“Bill had hip surgery, alright? He could walk just fine!” I throw my hands out to the side, refusing to lose that argument again. “His normal spot was closer to the ramp anyway.” I point at her, and she shoots her hands up to indicate her innocence. “Whatever.” I wave at her in defeat. “We were just checking up on you. Them because they’re bored teenagers, and me because—”
“Because why, Malcolm? Tell me, honestly.” Her voice is sharp and annoyed, and I want to punch myself.
I flinch at the tone, afraid to speak. It’s rare that I can’t speak my mind, but with her, the fear I have of ever upsetting her trumps every ounce of internal pride that usually prevents me from keeping my mouth shut. Her feelings are a sounding board to my thoughts, filtering out any blunt thoughts that might come out. I can’t tell her why I’m here, because honestly, I’m embarrassed to admit it—even to myself. To admit I’m jealous of her going on a date is childish. I pride myself on my careless approach to life. Letting stuff slide off my shoulders when things don’t go my way is my signature.
“Malcolm…” her voice cuts through the air like a blade on glass.
I kick at a piece of trash abandoned in the parking lot, avoiding her laser-beam eyes like my life depends on it. This woman is intimidating as hell when she wants to be, and it’s not often that I’m on the other end of that terrifying stare.
Rubbing the back of my neck, still fully craned down toward the crumpled-up wrapper I have busied myself with, I say, “I, uh…we”—I wave to the van behind me—“were concerned…”
“Concerned,” she repeats in disbelief.
Clearing my throat, I force myself to look at her and the now flattened paper under my boot. “Concerned. We just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“You don’t think I can handle myself?”
“No.” The word slips out before I can stop it, and her face twists uncomfortably. “I mean, yes. Of course you can handle yourself. I just…” Impatience ripples inside me, trickling down my spine like icy water. I can’t keep it in any longer.
“I just think you’re making a poor decision, alright?” I snap. “Going on a date with your ex? After what he did to you? Because you think the universe is telling you something?” My questions come out hard and fast, accusations thick in my throat. Kate’s eyes waver for a moment before going cold again, a forceful effort to keep her composure. “You don’t need the universe to tell you what to do, Kate.”
“Hey, guys.” Eric weaves his way through the parked cars to join us under the flickering streetlight. “Is everything okay?” He places his hand on Kate’s back, and everything inside me threatens to rage. I shove my fists in my pockets to restrain myself, or they’ll be hanging him from the streetlamp, shading us all with his upside-down silhouette.
Kate's eyes remain fixed on mine. "We're fine. Just ran into these guys," she says, waving at the group, who hesitantly returns the gesture. Devon ducks down in his seat to avoid being recognized by his future coach. Eric nods to Kate inunderstanding and leans in to whisper something in her ear, his lips dangerously close to the spot I've imagined nipping at a million times. The spot she lets brush against my beard when she hugs me. The spot that I know makes her eyes flutter and roll back when it's gently grazed by a thumb. The spot he has no right being near anymore. He shoots me a friendly wave before turning back toward the restaurant.
I hate him.
I manage a nod in return, my teeth clenched and eyes burning. I can't hide how his touch on her makes me feel. I might snap his hand if he lingers too long.
I wait for what feels like an eternity for Eric to be out of earshot. The man stalks around like a bear but has the speed of a turtle. Closing the distance between us, I give Kate an apologetic smile. “I didn’t mean to ruin the date.”
She rolls her eyes, the harshness of her gaze fading when she focuses on me. “I can take care of myself, you know.”
A ringlet falls across her face, and I catch it with my fingers. Pushing it behind her ear, I let my thumb brush the spot and watch her eyes flutter closed. A small sound only I can hear leaves her mouth. The sound is almost enough to send me to my knees right here in this parking lot.
Pulling my hand back and shoving it under my arm, I whisper, “I know you can.”
I take a small step back. Adding more space between us is the best option right now. For me. For her. For her date. And for the nosey teenagers watching our every move. She notes the motion and does the same, giving me a nod of understanding.
“Just know that I will always want to take care of you, Kate. Even when you think you can do it on your own, I’m still going to try to do it for you. You’re stuck with me.”
A smile lights up every inch of her face at that. “Good.”
“Mint chocolate chip?” Sarah asks, disgust marking her face like I’ve committed a crime.
“Yeah,” I say with my mouth half full of ice cream.
She fakes a gag before taking a bite of her birthday-cake ice cream. “You’re eating toothpaste, pretty much.”
“Toothpaste-covered Oreos,” Garrett adds, inhaling his double chocolate scoop like it’s his last supper.
The group heckles me for my dessert choice the entire walk back to the hotel. I endure it for three blocks before speed-walking past them to create some distance. I wasn’t planning to join them on their late-night munchie run, but it beats wallowing alone in my hotel room. The sheer fact that I’ve been choosing company over being alone in any form over the last few years is evidence enough for what Glendale has done to me. For years, after losing Brennan, I was content with being alone—living my life, tending my garden, doing the crossword by myself. But somewhere along the way, I’ve desired companionship more and more, like a dull ache in my chest that never goes away. It doesn’t hurt, but I know it’s there.
“Coach, wait up!” Charlie catches up to me, the rest of the group a block behind.
“What, Henders?” My tone does not convey the companionship my heart desires—an ongoing issue I’m working on.
“With the scrimmage tomorrow, I was wondering if I could play?” He tosses his empty cone in a nearby trash can.
