Chapter 7 Weston
Weston
Jerome and I stood on the sideline, watching the boys run through their plays during their scrimmage.
We allowed them to play basketball without the adults interrupting and telling them what to do or calling fouls.
This was their time to work on their game-time skills and teamwork.
While I tried to make sure every boy played in every game, there were times when some teammates didn’t play alongside the starting five.
Scrimmaging gave me an opportunity to see the boys differently.
The buzzer sounded, and Cutter finished the play, even though his last two points wouldn’t count. Everyone huddled at center court, gathering around Jerome and me.
“Tomorrow night we have another tough one,” I said in the circle.
“Each game from here on out is going to be a battle. Our undefeated record puts a target on our backs. Other teams want to beat us. It’s bragging rights.
Each time we step out onto the court, we need to be at our best. If you’re not feeling it, there’s nothing wrong with saying so.
” I paused and looked at each of the boys.
“Yes, Coach,” they all said.
“All right, bring it in. Timberwolves on three.” I counted down, and we all yelled.
The boys ambled off toward the locker room, while Jerome and I started toward my office.
The door to the gym opened and closed, grabbing my attention.
I turned and saw her . . . the woman who was at the game for Cutter last night.
As much as I wanted to think she was there because we’d had some kind of crosscourt connection, I knew better.
With my best coach face in place, I walked toward her. “Can I help you?”
Immediately, she stuck her hand out. “I’m Antonia Bernardi, Cutter Vaughn’s aunt. Are you his coach?”
“That’s me, Weston Schmidt, and that’s Jerome Levy, my assistant.” I pointed toward Jerome, who stopped picking up the cones we had out to wave. “What can I do for you?”
“Is there a place we can talk?”
“Sure, my office is this way.”
I looked at Jerome and wondered if I should motion for him to join us or not. Selfishly, I wanted to sit in my cramped space with her. The instant attraction I’d felt last night was back, but tenfold. None of this made sense. Sure, she was beautiful, but so were a lot of women.
We entered my office, and I waited for her to cross the threshold before I closed the door behind her. She sat in the chair across from my desk and clasped her hands in her lap.
I sat across from her and inhaled sharply when my heart twisted. She wasn’t just beautiful.
Antonia was striking.
Her deep-brown, shoulder-length hair framed her face in loose waves, and though the fluorescent lighting wasn’t forgiving, she seemed to glow. Not in a way that came from makeup or careful grooming but from something deeper, something raw and untouchable. A quiet strength.
Then there were her wide-set hazel eyes, a mix of deep green and rich gold that shifted with the light.
They were red-rimmed, shadowed with exhaustion.
Even so, they held me captive. There was something unguarded about them, as if she wasn’t just looking at me, but through me, like she was searching for something she couldn’t quite name.
And for the first time in a long time, I wanted to be that something.
And her mouth.
Christ, her lips were full and looked velvety soft. They were slightly parted, as if she had a million words she wanted to say but didn’t know where to start. My gaze lingered there a second too long before I forced myself to meet her eyes again.
I cleared my throat and shook my mind clear. She took my cue, which I was thankful for because I had no idea how to proceed.
“I need to make this quick,” she started.
“I don’t want Cutter to know I’m in here.
” Antonia cleared her throat and adjusted in the chair.
“We’ve had some bad news; his mom is dying.
She’s going to tell him tonight, and I suspect he’ll need someone to talk to that isn’t me. Miri said the two of you are close—”
“Wait, what?” I tried to process what Antonia had said but couldn’t, for the life of me, accept that Miriam was dying. She’d been a fixture in my life ever since I moved to Grove Hill and was one of my most dedicated parents, always first to volunteer.
My stomach dropped, the air in the room suddenly feeling too thick, too heavy to breathe. This community couldn’t afford to lose someone like Miriam. My chest tightened, a sharp, noticeable ache in my heart.
How could this world be so damn cruel?
My jaw clenched and my palms grew sweaty, a sure sign of impending tears. I refused to cry in front of Antonia. Not because I was afraid to express myself, but because she didn’t know me, and I had already imagined her as part of my future. Something told me crying might scare her off.
“Sorry, Miri said you’re close—”
“No, not that part, and I’m sorry for interrupting you. Ms. Vaughn is dying?”
Antonia looked away, but not before I saw her eyes fill with tears. She inhaled deeply and cleared her throat again. “Yes, cancer. I’ll be taking care of the kids for the time being. My name and number are on Cutter’s file if you need anything.” She stood and turned toward the door.
I stood as well. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. I live a couple houses down from them. Please . . .” I paused, needing to take a deep inhale to keep my emotions in check. “Whatever Cutter needs, I’m available.”
Antonia partially looked over her shoulder and gave me a half something. It wasn’t a smile or grimace, but more like acceptance. She opened the door and disappeared from my office. I sat back down and let what she’d told me run on repeat through my mind.
Jerome came in and sat in the previously occupied chair. “What was that about?”
I glanced at the open door and heard the boys coming out of the locker room. “I’ll have to tell you later, but it isn’t good.” I got up from my desk and went out to the hall. It was my job to make sure the boys didn’t do anything that would get them into trouble with the school.
Antonia stood in the hall with a few other parents. I tried not to look at her but failed. Last night at the game, I’d seen some life in her, especially when she’d interacted with Cutter and his sister. Tonight, I knew it had been an act. She was saving face for the benefit of the children.
Cutter came out of the locker room laughing, until he saw Antonia. I stepped back and watched their interaction.
“Hey,” she said as she pasted a smile across her lips. “How was practice?”
“Fine,” he said plainly. “You didn’t have to come in.”
“I didn’t know if you’d see my car outside.”
He stood there, with his teammates walking past him. “Where’s my mom?”
Miriam was such a strong presence in his life, and the way his shoulder stiffened, I could tell he knew something was wrong. I stepped forward, thinking I could help, but then I realized I had nothing to offer. This was something between them, and it didn’t involve me.
“Grandma’s in the car with Nova.”
Cutter stood there with his fist clenched around the strap of his bag. “Is my mom home?”
She smiled and gave him a slight nod. “Come on. It’s cold, and my car’s running.” She moved toward the door.
“Can I drive?”
I saw her shake her head and Cutter’s head fall back.
He let out a loud groan. The trials and tribulations of a teenage boy were an ever-revolving story.
I’d heard countless stories from the team and students about how they hadn’t gotten into driver’s ed and how private driving lessons were too expensive.
I kindly reminded them of where they lived and how there wasn’t anywhere to drive.
Not to mention, kids needed to slow down and not try to grow up so fast.
After the last boy had left, Jerome and I went back to my office.
I filled him in and then sent an email to all of Cutter’s teachers, letting them know of the situation and promising to keep them apprised once I’d found out more information.
It was important for his teachers to know and show him grace if he needed it.
Something told me he would.