Practice is brutal.
I run them hard. Drills until their legs shake. Scrimmages until they're gasping. Conditioning that makes Connor whine and Tyler threaten mutiny.
Through it all, Jessica watches.
She's set up at a folding table by the boards, laptop open, that ridiculous clipboard beside her. I catch glimpses between whistles. The furrow between her brows when she's concentrating. The way she mouths numbers to herself as she types. The flash of satisfaction when something clicks into place.
She's in her element. This is what she's good at. Not carpentry or clinic filing or dispatch work. This. Systems. People. Making chaos into order.
I blow the whistle. "Water break. Two minutes."
The boys flood toward the bench. Jessica's already there, handing out bottles, asking questions I can't quite hear.
I hang back and watch.
Danny Wheeler approaches her. The kid's fourteen, smallest on the team, hasn't scored a goal all season. He's got that look—shoulders hunched, eyes down. The look of someone expecting to be dismissed.
Jessica crouches to his level. Her hand rests on his arm. She says something that makes him lift his head. Something that makes him nod. Something that puts a spark in his eyes that wasn't there before.
My chest tightens.
This. This is what Callum tried to kill. Her ability to see people. To make them feel valued. To find the cracks and fill them with light instead of criticism.
She rises and catches me watching. Tilts her head.What?
I shake my head.Nothing.
Everything.
After practice, she pulls out cookies.
I don't know where they came from. Don't remember her baking. But there's a massive container of chocolate chip cookies appearing from her bag like magic, and my team descends like wolves.
"Holy shit, these are amazing."
"Language, Tyler."
"Sorry, Coach. Holy crap, these are amazing."
Jessica laughs. The sound hits me square in the chest. She's got flour on her cheek—how did I not notice that before?—and her ponytail is half-collapsed, and she's surrounded by sweaty teenage boys fighting over baked goods.
She's never been more beautiful.
"One each," she's saying, batting away grabbing hands. "There's enough for everyone. Yes, Marcus, even you, but you're telling me where that gum came from first."
"I plead the fifth."
"This isn't court. Spill."
Marcus grumbles something about a girl named Sophie and how gum helps with nerves. Jessica's expression softens.
"Ask her to the winter formal yet?"
"How do you know about the formal?"
"Connor told me. He's taking Madison."
"Connor talks too much."
