Scottie glanced at us, but whatever she was thinking, she kept it to herself. One thing I knew, though: she didn’t expect us to get down on the ground with her. She didn’t expect us to stay.
It took forty-five minutes to locate the dad. Scottie spent every one of them on that floor, and so Logan and I did, too. But Scottie ran the show. She let Becca give her a full recap of the game. She argued with Becca about calls. When her phone buzzed, she muted it without even looking down, only answering her radio when there were updates. Not once did Scottie give any indication that she had a life happening somewhere outside of that corridor.
When the dad finally came barreling around the corner, face blotchy, voice cracking as he cried his daughter’s name, Scottie stood up, smoothed her slacks, and handed Becca off like a relay runner passing a baton. Becca gave her a huge hug. Scottie gave her a smile. Then while Becca and her dad were talking to Logan and me, Scottie slipped away to go solve the next crisis.
She didn’t wait for a thank-you.
I don’t think it occurred to her to.
“She wasgreatwith that kid,” I say.
Logan’s quiet for a second. “Okay. She was great with the kid,” Logan says. “I’m not saying she’s a bad person. I’m saying you shouldn’t still be buying her coffee.”
He says it like Scottie’s the kind of person a guy could forget. Like what she did for Becca was a one-off.
He doesn’t know that I could tell him a hundred stories like it. That sometime last season I started noticing the way she quietly anticipated other people’s problems, absorbing the impact before it could reach anyone else. I watched how she made sure Kayla never had to walk into a room that wasn’t already handled and the way she stood in the doorway of Kayla’s office the day the league came to question her, so Kayla didn’t have to face it alone.
I didn’t mean to keep track.
But once I started watching, I couldn’t stop.
That’s the thing Logan doesn’t understand. Scottie doesn’t do it for credit or to be seen.
She does it because she’s decided the people she loves deserve a soft landing, and she’s going to be the one to make sure they get it.
I just want to make the list.
The person in front of us pays, and we step forward, a blast of heat greeting us through the open window.
The barista smiles when she sees us.
“If it isn’t my favorite customers,” Alma says. She’s a sturdy woman in her late sixties, with white streaks in her otherwise long dark hair. She treats us like we’re her wayward grandsons. “What can I get for you?”
“Two protein-boosted vanilla cozies,” Logan says, ordering our favorite steamed milk drink.
Alma looks at me. “And what are we getting for your lady friend today?”
“They shouldn’t be friends at all anymore,” Logan tells Alma, leaning closer. I think it’s for the warmth rather than him being a traitor, but I elbow him, anyway. He smacks my arm. “She’s dating someone else.”
Alma tuts. “No, no, no. This won’t do.”
“Sorry, Alma,” I say. She was pretty invested in my drink orders once she figured out what was going on. I swallow a lump of regret. “Logan’s right. I probably shouldn’t get her anything.”
Alma keeps tutting and shaking her head, and she walks away from the counter. The line behind us is getting longer, but Alma doesn’t care. She strides around the kitchen—a woman on a mission—and when she comes back, she sets our vanilla cozies down firmly.
“I’ll be back,” she says, like she learned English in the ’80s watchingThe Terminator.
The people behind us in line are getting antsy, and one of them starts grumbling. “What’s going on in there?” he asks, tapping his leather dress shoe.
“They must be short-staffed,” I say.
The man curses. His trench coat and business scream “Ask me about my crypto portfolio.”
Alma returns a minute later with another drink. “Here,” she says. “This is the one. Bittersweet dark chocolate mocha with sea salt and a splash of caramel.”
“To Bean or Not to Bean?” I ask. The splash of caramel was my idea last year, so Alma let me name it. “We tried this one already.”
“You’ve tried everything,” Alma says, handing her card reader to Logan, who taps his phone screen against it. “But I feel good about it. So good, I changed the name.”
