9. Lana
9
LANA
“ H ey, Lana!” the director of student life says with enough enthusiasm to rival Mason. I force a smile but it’s nowhere near as bright as hers.
“Good morning, Shay.”
“Isn’t it?”
The woman practically oozes her bubbly personality, and while I love that for her, it’s a lot this early in the morning. She’s adorable and always looks effortlessly stylish. Today it’s a pink sweater with tiny white polka dots and white, wide leg pants.
She’s a little older than Mason but not by much.
Ugh, when did I get so old?
I thought my blouse and pencil skirt was timeless but maybe I’m outdated. I can’t ask Mason because I’m confident if I showed up in a hazmat suit, he’d still think I’m sexy.
My cheeks heat even as I decide I need to suck it up and ask one of the girls. “It sure is,” I say, going for normal and refraining from fanning my face.
“How was your weekend?”
I stumble through a response because small talk isn’t really my thing, but because it’s polite, I ask her the same, commenting on how I’ve really enjoyed my time at the college so far.
“Have you seen Porter this morning?” she asks casually when there’s a lull in the conversation. Something about her body language has changed that I can’t quite put my finger on.
“Uh, no. But I haven’t gone looking for anything other than a coffee refill.” I wave my mug at her slightly and she nods, her cheeks blushing a tiny bit and oh…
Huh.
If I wasn’t currently involved with Mason, I probably would have missed the underlying meaning in this whole interaction.
“If you see him, will you just tell him I’m looking for him? I need to have him look at my modem.”
“I bet you do,” I say softly without thinking.
“What?”
“I’ll be sure to let him know you’re looking for him if he comes through here.” My smile is genuine this time, and hers seems to brighten too before she says goodbye and heads back to the student center on the opposite side of the sports complex.
Her absence has left the space shockingly quiet, like she’s loud even if she’s not speaking. Glancing at Coach Turner’s closed door, I run through today’s schedule in my head and determine I have nothing pressing for at least the next thirty minutes.
Plenty of time.
Tapping my nail on my desk, I hesitate for just a second before picking up my phone and typing out a text.
LANA: Are pencil skirts out of style?
AMARA: You’re asking the girl who wears the same thing to work every day and considers dog hair to be an accessory
LANA: Fair enough
LANA: Should I try to be friends with my coworkers?
AMARA: I’m going to need more than that
LANA: One of the girls—Shay—works in another department and came to my desk looking for someone but she made small talk
AMARA: And you’re unfamiliar with small talk?
LANA: From people who don’t have malicious intent? Yes.
LANA: But I talked to Mason and was in a good mood
AMARA: We’re going to circle back to Mason in a second…
AMARA: Do you want to be friends with Shay?
LANA: I don’t NOT want to be friends
AMARA: Well…why don’t you see if she wants to grab coffee sometime during the week and see how it goes
LANA: How did you get so smart?
AMARA: I literally deal with people all day long
LANA: I do too but you like them
AMARA: Correction, I like the dogs
Smirking, I put my phone down as Coach Turner pokes his head out of his office. “Lana, do you have a minute?”
“Of course.” I nod, grabbing a pad of paper and a pen and walking down the hall. He motions for me to sit, so I do then wait while he studies me from across the desk.
“As much as I love seeing your smiling face each morning,” he says with a smirk because we both know that smiling face is a bit of a stretch, “what is it you want to do here? While I enjoy workin’ with you and you’ve done a great job, I want to know what you want to do.”
I stutter, “I…I don’t know what you mean.”
He sits back in his chair, his expression softening. “I won’t begin to wonder what it’s like being a stay-at-home mom and then trying to reacclimate into the workforce,” he says simply because we talked at length during my interview about my history, about why there had been such a gap in work for all those years I’d been at home when Jacob had worked.
Life has changed so much since then.
“What do you like, Ms. Richards?” he asks, and I shrug.
“I had thought about getting my real estate license. That was a long time ago, though.”
He nods. “You need more classes for that? Certification? A full course?”
I laugh as I watch the wheels turn in his head. “I think that anything that I’ve taken is long since expired.”
“Well, you find something here that you like, and we’ll make it happen.”
My heart squeezes. The idea of doing anything beyond the nine to five job that I’d set out to do to offer stability to my family is something I couldn’t begin to fathom.
Not when I started.
But months have passed and maybe he’s right—maybe it’s time.
“Oh, Coach,” I manage instead of giving voice to everything running through my mind. His kindness is unparalleled, and I’m so incredibly grateful that I landed here when I’d been at my lowest.
“You don’t have to give me an answer now. But if you’ll let me, I would like to help you figure out what you’d like to do.”
“Kicking me out, Coach?” I say, infusing some levity, because even if he doesn’t, I need it.
“Miss Lana, I’ve seen many people come through these doors. Most don’t have the kind of potential that you have. It’s a restless kind of energy. You’re damn good at your job, and you’ll be damn good at the next thing. But I won’t be the one who holds you back from that. And I’d like to see you doing what you want to do. Awfully brave what you’ve done already,”—he sits forward and levels his gaze at me—“but you’re no longer simply surviving here, and I’d love to see you thriving.”
I don’t react because nobody’s called me brave. I wouldn’t call myself brave either. But being with Mason, meeting new friends here… it does feel kind of brave. Moving somewhere new where I didn’t know anybody, didn’t know what would happen day after day.
But we made it.
And Coach is right.
I knew in my heart that this job would be temporary—a stepping stone—and now that he’s forced me to open my eyes to the possibilities, I don’t want to wear the blinders anymore.
I wipe away the tear that slides down my cheek as the enormity of this conversation settles over me.
“You’ve been so good to me, Coach.”
“Ahh,” he grunts and it makes me smile. “I like to see all my kids doin’ well. I told you that.”
“You’ve just got the biggest heart is all.”
He shrugs. “Wife doesn’t complain.” He winks and I chuckle as I stand.
“Thanks for believing in me when I didn’t quite believe in myself,” I say, clutching the unused notepad to my chest.
He clears his throat as he stands and holds his arms out. “C’mere,” he says gruffly, making come here into one mangled word. “Proud of you, kid.”
“But you haven’t known me that long,” I whisper.
“Doesn’t matter. You’ve got a fire your ex-husband couldn’t put out,” he says, pushing me back to look me in the eyes, “and it’s only gotten brighter, so you let me be proud until you’re ready to be proud of yourself.”
“You give a hell of a pep talk.”
He laughs and squeezes my arms. “That’s why they pay me the big bucks.” He winks and I smile, nodding as I head back to my desk with my newly realigned world coming into focus.
Holland and Beck.
Mason.
Making new friends.
Taking a breath and not bothering to hold back my smile, I add, get real estate license to the list that’s just for me.