The plan is for me to start coaching full time next fall and teach my own classes, but I’m starting to have my doubts about whether I can do it.
Before I was a single dad, my school and my athletes were my everything. I got up early, my head swimming with ideas and inspiration. Conditioning plans and drills excited me. I watched hours of game footage and practice tapes and rehearsed the pep talks I’d give the kids before games.
Now, I’m a full-time coach in a job that never ends. It’s not that I don’t still love sports, but whenever I think about throwing my whole heart and soul into anything new, I feel exhausted. Drained. It’s not just doing this without a partner, although that’s definitely part of it.
Moving to Star Falls was supposed to jump-start my return to reality, but I realize now that the change of scenery has only made me question myself and everything I’ve chosen even more deeply.
As I’m reviewing the instructions left for me by the teacher who’s out sick, I feel a buzz from my phone.
Finally coming up for some air. I have tomorrow completely off. No clients, no sketching. I can literally unplug and maybe drag my favorite high school teacher away for a lunch break. Is that a thing? Can you get away for a few minutes tomorrow?
Gracie’s first real day off since The Body Shop flooded and she wants to spend it with me.
Heat travels through my belly as I think about what we could do with a few unsupervised hours during the day. Before I reply, I check my schedule for tomorrow. I’m scheduled to teach PE and to cover a study hall for a teacher with a planned absence.
Fuck.
After dropping Cora off at day care, I make it to school by nine. Even with a part-time schedule, I have to work enough hours per week to be eligible for union benefits and everything else. I just can’t leave campus for a lunch break that easily.
I hate to have to tell her no. I don’t want to tell her no. But, yet again, fate doesn’t seem to want to make anything easy.
* * *
That night,after I put the kids to bed, I text Gracie to see if she’s up for a video chat. She replies right away.
Just home from work and about to shower. Can you give me fifteen mins? I’ll be quick. I don’t want to keep you up too late, Coach.
She follows up the message with a little shower emoji and a winky face. I send her back a thumbs-up and then settle back into bed with a bottle of water as I scroll through some job listings, feeling a little lost and a lot frustrated.
If I leave teaching, I have no clue what else I would do. I must lose track of time because before I realize how long I’ve been scrolling, Gracie calls.
I pick up on the first ring.
“Hey,” I say, letting the first real smile take over my face.
She immediately looks serious. “You okay? You look tired or mad. Tell me what this is I’m seeing.” She motions at the screen.
“Yeah,” I chuckle. “Annoying thoughts in my head. I’m a lot better now, though. How are you? I’m really sorry I can’t meet you tomorrow.”
She lifts a brow at me and gives me that skeptical look I love so much. “You’re deflecting,” she accuses. “No deflecting. What’s going on?”
I sigh. “I feel like I’ve lost interest in teaching,” I admit. “It’s all I’ve been trained to do, but somehow, it’s different now. It’s not like before.”
“Before,” she says gently. “Before you lost your wife?”
I don’t want her to think this is all about Elizabeth because, really, it’s not. “Sort of,” I explain. “Before we had kids, mostly. Now, the idea of spending all day every day taking care of someone else’s kids…even as a job…” I rub my face and groan. “I don’t know. I’m not making any sense. I’m rambling.”
“You do make sense,” she says. She adjusts her camera view, and I can see she’s wearing a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off and the collar cut to be much wider. The thin fabric slips off her shoulders and past her collarbone. She must see where my eyes are because she points a finger at me. “Hey, eyes up here, sexy.”
“Busted,” I say. “Sorry. But in my defense, have you seen yourself?”
She grins and rolls her shoulders back, so her cleavage is even more pronounced.
“You don’t play fair.”
“How about this?” she says. “You talk for three whole minutes about what’s going on, no deflecting, no excuses, and I’ll reward you.”
A wicked grin claims my lips. “What’s my reward?” My dick is already semi-hard just imagining what she wants to share.
