“Write it. Tell him the offer’s open anytime.”
I only hesitate a second before writing out a response to the comment, making it a little cheeky to avoid sounding defensive.
The drive to Templeton takes less than five minutes, and as soon as Noel parks, I get out and grab my camera from the back seat.
When we walk into the front doors of Templeton, I look around, a little awestruck. It’s modern and filled with natural light from rows of windows above, the walls covered with photos of the team now and over the many years of its history.
Templeton was intended to be the team’s main practice facility, but Noel likes practicing on the home ice. Both the arena and Templeton have weight rooms and training facilities.
Some of the kids are already there, even though the event doesn’t start until eleven a.m. One of them runs up to Noel and throws her arms around him, her head barely clearing his waist.
After the hug, he squats down so he’s at eye level with her, his intimidating scowl replaced with a warm smile. Whatever he says to her makes her light up.
I shoot a few photos, checking them out on my camera screen when someone says, “Hey, Jules.”
It’s Isaac, who walks over and hugs me.
“Hey, hi.”
“How’s it going?”
“Good, thanks.”
His gaze moves down my body as he takes in my dark-gray pants and jacket. I’m wearing a light-blue cami under the jacket and black heels.
“You look nice,” he says.
“Moss!”
We both turn toward the deep, booming voice. It’s Noel, who’s scowling at Isaac and waving him over.
Isaac grins at me. “Gotta go. Catch you later.”
I watch as he approaches Noel, who chews on him. I can’t hear what he’s saying, and I fight my urge to move closer so I can.
I remind myself yet again that I’m a professional. I have work to do.
CHAPTER FIVE
Noel
The sunrise is stillhours away, and I’ve already had it with today. My alarm went off at three a.m. for a road trip. And when I walked into my kitchen, there was water all over the floor from an apparent dishwasher leak. And then I saw the text waiting for me from my son Chase.
I left a message with someone from the front office to get a plumber over to my house today, and now that I’m finally in my plane seat, I can text Chase back.
I read his text to me again.
Chase:I’m over it. We shouldn’t be practicing in the offseason. I want to have fun, it’s my senior year. Mom doesn’t care if I quit.
I type out a response, trying not to blow a gasket over him wanting to quit basketball. He’s worked hard since he was five years old, and he’s going to be able to play college ball. But not if he quits before his senior high school season even starts.
Noel:Winning teams practice year-round. That’s nothing new for the program. You don’t have a job and there’s plenty oftime for fun. Get your ass into that weight room. And what the hell are you doing texting me at 1:41 am on a school night?
I put my phone in my bag on the seat next to me, knowing Chase won’t get the message for several hours. Co-parenting is the cherry on top of the shit sundae that is divorce. My daughter Chloe had to fax a school permission slip to the front office the other day because Angie’s on a boat in the Keys with her boyfriend, and she doesn’t have phone access. I don’t like the kids being home alone for so long, even though they’re teenagers.
It’s time to have a tough conversation with Nick Simmons about him not making the roster. I’m usually all business about those, but this one’s bothering me. I hate to cut such a hard worker, but it has to be done. He’s only nineteen, so I’m not telling him not ever, I’m telling him not yet.
After this road trip, I’ll do all three conversations on the same day, but his will be the hardest.
