Sadie looks at and her face pales. She stands up tall, tucking her hair behind her ears and says, “This is a misunderstanding. There was no fight or anything like that—”
She nods, but it’s hesitant. “I understand that things like this don’t always show everything. But it’s getting around and I wanted to bring it to your attention.”
Sadie’s voice is calm but firm. “Colson didn’t touch him. He didn’t push him. He was trying to de-escalate the situation.”
She’s trying to stand up for me, and even though she’s telling the truth, I’m not sure that’s the move. I look up and watch as the kids get ready to start their warm-ups in a few minutes. How many other parents saw this? All of them?
“I’ll be the first to say, this doesn’t look good. But Sadie’s right. I didn’t put my hands on anyone. He literally tripped—”
The seconds the words come out, I know it sounds like a piss-poor excuse.
“My husband told me they dismissed you from your NBA team. Is that true?”
My stomach drops; it’s so jarring that it’s almost hard for me to stand. It only takes a second for me to realize how bad this will fucking look to anyone who sees this. Like it’s normal. Like I’m out of control.
The woman shifts her weight. “I just think we need to talk about this as a family before Emma continues.”
She’s kinder than I expect. I can’t say a single thing because I know how awful this looks.Me. How awfulIlook.
Sadie tries to jump in; I can feel the wave of her trying to convince the woman to change her mind. I put up a hand and say, “It’s okay. Whatever you think is best.”
Emma offers us a sad wave as her mom holds her hand, taking her back out to the car, and it stings.
For a second, the gym noise swells back in but it feels like I’m underwater. I don’t know what to do.
Sadie puts a hand on my shoulder, “Let’s get through this practice and then we’ll figure it out, okay?”
I nod, trying to push down the disappointment and hurt. Right now, it feels like I let Sadie down. But leaving right now would be worse than staying and helping the kids have the experience they deserve.
I commit, mentally, to stay for this practice. Pretend I’m not panicking.
Other decisions can be made later.
forty-eight
Sadie
I’mstandinginfrontof my fridge, pretending to think about what I’ll make for dinner, when I’m really going over everything that happened with that parent before practice.
I’d been sure Colson was going to leavebeforepractice even started. The moment that mother pulled Emma aside, the way her mouth tightened when she mentioned the article, the careful distance she kept from him—I’d braced myself. I’d watched Colson from the corner of my eye, waiting for the shrink of his shoulders, the defeat to ring out.
When Emma left early, I thought that would be it. I really thought he’d leave.
No part of me thinks he’ll stay here forever. That’s not practical. And I certainly don’t have that good of luck. I know he wants to play for another team, and he’ll have to go wherever that is, but that seems like something to worry about when the time comes.
Today’s event made it feel like his decision is infringing on our time. About to pop the summer bubble. My stomach flips, nervousness pricking at me.
So when Colson stayed—when he finished practice, helped clean up, joked with the kids like nothing had cracked—I felt something dangerously close to relief.
The article didn’t get it right. It never does.
He hadn’t been aggressive. He hadn’t been reckless. He was there taking care of me. Making sure I wasn’t cornered, wasn’t scared, wasn’t alone. And now Colson was going to pay for it.
I could tell he was more reserved, like his mind wandered more than we’re used to, but I couldn’t blame him. No way.
My apartment feels like it’s choking me. I’m up grabbing my keys before I have a chance to recognize the panic. That this is my fault. Nick is my baggage; if it weren’t for him, this wouldn’t be happening.
I close the fridge, grab my keys, and am practically running back out to my car. I drive straight to Colson’s place, my hands tight on the steering wheel, my heart pounding with worry and nerves.
