Chapter 6 Darius
DARIUS
I really thought we had a connection. Sure, physical, but something more.
Clearly, I was wrong. I never expected Harry to be the type of guy who hooks up and then ghosts, but I guess I didn’t know him as well as I thought.
At least we don’t have to see each other too often.
His class only has PE twice a week, and I can eat lunch in my office to avoid seeing him in the teacher’s lounge.
Later that morning, when Lexi gets smashed in the face with a ball, I don’t even notice until the screaming reverberates in the gym.
“Coach? Coach?” It’s Maynor—Coach Applegate to the kids during practice, but Mr. Applegate during the day when he’s a special education aide. He’s here to support Lexi and Hugh. Thankfully, he’s already kneeling by a very distraught Lexi.
“Sorry, sorry,” I stammer to Maynor.
“Fifth graders, water break,” I holler. “Then laps.” I head over as the rest of the class groans.
“Don’t give me attitude,” I yell, a little louder than I mean to.
They’ll spend most of their time lined up by the fountain, taking long drinks, getting back in line, and barely do a lap around the gym’s perimeter by the time we’re back to dodgeball, but they complain anyway. They’re ten—it’s in their DNA.
“What happened?” I ask as I kneel next to Maynor and Lexi.
He’s examining her face, and I join him, searching for swelling and/or blood. Lexi’s cheeks are red and swollen, but she’s also sobbing, so it’s hard to discern the culprit.
“She should go to the nurse,” I say. “Just to be safe.”
He nods, but as he stands, Lexi’s crying stops, and she says, “No, I’m okay. I want to keep playing.”
Maynor and I exchange a look.
“Why don’t you get a drink with the other kids,” Maynor says, “and then we’ll check in.” He glances at me. “We can always stop by Mrs. Lowell’s on the way back to class.”
Lexi nods and runs over to the line in front of the water fountain. Her sneakers squeak against the shiny gym floor with each quick step, the sound sharp and rhythmic, echoing throughout the otherwise quiet space.
“You okay, Coach?” Maynor rises from the wood floor and wipes his hands on his backside.
“Yeah, fine, just a little tired.”
“Sorry again about this weekend. The vet really thought Alice would hold off until after the semis, but, well, Mother Nature has her own schedule.”
I nod, and a small smile creeps onto my face. Only Maynor would name his poodle Alice.
“How is she?”
“Surprisingly fine. Six puppies, all doing well. My mother is working from home to keep an eye on them, and so far, besides a few restless nights, everyone’s acclimating.”
“Glad to hear it.” I pull my lips in, watching the first few kids leisurely jog around the black line that paints the perimeter of the gym.
“And you tied. Johnny said it was a miracle on ice, and Mr. Peterson was a great pinch hitter.”
Mr. Peterson. Harry. I suck in a gulp of air and slowly push it out of my pursed lips.
“What, was he not? Did something happen?”
Over the past three years, since he started helping me with the hockey team, Maynor and I have become friends.
He’s invited me over for dinner countless times.
Two years ago, when his wife passed, his mother came to support him and never left.
She makes the most amazing chicken pot pie.
When she tried to set me up with a woman she works with, and I politely declined, she didn’t hesitate—without missing a beat, she suggested a male coworker instead.
My eyes close as the chatter of the few kids left in line at the fountain mixes with the squeaks of shoes on the gym floor, making my head spin. I open my mouth, wanting to say something but unsure how to find the words.
“Oh. Listen, Coach,” he says, but Hugh, taking his first lap, lingers by the exit, and Maynor needs to attend to him.
“On my way back to class, I’m going to drop Lexi at the nurse, take Hugh back to Mrs. Kipp, and come back.
You sit. Get a drink. Take some deep breaths. I’ll be back in five minutes.”
A lump forms in my throat, heavy and tight, as I try to swallow the emotion. On the ice, Maynor may be my assistant, but between being fifteen years older and having way more sense of calm than I could ever muster up, it often feels like he’s the one in charge of me.
Maynor wrangles the fifth graders into a line, taking control of the chaos.
With the fountain empty, I fill my water bottle, trying to ignore the buzz of energy as he manages them.
I’ve got about fifteen minutes before the next class arrives, so I take a seat on the edge of the bleachers, letting my mind settle for a second.
It’s quiet for a moment, just the faint echo of sneakers in the hallway and kids’ voices fading as Maynor ushers them out.
I lean back, running through the situation in my head, trying to catch my breath.
Then Maynor’s back, his presence like a shift in the air. He slumps down next to me and takes a breath before glancing at his watch.
“We’ve got fifteen minutes before your next class starts and my ass needs to be back to Mrs. Kipp. So, Hill, we can sit here in silence, you can hem and haw saying nothing, or you can spill it.”
“Twelve minutes.” I glance at my watch. “You were lollygagging.”
This elicits a smirk from him, but he quickly wipes it away and forces his stern face back.
“Darius.”
My first name. He means business.
“Something did happen in Rhode Island.”
He raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue.
“With Peterson. Mr. Peterson. Harry. The English teacher.”
“I'm aware of who he is.”
“Turns out there was only one room left at the hotel, and that room only had one bed. And, well . . .”
“Well, what? You and I have shared beds on plenty of away games.”
He’s really going to make me say it.
“Yeah, but I don't have a massive crush on you, Applegate.”
“Thank goodness for that. You're so not my type.”
A laugh escapes my lips, grateful he's making light of the situation.
“So you played kissy-face with Mr. Peterson. Good for you.” Maynor places his hand on my knee. “Darius, you deserve to be happy.”
“That’s the thing. I want to be. I’ve liked Harry for a while now. Years, I guess.”
“I figured that’s why you’re always giving him a hard time.”
“You knew?”
“Why else would you tease him so mercilessly?”
“Exactly. See, you get it. But the thing is, even after the . . . kissy-face stuff . . . he doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“No. Well, sort of. He ignored me the rest of the trip. And this morning, he told me it was all a mistake.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, Coach.” Maynor pulls his lips in, trying to hide his grin. “Listen, if it helps, one thing I know about courtin’ is you can’t give up. Did I ever tell you about how I finally nabbed Lucy?”
I shake my head, curious despite myself. Maynor hasn’t talked much about Lucy since she passed.
“Well, let me tell you. It wasn’t easy. We met in college, back when we were both still figuring out life.
I’d seen her around campus, of course—smart, confident, and the kind of woman who walks into a room like she owns it.
I’m not gonna lie, I was drawn to her from the first moment I saw her.
” He chuckles, shaking his head as if the memory still amuses him.
“But Lucy? She wasn’t interested in me at all.
Not at first. She had this whole ‘I’m focused on my future’ vibe, and I was just some guy on the hockey team who made terrible jokes and had no clue how to talk to women.
I tried everything—inviting her to study groups, sitting near her in the dining hall, but she barely gave me the time of day.
” He pauses, a smirk creeping up his face.
“I’ve never seen someone dodge a guy’s advances so smoothly.
It was like watching someone avoid a puddle—she just glided right around me. ”
I laugh softly, trying to picture it.
“But you didn’t give up, did you?” I ask.
“Nope,” he says, shaking his head again, more serious now.
“I was persistent. I kept showing up, kept being myself, even when it felt like she didn’t notice.
And eventually, after months of me just being around—after all those terrible dates I set up that ended in ‘Let’s just be friends,’ she finally saw something in me.
Maybe she saw the effort I was putting in, maybe she saw I wasn’t going anywhere, but one night, after a late study session, she asked me to grab a coffee. Just the two of us.”
“And that was it?” I ask, surprised at how simple it sounds.
“Yeah,” he nods, looking almost nostalgic. “It’s funny how that works. Sometimes you don’t know when the moment’s going to hit, but when it does, everything falls into place. It wasn’t some grand gesture. It was just me being there. And the next thing I knew, we were together.”
I can see the heartache in his eyes, and I reach over and squeeze his shoulder. “You two had something special.”
He nods, taking a deep inhale.
“I think I get what you’re saying,” I say. “Keep showing up?”
Maynor grins, his usual easy confidence back. “Exactly. You keep showing up, Coach. You never know when it’ll click.”
“All right, Applegate,” I say, squeezing his shoulder. “I need to get the balls reset.”
“And I need to get back to class. Remember, keep showing up.”
With that, I turn and head toward my office, feeling a bit lighter than before. Maybe there’s more to this whole “showing up” thing than I realized. Thoughts of how to reach Harry and show him my resolve chase each other through my mind. I know there’s something between us, and I’m not giving up.