Chapter 14
fourteen
RYAN
Waffle House is exactly the same as it’s always been, with crowded booths and a few stools at the bar facing the kitchen.
No matter how broke I was as a kid, I could usually afford a cup of coffee and a plate of hash browns.
I’ve been meeting Coach T here since before my parents split up, before my mom walked out and left us alone, before I tried to make it on my own, before being placed with the coach.
He’s a man who knows everything about me. All the messy, ugly bits. Still shows up when I call. There’s something priceless in that.
He’s the only man who ever looked at me like I wasn’t broken. Like maybe I could become someone. When I was a kid, Coach T treated me with a firm respect that resonates with me to this day. Even now, part of me wants him to fix it, to tell me what the hell to do.
He slides into the booth across from me and inhales. “Smells good in here.”
The scent of fried bacon and fresh coffee hangs thick in the air. It’s all familiar. Too familiar, really. I hate how much I need that right now.
Last night, I walked away from her. Because staying? Letting myself have what I wanted? That would’ve wrecked me. Hell, it already has.
I sip my coffee just as the waitress comes over for our order. She tops off Coach’s mug, then hurries off to the line cook, calling it in.
Coach sips and gives me a once-over. “Well, you look terrible. What happened to you?”
“Thanks,” I say sarcastically. I know Coach T hates sarcasm, so I try to pivot. “You still mad about that offsides call last week?”
He grunts. “It was bullshit. But you know what else is bullshit? You trying to bait and switch. I asked you here to talk.”
I’ve always been good at pivoting. When I was a kid, I learned fast that if you change the subject fast enough, people stop asking about bruises or empty cupboards.
I shake my head and try to deflect. “Is it the hockey team? The league giving you problems?”
Yes. Let’s talk about that. Let’s talk about anything other than the girl I almost kissed and definitely can’t stop thinking about.
I press my lips together and sigh. “No. I’m doing a side gig of sorts. I got a call from The Last Kiss reality TV show. They wanted me to be the bachelor this season. Offered a nice chunk of change, so I’m filming the show during the summer break.”
His brows go up. “I didn’t know you were doing that. Isn’t that a lot of stress?”
I wave away his concern. “It’s really not stressful. It’s just… you know. I’m supposedly dating all these women. They’re all driving me nuts.”
I pause and stare into my coffee mug. “Jay’s little sister is on the show, too. One of the bachelorettes.”
Just saying it makes something twist inside me. She’s not supposed to be here. Not in my space. Not tangled up in my head.
Coach knows who Jay is. Jay does a lot of charity work with middle and high school hockey teams, so Coach just bobs his head. “You don’t get along with that girl, if I remember correctly.”
“She’s always been a thorn in my side. Sharp, sarcastic, impossible. Now we’re on the show together. There are cameras. There are dates.”
Wren herself. All sharp edges and soft eyes. She sees too much. Feels too much. She’s everything I avoid, wrapped in the one person I can’t push away.
I hesitate. “The other night… I sort of kissed her.”
Even saying it aloud feels dangerous. Like I’m naming something that shouldn’t exist. Coach’s silence is heavy. Not judging. Just waiting.
Coach raises an eyebrow. “For the cameras?”
It started that way. Or maybe it didn’t. Hell, I don’t know anymore. She messes with my head. I can’t see straight when she’s around.
I slowly shake my head. “No. Off camera.”
“And she wanted you to kiss her?”
I think about the way Wren looked at me, how her fingers curled in my shirt and pulled me closer.
“Yeah,” I say eventually. “I’m pretty sure she was into it.”
“Well, you’re a big boy. You’re a grown man. You know what you’re doing. Just be careful. You don’t want to mess around with her and break her heart. She’s Jay’s little sister. He’ll probably kick your ass if you do.”
It stings more than it should. Not because he’s wrong. But because he’s right. Because I don’t know if I could stop myself even if I wanted to.
“Yeah. I know. I’m handling it. I think,” I lie.
Coach nods slowly, thoughtful. Then he changes the subject. It’s like he can feel how close I’m getting to saying too much.
“How’s the money?”
I tense. I don’t like talking about this. Not even with him. Money always makes things weird. But I’m not going to lie to Coach. He knows me. He’s probably the only person who can understand.
“I’ve got like two million on hand.”
The waitress appears suddenly with our breakfast. Steak and eggs for both of us, fulfilling the ritual. I pick up my fork and knife and point them at the steak.
“I’ve got about twenty million invested in low index funds,” I add.
I still check my bank app every night. I still wake up sweating from dreams where the money’s gone and Ellie’s little again, crying because we’re out of cereal.
I can’t stop running from that version of my life.
I finish with, “But I still feel like it’s not enough. ”
Coach takes a bite of his toast and asks, “Not enough for what, exactly?”
I sigh. “I don’t know. For Ellie. For me.
For everything. What if my career ends tomorrow?
What if I can’t get another sponsorship deal?
I thought if I had five million, I’d feel safe.
Then I thought another five, or another ten would do it.
But it turns out I always worry. What if I make a terrible mistake and my hard work vanishes overnight? ”
Coach doesn’t look up from his steak as he cuts it into careful pieces.
“You’ve done more than enough, son. You should feel secure at this point.”
“I don’t know if there is any ‘feeling secure.’ Something can always happen.”
He’s quiet for a beat. Then gently, he says, “You can’t control everything, Ryan. You can try, but someday something’s gonna hit you sideways. It won’t matter how much money you’ve got saved.”
That’s the only way I’ve survived. Controlling everything. My image. My game. My goddamn feelings. Especially the ones that wear eyeliner and call me an asshole with a mouth like honey and venom.
His words piss me off more than I want to admit. I hate when he’s right.
“Let’s change the subject,” I say. “Tell me about your Little League team. How’s that going?”
His eyes light up. Coach T isn’t the most talkative person. He’s never been that way. But he’s animated when he talks about the types of players he’s working with and his plans for them.
He carries most of the conversation while I demolish my steak and eggs. Then I push the plate away, toast untouched.
He snags my toast and smiles. “I love Waffle House toast. I don’t know what kind of bread they use, but it’s so buttery and crisp. Always perfect.”
It’s an important part of the ritual. Meeting for lunch here.
I smile as I get out of the booth and pull out my wallet. “I should go. Gotta get some shut eye. I have an elimination tomorrow on the reality show. Have to send two girls home.”
He eyes me carefully. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m good.”
I pick up the check and he looks at me, pinning me in place with his gaze.
“Ryan,” he warns.
I shake my head. “Are you kidding? You took me and Ellie in when we were kids. Paid for meals and hockey and Ellie’s ballet. I can certainly cover one little meal after you raised a hockey superstar.”
He looks like he wants to argue but lets it go.
I go up to the register and pay, then we walk out of the Waffle House together.
He stops by his car and looks me up and down. “You know you can always call me, right?”
I nod.
He claps a hand on my shoulder. “I love you, kid.”
I freeze. Those three words are sacred. Dangerous. The last time I said them, my mother left and never came back. I can’t risk putting them on anyone else’s shoulders.
It’s not that I don’t want to say it back. I love Coach. I try to make it obvious through my actions. But that word is only for Ellie. No one but my little sister gets to hear it come out of my mouth.
So I just nod again. “Thanks, Coach.”
He squeezes my shoulder and then lets me go.
I head for my car and get in . My stomach is in a knot. My chest is tight. I feel worse than I did before lunch.
But I can’t afford to fall apart. Not now. Not ever.
The late afternoon shoot is set at what’s supposed to look like a fancy spa.
There’s a large Jacuzzi bubbling on the left with steam curling into the air.
A cold plunge pool is on the right. The backdrop is a spa-type thing, all polished wood and soft lighting.
Wooden benches surround the pools on three sides.
Luckily, the set is warm, so when Rich suggests I hit the Jacuzzi shirtless, I only roll my eyes and toss my shirt to him. I tug a towel around my waist and start toward the water.
“Actually,” Rich says, stopping me. “I want you on the bench here. If you want in the Jacuzzi, you’ve got to do the Compatibility Plunge first.”
I sigh.
The producers are calling it the Compatibility Plunge. Cute. Rich hands me a stack of cards with messy handwriting. The girls wrote answers to personal prompts. I’m supposed to guess who said what.
If I guess right, we get in the hot tub together. If I guess wrong, the girl takes a plunge in the freezing water and has to answer a tough question on camera.
It’s classic reality show drama. I get it. It’s entertaining. But still, I take a breath and try to center myself.
The girls start coming out one by one, all wrapped in identical white silk robes. Bare legs, nervous smiles. I spot Wren clutching her sash like it personally offended her. She’s already glaring at the setup like she’s seconds away from dismantling the entire production with sheer force of will.
My mouth goes dry. I’ve seen what’s under that robe before. Bathing suits, beach days on Lake Lanier. But something feels different this time. Maybe it’s because I hadn’t kissed her then. Those were simpler times.
Now, I can’t stop thinking about how soft her lips felt against mine. I shift slightly on the bench, trying to get my head in the game.
Rich waves a cue card at me. “Let’s go, Romeo.”
Right. Showtime.
I’m unraveling. Slowly, silently. Because if I fall apart now, if I admit I care, then I’ve already lost.
And I can’t stand for that.