"I can name all the state capitals."
I'm not sure what I was expecting him to reveal, but it wasn't that. "Really?"
"Yep." He gives one firm nod. "Ask me any state, and I'll tell you."
"Okay. Florida," I say since I was convinced it was Miami, and it cost me fifty bucks to Bean when I found out it wasn't.
"Tallahassee."
"Okay. That's good." I rack my brain for something harder. "Montana."
No hesitation. "Helena."
"South Dakota."
"Pierre."
"Okay, fine. North Dakota."
"Easy. Bismarck."
We continue this way as I fire off Vermont, New Hampshire, Wisconsin, Kansas, and Nevada in rapidly quicker succession.
"Very impressive," I say, congratulating him as I look up the answers on my phone and he nails every single one.
He smiles in return. "Thanks."
I'm about to ask him how—why?—he knows all the state capitals when the flag flips up. Wasting no time, I haul up the line with a surprised whoop, the rainbowtrout wriggling wildly before I plunk it into the bucket to keep it cold and fresh.
"We did it," I say to TD, beaming.
"Youdid it," he corrects, smiling back at me.
"Keep rattling off state capitals. I think it might bring good luck," I tell him, and it draws a rich, warm laugh out of him that I feel all the way down to my boots.
7
TD
"Thank you for today," I say as Tex throws our fourth catch into the bucket. "I needed this."
That laid-back smile of his appears with no effort at all. "You're welcome. It's nice to do this with someone."
I tip my head and rebait the hook. I'm not sure how much of the conversation with my lawyer he overheard this morning, but by the time I was done, he was waiting out on the front porch. I appreciated him giving me some privacy, and I made a note to myself to have any additional conversations with my lawyer in my car so I'm not forcing the guy out of his own house.
I drop the line back down, reset the tip-up, and take a look around. There's nothing but white snow, dark pines, and a crisp, cloudless sky. Ireallyneeded this. Not just to clear my head of the custody battle, but after surviving my first week as head coach. Kimball was right, they're a dedicated bunch, and what they lack in skill they more than make up for in attitude and perseverance. I can’t say how we’ll do this season, but it (hopefully) won’t be a total crapshoot.
When he's not looking, I discreetly angle my head toward Tex. He’s wearing a deep-red down jacket that looks like it’s survived a few winters, with a fleece layer underneath and black snow pants that crinkle slightly every time he shifts in the chair. A wool beanie hides most of his medium-brown curls, and a gaiter hangs loosely around his neck, ready to pull up if the wind kicks in. His boots are lace-up insulated ones, scuffed from years of use, his feet planted wide for balance on the ice. I shakemy head and wonder if he realizes the effect he's having on me by doing nothing more than being himself.
I've always been bisexual, and I was upfront with Belinda about it when we started dating. Professionally, I've never denied who I was if someone straight up asked me about it, but I didn't go around advertising it, either. Pro sport has made some big strides in recent times, but it still has a long way to go, and I didn't want my sexuality impacting the team negatively in any way.
"My ex-wife, Belinda, is fighting me on custody," I say glumly, sinking back down into my chair.
He nods, like it's not new information, because it probably isn't. Coaches aren't typically in the spotlight the way athletes are…until there's a sex scandal, and suddenly, it's being covered everywhere by everyone.
"You've got three daughters, haven’t you?"
I smile. "That's right. Sabra who's almost fifteen, going on twenty-five, Minnie who's ten, and Jade who just turned eight."
