Chapter 16
Jay and I turn into the Recreation Center parking lot with seconds to spare before practice begins.
It’s a Saturday morning, and after a night of restless sleep, I finally gave up trying.
Instead, I made a pot of coffee and dove back into my search for an art grant until the pink skies of morning peaked across the horizon.
Turns out, mid-year, they are few and far between, and I’m working hard not to sink into despair.
Jay’s been playing ball outside, in shorts and a short-sleeved shirt no less.
The temperature has been dropping day by day, but Jay seems unbothered by the chilly air.
When I finally looked up from my laptop, I realized we only had five minutes to get to ball practice, so I ran to my bathroom, winced at my reflection, then dressed quickly and loaded us into my car.
I hustle him in, following through the doors that lead to the basketball court.
But I stop dead in my tracks when I see who the coaches are.
The other day the center’s secretary sent out an email informing the parents of the team that everything was handled and coaches were secured.
I was so relieved I didn’t even question it.
When Penny texted saying she knew the guys for the job, I don’t know how I didn’t realize who she meant.
That day was a shitstorm at work. A fight broke out at lunch, which made every student a bit extra.
It was such a wild day I barely had time to pee.
So when her text came through I scanned it quickly, not paying much attention, much less deciphering her meaning.
Seems like, between the email from the secretary and Penny’s text, I should have connected the dots, though.
I’d at least have made myself more presentable if I had.
Winded from my jog across the parking lot, I adjust my Singing River Marching Band sweatshirt and attempt to tame my hair.
My natural curls are wild today after letting my hair air dry—something I rarely do.
Most days I take time to blow dry my hair straight.
Another thing I skipped is makeup. I guess today I’m showing up exactly as I am… just me.
Tyler looks up, his eyes finding mine across the gym. I tilt my head, confused, and he gives a one armed shrug, a smile stretching across that panty-melting face of his. Austin waves big, and I return it with a wave of my own.
“Tyler!” Jay shouts, running across the court to where Austin and Tyler stand, a group of boys huddled around them. Austin and Tyler exchange high fives with Jay and they resume talking to the group.
Making my way to the bleachers, I take a seat on an empty row, surveying the crowd around me.
Clearly I have been lost in my own world, because word must have gotten out who the coaches would be.
The bleachers are filled with dozens of moms, some I’m certain don’t even have a kid on a team, or a kid at all.
I guess they heard that Austin would be coaching.
Jealousy, a glowing green spark, flares to life in the pit of my stomach.
Are they here to watch Tyler? Even in athletic shorts and a T-shirt that says Singing River Celtics, he’s a tall drink of water.
Maybe even more so, seeing him all casual with those glasses perched on his angular face.
I do my very best to snuff out the jealousy. Tyler isn’t mine.
Last week, though, I’m almost positive I felt his stare, hot as a brand on my ass, when I sashayed from the kitchen to paint. I was feeling confident when I threw in a little sway for his enjoyment.
He glances up, catching me staring, and I quickly avert my gaze.
When I’m brave enough to look back up, his eyes are still on me.
This time I hold his eye contact, biting my lip in what I hope is a flirty smile.
The mom on the row in front of me turns, likely trying to figure out who he’s looking at, and her mouth opens in surprise.
Yes, ma’am, I can still catch a man’s eye.
Austin nudges Tyler, bringing his attention back to the kids and they get to work, running drills and practicing lay ups.
Austin takes half the group and Tyler takes the other half, keeping Jay with him.
Watching him patiently guide and instruct these kids stirs something inside me.
Everything I’ve kept locked up tight unfurls like a fern frond in my chest, whispering dangerous things.
This could all be yours, it says. Reach out and grab it.
Nope, nope, nope. Don’t go there, Josie.
Dismissing my foolish thoughts, I remind myself he’s fulfilling a responsibility.
This has nothing to do with me and everything to do with my kids.
I’m silly to let thoughts of him being mine enter my mind.
A silly fool who knows better than to hope for more than my current reality.
I know I should pay attention to practice—Jay will want to talk about it later—but instead, I’m back thinking about Tyler stepping off my porch the other day, shoebox of letters in tow.
Has he read them yet? What must he think of my ramblings?
Handing that box to him was hard, and I almost snatched it back before it was tucked securely under his arm.
In each letter I divulged my innermost thoughts and feelings, and they helped me understand myself better as I wrote.
Knowing he’d never actually lay eyes on them allowed me to be unabashedly Jo.
Silly, goofy, rambly, and sometimes sad, Jo.
But now, the past has come knocking and all those words on page are at his mercy.
An hour passes, my mind wandering all over the place, and Austin blows his whistle, bringing the kids to center court.
They huddle around and after a few minutes Austin yells, “Celtics, on three!” All the boys throw their hands in the center of their huddle, yelling out Celtics in unison and they disperse, heading to the waiting moms on the bleachers.
I climb down the bleachers and meet Jay on the sidelines, Tyler following behind him. Tyler places one big hand on Jay’s head, and Jay grins up at him.
“Your kid’s good, Jo,” Tyler says.
Jay’s grin stretches ear to ear, and my heart stutters in my chest. Jay isn’t even his, and he’s swooping in, taking part in not only Abby’s life, but equally Jay’s.
“I know!” I say, poking Jay in the tummy. “Taught him all those moves, just so you know,” I tease.
Jay rolls his eyes. “You did not, Mom. I had to teach you how to play HORSE. Everybody knows how to play HORSE.”
This brings a laugh to my lips. “You get better by teaching, kiddo.”
I notice several moms waiting to speak to Tyler, but he never looks their way.
Austin steps over to them to see if he can answer any questions.
With curious glances at Tyler and me, they speak with Austin instead.
Again, something stirs, because he could be talking to every mom in this room, yet his eyes haven’t left me.
“Where’s Abby?” Tyler asks, looking around the gym.
“She stayed home,” Jay calls over his shoulder then scampers off to talk to one of his friends.
“The kids and I are getting a Christmas tree today. Wanna come?” The words are out of my mouth before I can second-guess them. I hadn’t even thought about going to the Christmas tree farm today, but here I am, looking for excuses to be around Tyler.
“Of course I wanna go.” Then like he read my mind, he tacks on, “Anything to be with you, Jo.”
My lips part on a breathy exhale. Tyler keeps on doing this. Saying things that make me think perhaps I’m more than just the mother of the daughter he didn’t know he had. More than an obligation or a responsibility. And damn my heart. The quickening in my chest is proof of how easily he affects me.
I give a cool, “We leave in an hour,” then collect Jay and head out to my car.
Forty-five minutes later, I look much more presentable, wearing my favorite denim overalls.
They have a few paint stains, but I think that gives them character.
There’s no time to straighten my hair, so it’s staying curly today, but I did throw on a quick dab of makeup.
Examining my reflection in my bathroom mirror, I turn my head back and forth, looking at my wild curls.
This is the first time he’s seen my curly hair.
Reaching up, I pull one spiral strand, watching as it springs up from my release.
A knock sounds at my front door, greeted by Smudge’s yaps. I head to open it, knowing it’s Tyler on the other side. Rising onto my toes, I look through my peephole to ogle him without him seeing me.
He must have run to the apartment and changed, because he’s now wearing jeans and a UT hoodie. A brown beanie is pulled low over his ears, his nose red from the cold. I don’t even bother biting back a smile.
Swinging the door open, I step back so he can enter.
“I know you said an hour, but I thought I’d come early to see if you need anything to secure the tree to my roof rack.” Tyler kneels to pet Smudge, scratching under his chin.
“Oh, I usually borrow Liam’s truck when we go.” And now I have to text Liam and see if he’s in town to use his truck. I did not think this spur of the moment idea through.
Tyler straightens, glancing to his SUV and back at me.
“I’ve got you, Jo.” His words give me pause and if I think too hard on them I could easily read more into that statement than a reliable way to haul a Christmas tree.
I tell him where the tarp and rope are, and we all load into his vehicle. Tyler plugs the tree farm address into his GPS, and we’re off.
Throughout the drive, Jay talks almost non-stop about ball practice, and Tyler answers each and every question.
“Hey, Tyler. Wanna hear a joke?” Jay asks.
“Sure do.”
“Why can’t you hear a pterodactyl go to the bathroom?”
Jay doesn’t wait for Tyler to take a guess, jumping to the punchline immediately. “Because the P is silent.”