Chapter 6
SIX
LUCAS
Unfortunately, part of Play it Forward means attending Nolan’s games.
While I’ve been to his practices before, I was there to hang out with Jace or do him a favor, but when it comes to mentoring a kid at his game, I’m extremely bad at it.
I don’t have enough patience or mental energy to be the kind of cheerleader Nolan needs.
His mom, on the other hand? She has the cheerleading thing down to a science. She might as well be doing jumping jacks, and no one would notice a difference.
And why does it have to be so hot? It’s March, a month known for windy days, rain, and chilly weather. But no. It has to be in the eighties, and I was the genius who decided to wear black.
Kids are running back and forth with the ball, and moms grab their little ones as they dart onto the soccer field.
“That’s it—command your box, Nolan,” I call. “Great job.”
Two of the other mothers are studying me from their folding camping chairs.
They have the soccer mom thing down. Sporty tank tops, shorts, sturdy athletic shoes, holding fountain drinks.
Probably full of Diet Coke. Who knows, maybe a shot or two of something stronger.
They keep putting their heads together and talking after looking at me.
Finally, they meet my gaze and stand and head over to me. Great. Here we go.
“Are you Nolan’s dad?” the one with the abnormally white teeth asks.
“No.”
“His uncle?” the one with the overdone spray tan wants to know.
“Nope.” How many questions are they going to ask?
“His mom’s boyfriend?” Ms. Blinding Smile asks.
I grind out, “I’m his mentor,” before they can continue down that train of thought.
Anabelle, who has somehow wandered closer since my attack started, looks over and smiles at me, clearly enjoying my plight way too much.
“Watch out!” one of the moms yells.
A rogue soccer ball sails through the air toward me. My goalie reflexes immediately kick in, and I snap into action, catching it midair.
It’s like time freezes for a moment, and all goes quiet. Everyone is staring at me.
“Lucas, that was so cool,” Nolan says in awe.
I shrug a shoulder. “Not really,” I grumble.
But Anabelle is looking at me like one of those emojis with stars in their eyes. Or maybe it’s the one with the hearts. But as soon as she catches me looking at her, she swaps her expression for a bored one, looking away from me.
“Okay, but why was that kinda attractive?” Aubrey says way too loudly from beside Anabelle.
Anabelle rolls her eyes and elbows her.
I sigh. “Someone, please put me out of my misery,” I mutter to myself.
When we get to halftime, the players crowd around Anabelle, who is passing out snacks. I reach into my bag and grab a Gatorade.
Just as I’m about to open my drink, there’s a stir by Anabelle’s chair.
“I could have sworn there were enough drinks here for everyone,” Anabelle says.
Nolan squirms and looks up sheepishly. “Sorry, Mom. I drank one on the way over.”
Anabelle sighs. “I’m sorry, Jacob.”
“It’s no big deal.” The kid’s face is red from running in the heat. He’s trying to act tough, but it’s clear he needs to rehydrate.
I hand my unopened Gatorade to Jacob. “You can have this one.”
Jacob brightens. “Thanks, Coach Lucas!”
“It’s just Lucas.”
I swallow, and my throat is dry.
Anabelle is staring at me again. But this time there’s something in her eyes that I’ve never seen before.
Respect.
Why is she looking at me like that? It was only a Gatorade. Not a kidney. I don’t need her to be impressed by me. I walk away toward my chair, but someone is behind me. I turn, and Anabelle is following me.
“That was really nice of you to share your drink like that,” she says.
I shrug. “It was no big deal.”
But she continues talking. “You’re a lot nicer than you want people to believe, aren’t you?”
I narrow my eyes. “Are you going to tell all your friends now?”
She smiles, clearly enjoying this way too much. “I might.”
I try to ignore how her smile turns my insides warm. “Well, don’t go spreading lies,” I say and continue to walk to my chair to signal the conversation is over.
But she follows me again, and Nolan is with her now.
“My mom doesn’t lie,” Nolan says.
“He’s right. I don’t.” She smirks.
“Plus, I already told her you’re nicer than you act,” Nolan says, grinning like he’s won the upper hand.
I groan. “You what ?” This is only making it worse and worse. The last thing I want is to be known as some big softie.
“It’s not a bad thing, Lucas,” Anabelle says. “Just embrace it.”
Now she’s teasing me. “Maybe you should stop smiling so much all the time. There’s no need to be overly happy,” I say.
She puts her hands on her hips. “You really are a big old storm cloud. What’s your problem, anyway?” she probes. “Daddy issues?”
Actually, yes. Not that I’d tell her that. “Very funny.” When your dad walks out on you as a kid, it tends to mess you up.
“Or is it a bad breakup?” she pushes. “Did you have the love of your life dump you?”
When she stands this close, each individual eyelash is visible, and it’s clear how long and full her lashes are. “Are you trying to be my therapist?” I ask.
“Do you need therapy?” she inquires, her mouth quirking at the edges.
I puff out my chest. “Do you?”
She shrugs. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“So, is that a yes?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “What are you hiding, anyway?”
“What makes you say I’m hiding something?” I ask.
She throws her hands up in the air. “Because you’re so closed off.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being an introvert.”
Aubrey walks up to us, her red hair up in a messy bun. She’s waving both her arms up and down in an exaggerated motion.
“What are you doing?” Anabelle asks.
“Isn’t it obvious?” She grins. “I’m fanning you.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Why?”
“Because it’s getting a little too hot over here, and I figured you needed to be cooled off before you both burst into flames.”
“What?” I scoff.
Anabelle rolls her eyes. “You’re absolutely hilarious, Aubrey. We’re dying of laughter over here.”
Aubrey wrinkles her nose at her. “That’s what you get for talking to my mom about Sean.”
“Who’s that?” I usually mind my own business, but Aubrey just mocked me, so I’m a little more invested than normal.
Anabelle smiles like she’s more than happy to fill me in on the details. “He’s her new man. Or very soon will be. She cooked for him and everything.” She turns to Aubrey. “I didn’t tell your mom. She already knew from Sully’s mom. We’ve covered this.”
“Maybe you didn’t tell my mom, but you’re clearly fine with telling your man.”
“He’s not?—”
“Or very soon will be,” Aubrey says, cutting her off.
Anabelle’s face turns bright red. “You little . . .”
“Mom!” Nolan runs up to us. “Did you see me? I just blocked three balls from getting in my goal.”
Anabelle’s red face turns ashen. “Oh, that’s great, buddy.”
His face falls. “You didn’t see it, did you?” He looks over at me next. “Did you at least see me?”
My stomach drops. I’m the worst at this mentor thing. Here I am talking to his mom when I should be doing my job.
Nolan kicks his shoe into the ground, shoulders slumped.
My heart speeds up. I need to do something fast. “Why don’t you tell me how it happened?”
His eyes light up, and then he launches a long explanation of what has happened. When he finishes, he grabs his Gatorade and downs what’s left of it. I give him a few pointers, and then he runs back to the field to finish the game.
Aubrey and Anabelle are holding a heated discussion. I’ll not presume it’s about me, but they’ve looked over in my direction about four times since I’ve been talking to Nolan. Whatever that means.
I’m focusing on the game and doing my best to ignore them. But I won’t lie. They’re a bit distracting. I call out instructions to Nolan for the rest of the game, and right as the game finishes, Anabelle comes over to me with Aubrey.
“Hey, I wanted to apologize for distracting you from mentoring Nolan. I know you guys have important work to do, and I feel like such a bad mom for getting in the way like that.”
Literally, the last thing I expected her to say, and strangely, I’m touched. I can’t help it, but the kid is growing on me a bit. Maybe even his mom, too.
“You’re fine,” I say.
She looks at me like she’s expecting me to say something else.
I clear my throat. “You weren’t in the way. He played better with you there.”
Her eyes widen a little, like she wasn’t expecting that.
Then she nods and turns back to Aubrey.
Aubrey takes her hand, and they step away from me. “Have you come up with any more ideas of how you could get the shop out of the red?” Aubrey asks Anabelle.
“I have my loan payment coming up next week, and I’m not sure I can cover it this month,” Anabelle admits.
They do realize I can hear them, right?
I remember how packed her shop looked earlier. Cozy, sure, but it felt like a dozen businesses stuffed into one room.
Not that I care. Just . . . objectively, that can’t be good for sales.
“Girl, this is getting real,” Aubrey says. “If you don’t make that payment, you could destroy your credit.”
Anabelle wrinkles her brow, and I have the sudden desire to run my thumb across her forehead and smooth it out. “I know. This is why I don’t sleep at night.”
Why am I picturing her wrapped up in her blankets, tossing and turning? Not something I should be thinking about. But for some inexplicable reason, I can’t stand the thought of this woman struggling. Or Nolan not being provided for. I barely know her. I shouldn’t care this much.
But I do.
“Why don’t you run a weekend sale?” I blurt, loud enough for them to hear.
They both turn to look at me, surprise etched on their faces, like I’m the last person they expect to give advice about a little boutique.
“Run a buy one, get one half-off sale on slow sellers,” I advise.
“That’s . . . actually really smart,” Anabelle says.
“It’s all a matter of marketing.”
I rub the back of my neck, wishing I hadn’t said anything. Too late now.
“How do you know all this?” she asks, eyeing me suspiciously.
“I just do.” I smile at her.
“Right,” she says, turning to Aubrey. “He has nothing to hide.”
“I don’t know why I opened my mouth,” I mutter. “Note to self: never be helpful again.”
Nolan crashes into us like a human cannonball, and I gladly turn to him. He’s way less intense than these two.
“Great game, Nolan.” I tell him. “You had some really strong blocks. Next time we get together, we’re going to work on your form. I have some tricks I want to teach you.”
“Thanks, Lucas.” He turns to his mom. “Can we get ice cream now?”
“Sure,” Anabelle says.
Aubrey chirps, “Why don’t we all go? Lucas, you coming?”
“No, I’d . . .”
Nolan gives me this hopeful look with those big eyes of his.
Sigh. “I mean, sure.”
Anabelle needs to wipe that amused look off her face or so help me . . .
Aubrey puts her arms around Anabelle and me. “Well, isn’t this just cozy?”
“Oh, yeah. Just cozy,” I say sarcastically.
She squeezes us into her sides. “I could get used to this. Anabelle, isn’t it fun to bring him along?”
“Yes, a blast,” she says sweetly from the other side of Aubrey.
“Yeah!” Nolan says. “Can I get three scoops of ice cream, Mom?”
“You can’t even finish two,” Anabelle points out as we walk together toward the car.
“I’d say the boy’s earned it,” I say a little too quickly.
Where did that come from?
“Aww, that’s the cutest! He’s standing up for Nolan,” Aubrey gushes.
Well, that backfired.
I was just trying to keep the kid from sulking, but now they’re all looking at me like I’m soft. Even worse, Anabelle is beaming, like really beaming, as though I did something good, and I don’t know what to do with that.
Not when I’ve been trying so hard not to get attached.