14. A Joke
A JOKE
Oliver
One solid week.
That was how long it’d been since I watched her storm away from me and flirt with the coach. I wasn’t even sure why it bothered me the way it did, but I was really damn bothered by it.
“How was Hudson’s last practice with Beck?” Theo asked. He was seated across from me, his voice clear above the country music thumping through the speakers of The Raven.
“It was good. Hudson seems ready for the try-outs already, and he still has another camp to do. But he’s eager to learn. Beck said it’s a good quality for him to have, especially going in,” I replied, sipping the now-lukewarm beer in my hand.
Theo smiled. “Hell yeah! That’s my nephew. Beck is a cool guy. I was pumped when Hudson said he was coaching him. He assists on the teams, too, so hopefully they’ll be paired up again after the camps are finished.”
I nodded, unsure of what else to say.
Beckett was great. Solid with my kid, patient, outgoing, tough when needed but kind when not. He was everything a parent wanted in someone teaching their children, and he was everything a kid would want in a coach.
But his stupid surfer hair annoyed me. He needed a haircut and a lesson on professionalism. Lesson number one. You don’t flirt with your students’…well whatever you’d call her.
Rowan chuckled from beside me. “Heard you were a bit grumpy at practice last week.”
I glared at him but said nothing about it.
“I’m getting another beer,” I muttered as I stood and walked over to find Damien.
His dark eyes stared at me, a brow raised. I hadn’t seen him since his boxing match over the weekend where he crushed his opponent in minutes, even though the guy had twenty pounds on him, easy.
“You look a bit grumpy tonight. This isn’t still about—” he began, but I cut him off, handing him my warm beer to toss out.
“Not talking about this. It doesn’t matter. I was just being stupid, and you gave me too much liquor, forcing me to talk about my feelings. Can I just get another beer? Preferably without the therapy session?”
He held up his hands in a mock innocence movement, as if he was prepared to pull out the notepad, reading glasses, and pen to tell me about how my problems were of my own making, and I could move on from my dead wife after all these years without feelings of fear and remorse.
He’d tell me that maybe accepting that I was allowed to let go of the past would stop the reoccurring nightmares of Emily screaming at me, only to become Ivy standing in the middle of my kitchen.
“Cold beer. This time, try drinking it instead of watching a certain someone dance,” he said, thankfully low enough for only our ears.
Shaking my head, I grabbed the cold glass bottle from him.
“I’m never confiding in you again,” I muttered.
“Yeah, I hear ya, old man. You will, though. Oh, and maybe be a little kinder to her? I heard her hours got cut down at The Roadhouse and she’s trying to find another job to help the ex pay bills in the apartment she’s barely even in anymore,” Damien explained as if this was casual news and not the shit I’d go back at that fucker’s windshield for again.
“I’m sorry, come again?”
Damien nodded. “Yeah, figured you didn’t know. She’s got a lot going on, so maybe cut down on the grumpy old man routine.”
“How do you even know this? She comin’ to therapy with you too?” I questioned, the jealous tone something I wasn’t accustomed to.
He smirked, thankfully not pointing it out. “I have my sources. I do talk to people, and no. She doesn’t come to therapy at the gym. Thankfully for my energy levels and free time, that’s reserved for just you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Gee, thanks. Make a man feel all special on the inside.”
“Anything for you, pookie,” Damien said with a chuckle. “But really. Be nice to the woman.”
“I’ll do my best,” I grumbled.
Clutching my beer, I walked back over towards my family’s table, only to find the woman herself seated in my spot.
She was sitting on the edge of the seat, her eyes bright and her long hair pulled up into a ponytail now. Blue jeans with a black crop top and an oversized light brown button-up that she’d left undone had her looking just as stunning as ever.
As I approached, she glanced up, our eyes meeting as her words stuttered to a stop. She’d been telling Aspen and Ember about something, but I hadn’t been listening closely enough to catch anything she’d been saying. I’d been too damn busy staring at her on the walk over here.
“Oh, I can move, Oliver!” she yelled over the music. “I’m going back out, anyway.”
She shuffled over the chairs, walking towards me as I stood between her and the dance floor.
“Dance with me.”
The words were crazy. The thought hadn’t missed me, nor had the feeling of our entire group’s eyes staring at my outstretched hand, but my eyes were solely on her.
“What?” she questioned, the word coming out soft and unsure, but I wasn’t taking no for an answer right now.
“You heard me. Let’s go,” I replied confidently.
Stepping forward, I took her hand in mine. Handing my beer off to Rowan, I tugged her out onto the dance floor without another thought. She was against my chest, my other hand along her bare lower back, and hers to my shoulder.
I tried not to think about how warm her skin was. How soft and graceful she felt beneath my fingertips.
We were silent for a few beats, but of course, silence didn’t mesh well with Ivy.
“The last time we did this I fell asleep on you and called you Daddy,” she mumbled with a nervous laugh.
I swallowed down any and all thoughts around the fucking word from her lips again and nodded instead.
“I wanted to talk to you,” I finally said.
Her eyes raised to meet mine, a delicate brow raised.
“Oh?”
Clearing my throat, I nodded. “Yes. I was curious if your offer to help me with Hudson’s schedule was still on the table.”
I knew my question caught her off guard, but she didn’t let it show. Her eyes dropped back down, staring at my chest as we spun around the dance floor.
It’d been years since I’d danced, but with her it felt natural. As if she’d been in my arms forever.
A dangerous feeling.
“I’m not sure. I picked up some skating stuff with the kids twice a week thanks to Beck. What would you need from me?” she asked, her bright eyes returning to mine, and a look of determination to match.
So that was what she’d been talking to Beck about—suddenly I felt like an idiot for thinking it was anything more.
She had a damn boyfriend, after all. But the question she posed had my mind doing backflips, wanting to spill everything I needed from her.
I needed her to stop haunting my dreams, for starters.
I needed her to stop uttering the word Daddy.
But I couldn’t head down that road right now.
We were going to keep things professional. If I couldn’t escape Ivy Tinsley in life, I’d set strong professional boundaries that I’d have no choice but to follow.
“His spring camp starts in a few weeks. It’s twice a week.
Then the summer camp is after that one, still twice a week,” I explained, watching her nod slowly.
“You were right the other day at practice. This season is going to be hectic, and as much as I’d love to be able to do it all, I can’t.
Rowan will be busy with me, and Aspen confirmed her school schedule is hectic as hell when mixed with her art.
Stressing over who in the family is free what evening is stupid when I have someone next door able to help. ”
I bit back the words that I knew she needed the money. The last thing she needed was my pity, and I wasn’t aiming to give it to her when I did genuinely need the help.
“I’d pay you, obviously, and I have an extra room if you ever need to stay overnight or anything.”
She smirked. “Are you asking me to move in with you, Oliver Carragan?”
“What? No! I’m just—” I began stumbling over my words, but as the song ended and we slowed to a stop, she just smiled up at me.
“Just a joke, Oliver. I’m okay where I’m at. But I’d love to help with Sunny whenever you need me. Just text me the schedule, and I’ll let you know for sure that I can make it work.”
I felt myself nodding, though when she took a step away from me, the smile still on her face, it felt like my very soul was leaving with her.