She raises a brow. “That’s the PR-friendly answer. What’s the real one?”
A small smile tugs at my mouth. “You don’t let me off easy, do you?”
“Not a chance.”
I take a breath, rolling the words around before saying them. “It’s weird being back. Coaching where I used to play. It’s like I can’t walk down a hallway without hearing someone’s version of who I was back then. And this job… it’s interim. I’m still fighting for the permanent position.”
Her expression softens. “You’re nervous.”
“Yeah,” I admit. “It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted something this badly. And I keep wondering if people still see me as the kid who couldn’t keep his head straight. The one who threw away a chance most people never get.”
She doesn’t look away. “You’re not that guy anymore. You’ve learned some lessons and grown up. Don’t let anyone force you back into the box you outgrew.”
“I appreciate that, but try telling that to the alumni or the board,” I say with a half smile. “They remember the headlines, not the work that came after.”
“Then show them,” she says simply.
I look up, and her voice is soft but sure in a way that makes me stop picking at my fries.
“You’ve already started proving who you are,” she continues. “Every time you walk into that locker room, every time you show up for those players, you’re doing it. That’s what people will remember. The consistency, leading by example. You prove yourself with your actions, not only your words.”
I study her, the sincerity in her face. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It’s not. If it were easy, everyone would do it,” she admits. “But yeah. The only way to change what people believe is to keep showing them who you are now.”
She made a point about me learning lessons and outgrowing the box people keep trying to put me in. It helps to talk to someone who sees you. Who knows you.
“Thanks,” I say quietly. “I needed that.”
She smiles, reaching across the table to steal one of my fries. “That’s what I’m here for. Giving you pep talks and stealing your food.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “So what about you? You’ve been quiet about school lately.”
Her smile wavers, a little hesitant. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, actually. I’ve finally made a decision.”
“Yeah?”
She takes a breath. “I’m going to change my major.”
That catches me off guard. “Really?”
She nods, brushing a crumb from her lip. “Yeah. I kept changing my mind before. It was like I was chasing what I thought I was supposed to do. But nothing ever stuck. So I’m switching to elementary education.” She pauses, smiling a little. “Who knows, maybe it won’t work out. I’m not pretending to have it all figured out, but for once, it feels like I’m actually heading somewhere that makes sense.”
“That’s a big move,” I say, leaning back. “But exciting too.”
“It is,” she admits. “I’ve spent too long trying to make everyone else happy. This… this feels different. Being around Steven’s kids over winter break made me realize how much I missed it—helping them, watching them learn. It gave me this sense of purpose I didn’t even know I’d been missing. I guess it’s kind of like coaching in that way.”
I watch her talk, how sure she sounds, how relaxed she is. “Looks like we’re both figuring out our next chapters.”
“Guess so,” she says, her eyes meeting mine.
We sit there for a moment, the noise of the bar fading until it’s just the two of us.
“I want this to work,” I say finally, before I can talk myself out of it. “Whatever this is, wherever it goes between us, I don’t want it to be temporary. Even if my time in Kolmont ends sooner than I’d like, I need you to know that doesn’t change anything for me. Or how I feel about you.”
Her expression softens, the corners of her mouth curving into something real. “I do too. But we both know this isn’t going to be easy. I just don’t want either of us to keep running from what this is between us.”
She nods, tracing the edge of her glass with her thumb.
