Chapter Ten #2
Kenzie remained in her usual spot on the bottom row of bleacher seats. She couldn’t help thinking that Oscar was right. She couldn’t turn worry off at will any more than she could keep her thoughts from straying to the people she cared about.
No one needed medical attention that day, which gave her mind and her eyes way too much time to wander.
Both her thoughts and her gaze kept straying to Finn.
It didn’t seem to matter how hard she tried not to think of him, not to look at him.
The moment she let down her guard, her attention swung right back where it wanted to be.
She missed him desperately, so desperately that she had started thinking the impossible, that she really would try again with a man…if that man was Finn Monahan.
But that was just a fantasy, she reminded herself.
Trusting a man wasn’t possible for her. Not anymore.
And Finn was partly to blame for that. Just because she understood why he’d left her all those years ago and actually believed it was the right thing to do at the time didn’t mean she’d forgotten the awful pain of losing him.
At home alone in bed that night with Ed and Tom curled up together at her side, Kenzie thought about what Lauren had said a while ago now—that any man who made Lauren consider giving him her trust would have to be something special.
Finn was just that, something special. He was also a grown man now, a man who’d said he was ready to take care of her and her baby. She’d believed him when he said it.
But she’d held firm to her plan to raise her baby on her own, not to give her trust to him again no matter how many ways he proved he was worthy of it.
It had hurt so much to send him away. She’d known, though, that she’d done the right thing.
Too bad that since then, doubt had crept in.
Honestly, who was she kidding?
She loved him. Sometimes she couldn’t help thinking that she’d loved him since he was hers in high school, that she’d lied to herself for fifteen years, even married another man. But what good had all that denial and a broken marriage to the wrong man done for her in the end?
No good at all. Because the whole time, she still loved Finn.
The hard truth was, she’d never stopped.
* * *
At practice the next day, the team seemed more determined, more cheerful. And more focused.
Finn got Barrett aside for a moment and asked him if he’d noticed the sudden change in the players.
“I’ve noticed,” Barrett replied.
Finn regarded the other man sharply. “I’m getting the feeling you know what’s going on here.”
“I do, Coach.” Barrett couldn’t hide his grin.
“Tell me.”
“Remy O’Dare, Darren Tuttle and Kevin Brown got permission to miss school today. The three of them drove to Billings and back.”
Finn got the picture then. Three of the team’s top players had made a special trip to St. Vincent Regional. “They visited Sean,” he said.
“Yes, they did. And they came straight back to school from there. They got here about an hour ago. Evidently, the grapevine still works. Just about everyone at Tenacity High knows now that Sean is feeling good, already getting stronger and determined to reclaim his spot on the team next fall. The news is turning out to be a real spirit-lifter.”
Finn scoffed. “I told them the same thing the other day after I went to visit him.”
Barrett shrugged. “Apparently, it means more coming from their teammates.”
Well, that was humbling. Finn muttered wryly, “Yeah. Probably so.”
They got back to work. Practice went well.
Except for how hard it was not to keep checking the first row of the bleachers, keep stealing glances at the woman in the maroon scrubs and barn jacket, her silvery gold hair in that heavy braid down her back.
Damn, she was beautiful. And he couldn’t stop wishing that something would change, that he would find a way to earn her trust again, that somehow, he still might make her his.
Finn was the last to leave the field after practice. When he got to his crew cab, he found Oscar waiting by the driver’s door.
“Hey, Oscar.” Finn forced a smile. “Need a ride home?”
“Thanks, Coach. But my dad will take me.” Oscar tipped his head toward the pickup waiting two rows away. Jesse Abernathy sat behind the wheel. He waved out the open driver’s-door window and Finn waved back.
Finn stuck his hands in the pockets of his team jacket and leaned back against his crew cab. “So what’s going on?”
Oscar mirrored him, hands in his pockets, eyes on the sky. “You’re a good coach. I like working with you.”
So…this was a testimonial? That seemed unlike Oscar. It was just too…touchy-feely. Oscar wasn’t much for emotional declarations of respect and admiration.
“Thank you, Oscar,” Finn replied. “We’re lucky to have you on staff.”
Oscar let out a hard huff of breath. “You’re a good coach. But you’re not so smart about some other things.”
Finn replied cautiously, “Like what?”
“You’re not happy. Nurse Osborne isn’t happy. Something went wrong for you guys.”
Finn had no clue how to respond. No way should he be discussing his feelings for Kenzie with a student. “Oscar, I—”
The boy put up a hand. “Not finished, Coach.”
“Uh, okay…”
“It all seems so simple. Being happy is better. Just tell her you love her. How hard can that be?”
“I—”
“That’s all.” Oscar opened and closed his hand. “Sometimes I just need to say what I’m thinking. You have a good night, Coach.” And with that, he turned on his heel and took off for the pickup waiting two rows away.
Finn watched him jog over there, heard the pickup door open and shut as the boy got in on the far side.
Jesse waved again. Finn raised his hand in a slow salute as they drove by him.
Then, for several minutes after that pickup had vanished from sight, Finn stared up at the star-thick sky and thought about what Oscar had said to him.
That night, Finn hardly slept at all. He kept seeing Kenzie’s beautiful face, the sadness in her eyes when he’d asked her to marry him.
The next morning he woke up exhausted. Even after three cups of coffee he still felt like crap. And the day ahead? Packed, as usual. He showed houses from nine to three.
At practice it was harder than ever not to constantly glance Kenzie’s way. More than once, she just happened to be looking at him when his gaze strayed to her.
It was heaven, that jolt of awareness when their eyes met.
It was also hell. He wanted to stare at her forever, but instead he made himself tear his gaze away. A few minutes later, he would sneak another look at her. Sometimes she was looking right back.
And sometimes she was staring anywhere but at him.
Three or four times his focus landed on Oscar, who either looked away like Kenzie did, or glared at him. Apparently, Oscar was getting pretty fed up with him at this point.
And Finn couldn’t blame the kid.
Oscar was right. Finn was miserable. And being happy was definitely preferable to the gray funk that served as his constant companion since Kenzie had turned him down five days ago.
Just tell her you love her.
Easy for Oscar to say. If Finn dared to try again, she would only turn him down a second time. He had no desire to beg for another rejection.
But how could getting turned down a second time be worse than not trying at all? At least if he tried again, he would have the consolation of knowing he’d done the best that he could.
Because the more he thought about the situation, the more he had to admit that Oscar was right—and not only about happiness being preferable to misery.
Last Saturday, Finn had failed to say the most important words. He’d gotten so wrapped up in telling her all that he would do for her that he’d totally forgotten to share what was in his heart.
Talk about an unforced error. He might not win her love by trying again. But at least he would get a second chance to say the words that mattered most.
He lingered after practice, hanging around in the gym until everyone had cleared out. A few minutes after that, he found himself standing in the empty parking lot alone, thinking about calling her, just whipping out his phone and asking her if she would let him come over.
He did pull the phone from his pocket. But he couldn’t quite work up the nerve to hit the call icon. He drove home instead.
At his house, he brought up her contact again.
And then he stood there by the kitchen island staring at her name, longing to hit call—but balking because if she said she didn’t want to see him, he would be done before he started.
Finally, after twenty minutes of waffling, he stuck the ring box in his jacket pocket, climbed back into his truck and returned to town.
The lights were on at her house. He parked at the curb, got out and marched up the front walk to the door.
When she pulled the door open, his heart stopped. Her hair was loose on her shoulders and she’d changed into joggers and a giant sweatshirt with Underestimate Me… That’ll Be Fun printed across her chest above the giant roundness of her baby bump.
He’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life as Kenzie standing in that open doorway, the light behind her creating a halo around all that white-gold hair.
“Hi,” he said, because he hadn’t summoned the forethought to think of something better. “Can I…come in?”
She studied his face. He waited for her to say Finn in a regretful, why-are-you-here? kind of way—or even go so far as to shut the door on him.
But a miracle happened. She stepped back and gestured him forward. He was over that threshold in an instant. She shut the door behind him as both Tom and Ed darted in from the dining room.
“Hey, guys.” They came right for him. He bent and scooped them up. Ed purred in his left ear, Tom in his right.
All of a sudden, he felt better about everything. Because, hey. She’d shut the door with him on the inside of it. And at least Tom and Ed seemed glad to see him.
As for Kenzie, who could tell? She just stood there watching him through wary eyes, no doubt waiting for him to get on with whatever he’d come here for.