Chapter 9
nine
JACK
“Okay, girls,” Brady said to the intent little faces staring back at him.
“Just play your game. Keep your shape out there and remember to make smart passes. Use the whole field and give each other room to move. I know it’s tempting to race down every ball, but trust your teammates. They’ll have your back.”
The girls nodded.
It was a bright Saturday morning, the last weekend in September, and the Brookline U9 girls’ team was up against the Vultures from Lake Archer.
Jamie and Gia had already been complaining about their opponents, saying they cheated and liked to play rough, always swooping in and scoring in the final few minutes, so there wouldn’t be a chance for a comeback.
Brady had been good at changing the direction of the conversation, painting a positive spin on teamwork, and settling the girls before their first game.
“Hands in,” I said.
Nine little hands stacked on top of mine, and I resisted the urge to smile at their determined expressions combined with glittery hairspray and French braids. Jamie had been right. The Magnolia Bar logo made for a nice jersey. The kids looked ready to go.
After our cheer, I consulted my clipboard and the starting lineup Brady and I had worked on. Gia lingered in front of me, the pale blue bow on the back of her head taking up a lot of real estate.
“I just want to say,” she informed me, “that the man-bun was clearly the right call.”
“Yes!” came a chorus of tiny squeals.
“It looks great, Coach Jack.” Jamie gave me a thumbs-up.
I fidgeted, pushing my glasses up my nose, uncomfortable with the attention.
Brady’s eyes scanned my hair and the strands that had been gathered into a short bun just above my nape. “Man, I’m jealous. My hair grows out all flat. I could never pull that off.”
I rolled my eyes and focused on calling out the lineup. When the seven starters had taken the field, I glanced over to the sideline where the parents and spectators were gathered.
My little practice crashers, Jacob and Charlie, were sitting beneath one of the trees lining the sidewalk. They seemed to be watching covertly, and I wondered at that.
Then, my eyes caught on Bonnie. She was dragging a cooler behind her and following her sister, who had two camp chairs slung over her shoulder.
Bonnie wore jeans and a light blue shirt that made it clear which team she supported.
Her gaze met mine, and her mouth dropped open a moment before she smiled widely.
That reaction—so honest and forthright—knocked me off-balance and kicked my heart into gear. She was so sweet, so earnest, and distractingly beautiful in the early-morning light.
I lifted my hand off my clipboard and gave her a small wave. About that time, Mac stopped to set up her chairs, but Bonnie didn’t seem to notice. She kept right on staring at me and stumbled into her sister.
I looked down at my clipboard, fighting a smile, thinking all those ridiculous man-bun instructional videos on YouTube might not have been a waste of time after all.
Maybe I wanted her to think about me. Maybe I’d been hoping she’d show up for the game this morning.
I liked that she’d kept her word to the girls.
Something that could have easily been written off as casual, an agreement made in the moment and then quickly forgotten.
But of course, she was here. Bonnie didn’t fall flat on her promises.
She wouldn’t leave anyone hanging. That just wasn’t her.
I was glad she was here because I’d wanted to see her, too.
I’d thought about that kiss more than a few times in the last three days.
The way she’d felt hugging me tight on the back of my bike.
All her softness and sweetness and the way she’d trusted me with her secrets. But I knew I needed to be careful.
Bonnie was just coming off a messy divorce, one she hadn’t wanted. It made sense that her feelings would be all over the place and still tied up with her ex. She was vulnerable and probably not ready for . . . anything involving me. Not that I really knew what that might be.
I didn’t really date. I wasn’t sure what I could offer someone like her, beyond a roll in the hay.
A quick rebound.
But something about the thought of that had me gripping the pen in my hand a little too tightly. And when I told myself to stop being an idiot, I looked up to see the game had started.
I made myself focus, forced my attention on what was happening on the field. Not the blond sitting opposite, cheering her heart out for my team.
Brady shouted encouragement and direction. The girls responded, playing well together. But Gia hadn’t been exaggerating; the Vultures played to win. Two girls with black jerseys received warnings for slide tackling, a move that wasn’t allowed at this age.
Partway through the first twenty-five-minute half, a girl from the opposing team viciously elbowed Jamie out of the way well before the ball got within striking distance. Jamie went flying, her small body barrel-rolling on the grass.
Brady and I both stepped onto the field as the whistle blew, stopping play for the foul.
But Jamie gamely hopped to her feet, and I breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m okay,” she told Raeanne, who’d hurried over to check on her. She winced but gave Brady and me a thumbs-up.
Shouts came from the opposite sideline. Angry little-boy squawks of protest. “That should have been a red card!” Jacob shouted from behind the line of parents in their chairs. “Get in the game, ref!”
Brady whacked me on the shoulder, drawing my attention. “See. Told you.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the kid who was losing his mind over Jamie getting steamrolled.
I shook my head, then said, “What’s a red card?”
My co-coach gave me a disgusted look. “Go home and watch an MLS game. Or at least Ted Lasso. Educate yourself, Coach. Come on.”
Play continued until the whistle blew for halftime. Then Brady talked to the girls while they drank water in a circle around him.
A few minutes into the second half, a girl ran onto the field from out of nowhere. She had wild brown hair and just started chasing the ball down.
“Who is that?” I said, mildly alarmed.
“I don’t know,” Brady replied.
Raeanne was telling the kid to leave, and the high schooler officiating the game apparently didn’t get paid enough to care that we had a feral child on the field.
“That’s Addie,” Gia said from my elbow. “I guess she got back from vacation.”
The name rang a bell. There’d been one kid who hadn’t shown up to practice yet. I was pretty sure she was on my roster.
“You can’t just run on the field,” Callie said from her place on the ground next to her twin, when the girl—Addie—finally made it over to us.
“How did you even get a jersey?” I wondered aloud. I’d just handed them out this morning.
She stood before us unapologetically. “I grabbed it out of your bag. When can I play?”
Brady and I shared a look before he crouched down to chat with the pint-sized thief.
We eventually got Addie subbed in. She was pretty good once she had a position and knew which way the offense was moving. But it didn’t make a difference in the final score. True to the girls’ warning, the Vultures scored in the last two minutes of play. They beat us 3–2.
While the girls dragged their feet over to the sideline, their disappointment was short-lived.
Brady went around the circle of tired bodies and found a compliment for each one of them.
And then Bonnie showed up with her cooler, and no one on the Brookline team seemed to remember that they’d lost this morning.
Bonnie passed out orange slices and packs of Goldfish crackers along with a Gatorade for each kid.
She took the time to chat with her students and their parents.
She checked in on Jamie to make sure she was really okay after that hit.
And I overheard Bonnie telling Tori how brave she was to play in goal.
The shy girl preened under her teacher’s praise.
Eventually, Bonnie made her way to me as the kids surrounded Brady and Mac, giving helpful play-by-plays and asking if they were married.
“Tough loss, Coach,” Bonnie said around a small smile.
“This may come as a surprise, but I’m not actually very competitive. I’m just hoping to survive the season.”
Bonnie laughed, and like clockwork, her hand came up to cover her mouth.
I wanted to tug her fingers away and lace her hand with mine. Press a kiss to those smiling lips.
“Thanks for coming,” I said instead. “You didn’t need to buy snacks for the whole team.”
Her brown eyes drifted over to the girls, smiling softly. “I know. I wanted to do something special for their first game.”
I wondered how many times Bonnie had gone out of her way to make someone else feel special. Was there someone who did that for her? Or did everyone in Bonnie’s life take her for granted the way her husband had?
Silence settled between us, and I thought about asking her what she was doing tomorrow.
If she wanted to take a drive with me. I knew the weather was supposed to be nice, and the thought of her on the back of my bike with her arms wrapped around me was a welcome one.
I wouldn’t mention the fact that I’d picked up another helmet for her.
But then I started second-guessing myself, wondering where I thought this thing with Bonnie was even going.
Rebound whispered in my mind again, and I nearly flinched.
I thought about that khaki-clad principal who’d stared at her longingly and would probably be a much better match.
I wondered what I could possibly have to offer that might be good enough for someone like her.
“Well, I’m going to pack up and head home,” Bonnie eventually said. I’d been too busy wrestling with my own cowardice to keep up with the conversation.