Mel hadn’t tiptoed around the bruises my marriage left; she’d walked straight into my daily rhythm. She was already the person I caught myself checking on before bed. That sure hadn’t been in this season’s playbook.
I turned into my driveway, headlights catching the bumper of a car that could only be Sam’s. She was babysitting Cassy while Abby and Jeff went out on a date-slash-make-or-break talk. As Mel suggested, it ended up easy for my sister and Sam to set it up.
The house was quiet, dim. The hallway was lit faintly from the kitchen light. Sam sat at the table, laptop open, her fingers resting on the keys.
“Hey, Sean.”
“Hey. How’d it go? I hope Cassy behaved.”
“No worries. Cassy’s a breeze,” she said, closing the laptop and sliding it into her backpack. “We readGoodnight Moontwice because apparently I didn’t ‘do the old lady voice right’ the first time,” Sam chuckled.
I grinned. “Been there too. Thanks again, Sam. We really appreciate it.”
“Oh, there’s a Post-it under the lamp for her to find tomorrow. Said it’s from Dr. Sam.”
I smiled at that. “She’ll love it.”
Sam tilted her head, studying me with the same focus she probably used in the hospital. “Sorry about the loss.”
I shrugged. “Part of the job. But thanks.”
She offered a small wave as she walked to the door. “Later.”
“Night, Sam.”
I walked to Cassy’s door and peeked in. She was out cold, snuggled with Pitou. A small, bright pink plastic stethoscope glowed under the lamp. Small things like that made the house brighter than it had in years.
A smile stretched across my face. Sam had promised and delivered. The Boyd sisters were growing on me faster than my bike on an open road.
I headed to my office, reviewed game tape, took notes, shut the laptop, and rubbed my hand over my face. “We’ve gotta get ahead tomorrow,” I muttered before hitting the shower. The hot water didn’t fix the loss, but it slowed the loop in my head.
I sank into the bed, and right then my phone blinked.
A text lit the screen.
Ben:You coach a hell of a game. The guys won’t let you down. You’ve been here before and came on top. Clear answers with the press. They got what they needed.
I stared at that for a second. Ben handed me a backbone. He’d always known how to steady a ship, especially mine. I owed him one.
Me:Thanks, man. I still owe you a visit. I’ll come see how your boys’ drill team is holding up during the offseason.
I let my head fall back against the pillow. Losses were supposed to sit on your chest all night. Tonight, though, the tension behind my neck was gone. Mel had caught me off guard twice now—first in the car when she made me laugh, and again now when she cut through the noise. She didn’t settle for watching the game; she saw past the gum-chewing, wound-tight coach everyone else tolerated and looked for ways to patch thecracks. Talking with her left me lighter than I had any right to feel after a loss.
As soon as the last press conference question wrapped the following evening, I slipped out. I had a date, and the media wasn’t invited.
Mel was waiting in the empty VIP lobby near the vending machine.
She stood when she saw me, smiling. “Congrats on the win.”
“Thanks.” We walked out together.
“That’s a little grim for someone who just won a playoff game.”
My grin widened. She might not realize it, but this was our firstrealdate, and my pulse was pounding like I was a rookie again. I didn’t usually get nervous, except behind the bench. But tonight, it was her.
“You’re here. That counts more than any victory shout.” If that sounded un-Coach Murphy, blame the sudden onset of teenage giddiness.
When we slid into my car, I leaned into the headrest, letting her presence fill the space.
