“I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t,” I say with conviction.
“Then yes. Absolutely.”
After we work out logistics, including how he’ll have to check in at the front desk, I tell him I look forward to seeing him tomorrow.
I’m conflicted because I actually mean it. I realize I have more work of my own to do with my own therapist.
The Brennan I just got off the phone with is so close to my memory of the boy I fell in love with—affable, charming, and willing to chip in to better the people around him.
In other words, if my heart wasn’t so wary, I’d be interested in getting to know who he is now.
But that’s not his problem. That’s mine.
“Class, meet Brennan McCallister. He’s going to help us visualize yesterday’s lesson.”
My students lose their minds after I introduce Brennan. My class is divided in their immediate hero worship. The girls are stunned by his good looks—dark hair and blue eyes highlighted by a simple sweater and jeans. As for the boys, they immediately sit up straighter to imitate him. Brennan’s presence alone changes the feel of my classroom.
I twist the cap of my dry erase marker in my hands as I try to suppress my own feelings about having him in my classroom.
No,not just in my classroom. I correct myself. By asking him here, I’ve invited him back into my life.
What was I thinking? Before I have a chance to think about it, Brennan smiles at them and says, “Hi.”
One of the girls swoons, “His voice is Irish.”
Brennan winks at me. I can’t stop my grin when I confirm, “He is. It saved him a lot of times when I was trying to help him study in college.”
Connor’s flabbergasted. “You mean Ms. D taught you as well? Man, who knew you had to go through that.”
Laughter ripples around the room. Brennan smiles. “She was the best tutor there was. Let me show you some of what she taught me and how it helped me in my career.”
Brennan moves closer to the board and picks up a spare dry erase marker. “Alright. Let’s talk angles.”
He reviews my diagram before adding motion lines to it. “When you’re moving at full speed, angles aren’t static. They change with every stride on the ice. Angles gave me options so I wasn’t forcing shots.”
Connor’s hand shoots up. “So Ms. D is correct? You studied geometry?”
Brennan nods. “Not to mention physics. It’s all part of the situational awareness on the ice.” He spots a hand in the back. “Yes. You have a question?”
Something warm unfurls in my chest watching Brennan interact with my students. He’s not showboating. He’s thoughtfully listening before speaking—showing me a whole new side to him.
All too soon, the bell rings. My class applauds and thanks him on their way out. I wonder for a moment if I’m going to have to drag Connor out. But finally, once they leave, it’s just the two of us in the room. I announce, “You were perfect.”
“Your setup did the heavy lifting. I just picked up the drop pass.”
“You did more than that.”
“Amy?”
“Yes?”
“I’m glad you called.”
“So am I.” I gather my things and meet his eyes. For the first time, I don’t see the past when I meet them. In his deep blue irises, all I see is open ice.
Potential.
“Do you have to stick around? Anything planned?” He asks casually.
