He hangs on my every word, and that’s how the day progresses.
By the end of the night, I’m drenched in sweat, my hoodie smells like a locker room exploded, and my cheeks hurt from smiling.
As the kids trickle out, giving me high fives and calling, “Bye, CJ!”I feel this weird twist in my chest.The good kind.The kind I usually only get on the ice.
Olivia walks over, arms crossed.She studies me for a long second.“You were… decent today,” she admits reluctantly.
I put a hand over my heart.“Careful, Olivia Walker.Compliments like that go straight to my head.”
She shakes her head, but there’s a ghost of a smile.“Don’t get used to it.You’ve got a long way to go.”
I lean closer, lowering my voice.“Good thing I’ve got three days a week to win you over.”
Her eyes snap to mine, sharp and warning, but I don’t miss the flicker of color in her cheeks.
“Win the kids over,” she corrects.
“Sure,” I say easily, tugging at the disgusting pinnie.“But I’m a goalie, Liv.We play the long game.Now, I’m starving.Why don’t we go grab something to eat?”
She doesn’t respond, just turns and walks away, but I see her look back at me before she turns the corner.
Yeah, she’s as into me as I am into her.
Now I just need to figure out a way to get her to admit it.
FOUR
Olivia
There are good emails and bad emails.The good ones have subject lines likeApproved FundingorDonation Received.They arrive like small miracles, proof that the hustle is worth it.
The bad ones… well, the one currently glaring from my inbox is titledNotice of Delinquent Utilities.
I close the laptop before the weight of it settles on my shoulders.It’s not like staring at it will make the numbers rearrange themselves into something I can afford.
The gym hums on the other side of the office wall.Kids arguing over foosball.A basketball thumping.Someone is giggling so hard they hiccup.That messy chorus of safe chaos keeps me moving when my body wants to collapse.
It’s also why I don’t turn CJ Morgan away when he taps lightly on my open door.
“Hey, Boss,” he says, leaning a shoulder on the frame.His cap is backward, hair curling around the edges, grin cocky as always, but his eyes… there’s something deliberate there.Calculating, like he’s actually thought about what he’s about to say.
I narrow mine.“You’re early again.Should I be suspicious?”
“I told you, I’m a changed man.”He pushes off the frame and steps in.“Or at least… changing.”
“That’s encouraging,” I say dryly.
He flops into the chair across from me without asking.Typical.But instead of his usual jokes, he leans forward, forearms on his knees, all fake swagger dropped.“What’s wrong?”
I blink, surprised he can read me so well and see that I’m upset.
Do I tell him?
“I can’t lose this place,” I blurt out.
He leans back in his chair.“Is it that bad?”he asks quietly.
“Yeah,” I choke out.“God,” I swipe at my eyes, brushing away the stray tears.“Opening this youth center has been my dream since I was a kid.There was one when I was growing up in Maple Creek, but it closed when I was fourteen, right when I needed it the most.”
