Chapter 10
RACHEL
The best part about youth sports in small towns? The cozy, laid-back vibes that come with hauling out your favorite lawn chair and setting up a spot on the edge of the field in preparation for relaxing and sipping copious amounts of coffee from an oversized travel mug.
The worst part? Finding yourself stuck sitting just a few lawn chairs down from your soon-to-be ex-husband and his new girlfriend.
Or should I say old girlfriend?
New old girlfriend?
Ugh.
It’s Mason’s first game of the season, so of course they’re here. I knew they would be. But being mentally prepared doesn’t always spill over into being physically prepared. Case in point, the shaky restlessness that’s plagued me since I arrived fifteen minutes ago.
I haven’t touched my coffee yet, so I can’t blame the jitters on caffeine.
Then again, maybe it isn’t Craig’s and Cady’s presence that has me off-kilter…
Maybe the blame lies with the cute coach in cargo shorts, a black tank top, and a backward ball cap.
Jinx and I haven’t talked much over the past couple of weeks other than a quick hello or goodbye when he picks up and drops off Mason for work and for practice.
The last real conversation we had was when he found Emma at the Kaminskis’ and we shared a short heart-to-heart with her in the driveway before I took her home and snuggled with her on the couch while making her promise she’d never pull that kind of stunt again. I was seconds away from dialing 911 when she called from Jinx’s phone and burst into tears.
And to think she’s the kid I was least worried about. She’s never complained about going back and forth for visits. She’s never cried about missing me. She’s certainly never said a word to me about feeling disconnected from Craig.
But she shared all of that with Jinx.
And he listened.
To my little girl.
When he could have just as easily called me or Craig and saved himself from the drama of it all.
My heart aches every time I think about it.
If I didn’t already have a little crush on him, I would now. It takes a special kind of man to treat a child with care and respect like that.
“Hey, babes!” Crystal plops a chair down beside me, startling me out of my thoughts. “Did we miss anything?”
“Nope, not yet. The first quarter is almost over, but no scores.”
Her husband Tony joins her a minute later, his chair in one hand and a tray of coffees from Bobbie Jean’s in the other. “I come bearing gifts,” he says, offering me the tray.
“Oh, Tony.” I accept the whole tray and put it on my lap so he can set up his chair. “You know the way to a girl’s heart, don’t you?” I already have a drink, but I will never pass up an iced chai.
“I gotchu, Rach.” He winks.
Crystal backhands him across the stomach, forcing an umph from him. “Don’t let him bullshit you. He almost got you an Americano. It’s me who loves you, babes.” She blows me a kiss.
Tony grunts and takes a seat. “You two are so weird.”
“Don’t be jealous.” Crystal gets situated in her chair and bats her lashes at him. “There’s nothing wrong with lady love.”
He cocks a brow, the wheels turning in his head as he smirks.
“Good lord,” Crystal scoffs. “Not that kind of love. Get yourself right.”
I laugh and take my drink from the caddy before passing it to her. “I seriously love you both. Thank you.”
“Anything for my bestie.” She peers around me and wrinkles up her nose, clearly catching sight of Craig down the way. “Ugh. Really?”
“At least he’s here.”
“Yeah.” She straightens the lid of her coffee and sits back. “But he could have come alone.”
“It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last.” We’ve been avoiding each other at Emma’s softball games for weeks now.
And that’s what I continue to do. I successfully put them out of my mind, too, until the middle of the third quarter when a scuffle breaks out on the field.
My stomach drops when number 34 rolls another kid over on the grass. Mason pushes to his feet, using the kid as leverage a little too aggressively. To be fair, the other kid was the one who pulled Mason to the ground by his face mask in the first place. The frustration is warranted. However, the way he reacts when the other kid jumps up and shoves him isn’t.
Mason shoves him back without hesitation and knocks the kid on his ass. His teammates laugh, and a whole group of boys from the other team steps out onto the field, as if they’re going to rush Mason in defense of their friend. The refs, bless them, blow their whistles again and insert themselves between the kids before anyone can get hurt.
Dalton and Jinx rush onto the field, too, and herd our players toward the sideline for a much-needed timeout.
“Little punk deserved it,” Craig hollers. “Where’s the flag for that face mask, huh?”
My stomach sinks and my face flames at his outburst. Oh my god, shut up.
He heaves himself out of his chair, but he only makes it one step toward the bench before Cady jumps up and grabs him by the back of his shirt.
Kudos to her for that, at least.
“Sit down,” she says sharply, pointing at Craig’s chair. “Let the coaches deal with it.”
“It’s bullshit,” he grumbles. “Mason should’ve laid that kid out.”
I clench my jaw and bite my tongue. I don’t mind that Mason defended himself, but taking things further than he did would have been uncalled for. Also, this is youth football, not the pros. The refs are high school kids, not seasoned vets. They’re going to make mistakes.
Jinx pulls Mason aside while Dalton tries to calm the rest of the team down. Dalton has to speak loudly to be heard over the chatter as he reminds the boys to play with good sportsmanship. Jinx’s words to my son, on the other hand, are inaudible. From the look on Mason’s face—his red, enraged face—he’s still pumped up. But Jinx’s expression is calm, mollifying.
As the seconds tick by and Jinx continues, Mason’s shoulders begin to relax. The nod he gives Jinx and the thoughtful expression that crosses his face loosen the knots in my stomach.
Finally, Jinx smiles and grabs Mason’s shoulder pad, giving it a little jostle. My son gives a small smile, too, and then Jinx wraps an arm around his shoulders for a side hug that has emotion immediately burning in my eyes.
It’s when Mason gives him a quick side hug in return that I have to call upon every ounce of self-control I possess to keep myself from jumping and rushing over to hug him myself.
Mason jogs back to the team and stops directly in front of Dalton, likely apologizing, given Dalton’s serious but accepting nod, and then sticks his helmet back on.
Jinx joins the rest of the team and quickly shifts back into game mode. But I’m still stuck on the interaction between him and Mason.
They’ve been working together for a couple of weeks now, on and off the football field, but until this moment, I hadn’t realized how close they’d grown. Mason hasn’t mentioned it, probably because he’s usually so tired by the time he gets home in the evenings that it’s all he can do to eat dinner and take a shower before he’s zonked out. But there is no doubt in my mind that Jinx is someone my son needs right now. A friend and a mentor. And a darn good role model.
Because that’s what he is. He may be a big goofball with a carefree reputation, but he is so much more than that.
He is amazing.
And I need to tell him that.
JINX
“First game of the season, and we’re off to a shitty start with the refs. You gonna do anything about that?” Craig demands when the game is finished and he’s approaching the bench.
Dalton looks up from his clipboard with a scowl. “What do you mean?”
“I counted at least a half dozen missed penalties, and that’s just against our team,” he adds, holding up six fingers to make his point. “That’s bullshit.”
“They’re high school kids, Craig. They’re learning just like these kids are.” Dalton gestures to the team.
“They’re not gonna learn if someone doesn’t tell them they’re missing shit left and right.”
For fuck’s sake, is this guy serious?
Dalton shakes his head but keeps his cool. “Let’s not do this in front of the kids, okay?”
Craig’s face turns red, and he fists his hands at his sides, like maybe he won’t drop it. Cady joins him, her expression patient, and says something to him that only seems to piss him off more.
That’s when I spot Rachel hanging back, watching but not getting involved. The way she’s lowered her head and is wringing her hands makes her look more embarrassed than anything. Not for the first time, I’m glad she and this asshole are no longer together.
Also, she looks really pretty today with her hair in a braid and a ball cap on her head.
She catches me watching her and gives me a small but genuine smile.
I take that as my cue to stroll over. “Hey. You gonna give us shit about the reffing, too?”
She rolls her eyes. “Not even a little. He’s so ridiculous.”
Down the field, he and Dalton are still “discussing” the matter, but Dalton’s at least got him pulled away from the kids.
“Mason handled that hit better than I would have,” I say, returning my attention to her. “He kept his temper in check, though it was a little touch and go for a few seconds.”
She laughs softly. “I noticed that. Thank you for calming him down.”
I shrug. “Didn’t take much.”
She studies me for a second before she glances away almost nervously. “Mason has a lot of respect for you,” she says.
Good. I’ve been intentional about fostering that. The kid makes it easy for the most part, but I still make a concerted effort to keep our time together positive. He’s got enough shit to deal with, and more than anything, I want him to know he’s got someone on his side.
“He’s a good kid,” I tell her.
He wouldn’t be that way if it weren’t for her. I’m sure there’s plenty of Craig in him, too. Hell, his temper is obviously his father’s. But he’s got a big heart, and he puts his all into everything. That’s Rachel, through and through.
“You taught him well.” I nudge her arm playfully.
She smiles. “Well, I am a professional in that regard.”
I laugh. “That’s true.”
“Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I saw you talking to him, and I really appreciate that.”
I nod. I didn’t do it for her, but I won’t pretend that I don’t like that she noticed. We may not have gotten off on the right foot with her kissing me and me having to reject her—and then me showing up and essentially trespassing to help her out—but she doesn’t seem to hate me for any of it.
Now, if she’d only try to kiss me again…
This time, I’d do things a little differently.
This time, I wouldn’t just kiss her back…
I’d take her fucking breath away.