayla’s gonna get honest in the feminine hygiene aisle with someone she hates.
And I’m the someone she hates.
“Anyway, I’ll see you Monday,” she mumbles, maneuvering her cart around me.
“Seven o’clock,” I say.
As she shuffles down the aisle on her way to the register, I realize for the first time she’s wearing fuzzy slippers and pajama bottoms. She must’ve really needed those monthly supplies in a hurry.
Kind of like Kendal needed diapers. A pang of sympathy tugs at my heart, and my protective instincts kick in, transferring from Kendal over to Sayla.
Not that my feelings for Sayla are sisterly. Or sibling-related at all.
Still, the worst thing that could happen is for me to get weak when it comes to Sayla Kroft.
Her vulnerabilities—or any kind of softness—can’t factor into my emotions.
Not when the athletic department is counting on me.
I need to land this grant money more than I need to be anyone’s hero.
So I can’t focus on rescuing my program and Sayla at the same time.
Only one of us can win.
And it’s gotta be me.