Evie lifts her good arm in the air like she’s exacerbated. “I DID.”
Knox sighs dramatically, like he’s been exposed. “Can’t argue with the kid.”
Kate adjusts Evie on her hip and grabs her backpack from the couch. I move to open the door for them, and Evie reaches out to hand me something sticky.
“Coach Wells, I saved you a gummy bear. I kept it in my pocket for you.”
I take it between two fingers. “Uh…thanks?”
Kate groans. “Evie! We talked about pocket snacks!”
I turn to Knox and Brynn. “Thanks guys, I owe you one.”
They say goodbye and we walk to the truck. Evie fills the ride home with stories, bouncing from glitter to dinosaurs to ice cream like her brain is on fast-forward. By the time we reach the house, she’s fading, and the cab goes quiet in a peaceful way that makes me wish the drive were a little longer.
Chapter forty-four
Kate
Penny’s is packed for a weekday, the lunchtime rush buzzing around us as we step inside. Kinsey zeroes in on an empty booth tucked near the back wall.
“Move,” she says, already weaving through the tables. “Before somebody’s mee-maw beats us to it.”
I follow her, sliding into the booth. She drops into the seat across from me with a huff, stretching her back a little as she settles. Just a tiny wince, a small outward sign of discomfort—nothing I can call attention to without her brushing it off in a storm of sarcasm. So I don’t. I tuck it away.
A server brings us menus and water. Kinsey flips hers open, glances for half a second, and sets it aside.
“BLT and fries,” she announces. “And whatever you order, just know I’m stealing part of it.”
I laugh. “Good to know where we stand.”
Our drinks arrive, and once the server steps away, Kinsey rests her forearms on the table, eyes locked on me with that no-bullshit stare she uses when she’s about to crack me open emotionally.
“So,” she says. “How are things with Cam the Baseball God?”
I choke on my water. “Stop calling him that.”
“What? He’s hot. And tall. And he’s got that responsible-coach energy that screams ‘I know how to help.’ That’s basically porn for single moms.”
“Please stop talking.”
She grins. “Tell me what’s going on.”
I smooth my napkin on my lap, trying to keep my voice even. “It’s…complicated.”
“It’s not,” she says immediately. “You’re terrified, and he’s being patient. That’s the whole dynamic.”
I give her a look. “Do you want me to talk, or do you want to talk for me?”
“Oh, I’ll let you talk. I just already know the answers.”
She’s impossible. And I love her for it.
“We said things were casual in the beginning,” I say. “And it was. But now it’s…different.”
“Different good or different scary?”
“Both,” I admit. “I just don’t want to screw anything up. For Evie. For me.”
