THREE
SERENA
CHASE: Got time for a quick lunch at Hank’s? I’m buying.
SERENA: Sure, as long as you promise not to steal my fries.
CHASE: I don’t make promises I can’t keep.
SERENA: Then I’m ordering onion rings too.
CHASE: Wouldn’t expect anything less.
I throw my truck into park outside the stadium and check my YouTube channel. I only uploaded my weather report for the day an hour ago, but a girl can dream of going viral, right? I laugh at the icon that tells me it’s been viewed by four people. Make that five, I think, as the video starts to play and my voice echoes around the truck’s cabin.
“So leave your umbrellas at home but grab a sweater if you’re heading out this evening. Midday might feel warm, but those early mornings and late afternoons are starting to carry a bite. Don’t forget to drop your weather questions in the comments! Yesterday six-year-old Ruby from Idaho Springs asked, ‘When will it snow?’
“Well, Ruby, great question. We’ve already seen the first snowflakes in the high Rockies, but for Idaho Springs and Denver we’re not quite there yet. Denver doesn’t usually see its first measurable snow until later in October. Right now, there aren’t any big cold fronts dipping down from Canada, so I think we’ve got a few more weeks of fall sunshine to enjoy. But keep those snow boots handy. Halloween onwards is prime time for our first real snowstorm.”
I’m just about to tuck my phone into my bag when my big sister’s name flashes on my screen.
“Elle, I thought you’d be doing carpool by now,” I say by way of hello as I swipe to answer.
“We are,” she replies. “You’re on speaker. Say hi to Auntie Serena.”
There’s a chorus of shouts from my two nieces. I imagine them in the back seats on their way to school. Ruby is so smart already. Her little sister, Grace, is four and the same. Both of them can already do two back-to-back cartwheels. My chest warms at the sound of their voices and the love I have for these three gorgeous humans.
“Just calling to say Ruby loved the video. Thank you.”
My smile widens as I climb out my truck. “She’s my biggest fan. It’s only her and Chase who ask any questions and, believe me, the questions from a six-year-old are far more mature than Chase’s. Last week he asked, ‘If clouds are full of water, why don’t they just fall out of the sky like giant water balloons?’”
Elle laughs. “Love that man.”
I picture Elle in her minivan. She has the same sun-streaked blonde hair we both inherited from Mom. Elle’s is cut short, and she has laugh lines deepened by two kids, exhausted, and exactly where she wants to be.
“How’s the hunt for a new roommate going?” she asks.
I make a face Elle can’t see as I head toward the cheer office at the back of the Stormhawks stadium, tucking the bag of bagels under one arm. “I’ve not started looking. Liv isn’t getting married until March, and she’s not moving in with Jensen until the new year. I’ve got time.” The truth is, Liv and I have been living together for nearly seven years and the thought of starting again with someone new feels impossible.
“Serena.” Elle drags out my name. I can imagine her fixing me with the same look Mom used to give when she knew one of us was hiding something.
“I know.” I sigh. “I’m going to look, it’s just hard to imagine finding anyone who can replace Liv.”
“And—”
“And it’s not like I thought we’d be roommates forever, but I guess I thought that when it ended, we’d be moving on with our lives. Except I’m not, am I? I’m still at square one. The same place I’ve always been.”
“Serena! How can you say that? You have an amazing life. You’re a cheer coach for the Stormhawks. You live in a super cool loft apartment. You’re best friends with the quarterback, and one day soon the whole of Colorado is going to realize you’re the best person to get their weather from, and you’re going to have millions of subscribers, and be even cooler than you already are. And then one of those gorgeous football players is going to sweep you off your feet and treat you like the queen you are.”
I can’t help but smile at my sister’s pep talk and her unwavering, if not unfounded, optimism for what my future will look like. I’m about to reply when there’s a noise in the background, followed by Elle’s exasperated voice. “Oh my God, Grace, why is Mr. Pickles in your school bag? How many times do I have to say this? You cannot take a cat to school with you. Gotta go, S. Call you later.”
I’m still smiling as I make my way through the empty halls, my footsteps echoing on the concrete floors. The stadium is always quiet following a game. The corridors smell faintly of sweat and cleaning products. I pass the row of coaching offices—spacious rooms with digital whiteboards of cluttered plays and support staff already bent over laptops. At least I rarely have to worry about bumping into Ryan down here. He and the rest of management sit in spacious glass offices perched at the top of the stadium with views of the field.
When I step into our cramped cheer office, our head coach, Tanya, is already at her desk in the corner, phone pressed to her ear. “On hold with the network,” she says quietly. “They cut to commercial last night before the end of the routine.”
Tanya reminds me of Mama Sullivan. The firm, take-no-shit way she approaches everything. Except without Mama’s warmth. Tanya is in her fifties. Five foot nothing with narrow eyes and faded red hair. She’s been head coach since I joined the cheer squad at eighteen. She used to terrify me, but over the years that terror has morphed into a deep respect. Tanya has to make tough decisions when it comes to choosing the squad from hundreds of applicants come tryout time. Beneath it all is a furious passion for cheering and making sure her girls are the best in the league.
I head to the whiteboard and grab a cloth to wipe away the choreography from last night’s routine. When it’s back-to-back home games the choreography has to be turned around fast so the squad have time to learn it, but our next home game isn’t until week seven, giving us a long lead time to develop and deliver a truly amazing routine. By the way Liv bursts through the door, brandishing a cardboard tray of coffees, a pack of board pens, and a broad smile, I know that she’s as excited about the new routine as me. Her midnight black hair shines as brightly as her eyes as she strides toward me.
“Hear me out,” she sing-songs, in the same voice she’s used a hundred times over the years to coax me out to bars or onto a dance floor when all I wanted was pajamas and a good book. She usually won, and we usually ended up with the best stories. Still, my favorite nights are the ones where it’s just the two of us, a tub of ice cream balanced between us, and re-runs of Gossip Girl. “What if instead of the usual pom-poms, we go for flaming batons? Picture it. Kick line. Pumping music. Then bam! Sticks on fire, crowd losing their mind?—”
Before I can reply, Tanya calls from the corner. “Picture the lawsuits, Olivia. Love the creativity but fire is a no-go.”
“What about some aerial work?” I suggest. “So many routines are ground based, but we’ve got the time and the skills in this squad to pull off something more daring.”
“Put a routine together and pitch it to me tomorrow,” Tanya says before being pulled back to her call.
Liv’s grin is wicked. “That’s what I wanted, really.”
“Knew it,” I reply as she hands me a coffee and I pass her the bagel bag.
Three hours later we’ve got the bones of a routine in place. There’s still a lot of fine-tuning required, and we need to decide which girls will take on the aerial work, but it’s progress.
A part of me still longs to be the cheerleader in the front row. Big smile, high kicks. Perfect moves every time. But when I hit twenty-six, the landings didn’t bounce back the same. My knees creaked in a way I knew they shouldn’t. So, when a coaching position came up last year, it felt like the right call, especially with Liv having moved over to coaching a few months before.
Coaching has given me stability. One job instead of three. As a coach, I help choreograph the routines and plan the schedule, as well as a million other things. And because I’ve lived in their shoes, I think it helps me look after the girls in a way no coach ever did for me. It’s why I keep extra snacks in my gym bag alongside a stash of hair ties, Band-Aids, and blister patches. I’m the one who tucks handwritten notes into lockers before big games.
My stomach growls as I glance at the clock.
Liv lifts her head. “I’d say we should grab lunch, but Jensen’s mom is insisting we take another look at the dress I’ve picked.” She rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t stay like that. “I swear, if she could, she’d march me down the aisle in a high-neck prairie gown with sleeves to my wrists. Please, please come and be my wingman.”
I laugh as I grab my bag. “I’d love to, but I already have plans to meet Chase for lunch. If you’re finished in time, come join us. We’ll be at Hank’s,” I reply, mentioning Chase’s favorite diner a few blocks from the stadium.
Before Liv can reply, a knock rattles the door and a delivery guy steps in, juggling a huge bouquet of red roses.
“Wow. They’re gorgeous,” Liv says, scooping them up and plucking at the envelope, already smiling. Of course they’re from Jensen. It’s exactly the kind of thoughtful thing he’d do. And for no other reason than to make her smile.
Except, that smile fades as she reads the card, cringes, and hands it to me. “Maybe not gorgeous after all.”
My heart sinks. I already know who they’re from as I read the card aloud. “Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman. Be my date to the Hearts of Denver awards?”
The Hearts of Denver awards ceremony is in two weeks. It’s black tie, red carpet, the whole city’s elite turning out. I was already planning to attend with the Sullivans. Dylan’s being honored for his work with the Stormhawks outreach program, giving disadvantaged kids access to football, coaching, and equipment.
Of course, Ryan wants me as his date. The perfect chance to parade me on his arm like old times. I can’t believe I didn’t see his true colors for the seven months we were together. It wasn’t just where we ate and what we did that Ryan wanted control over. It was what outfit I was planning to wear and how I spent my time when we weren’t together, always dressed up like concern or affection.
You should wear your black dress. You look so beautiful in that.
Are you sure you should be going out tonight? You look like you need one of your cozy nights in.
Why did I ever agree to date Ryan in the first place? I said no at first, worried about the crossover of our jobs and Ryan’s role in staff coordination. But he kept asking, and back then I convinced myself his persistence was romantic.
It’s not the first time I’ve ignored red flags in a relationship. I never seem to know when to quit. I keep hoping, clinging, trying to make it work long after the cracks have split wide open in the relationship. It’s like I can’t give up on searching for that big love.
Liv snorts. “He’s more focused on getting you back now than he ever was on making you happy when you were together.”
“Right?” I mutter, staring at the roses I don’t want and don’t know what to do with.
I shove the bouquet aside, sling my bag over my shoulder, and let out a long breath. One question loops around my head: What the hell is it going to take for Ryan to get the message?