I smile, setting up the cones. I’ve assisted with some clinics in Kluvberg, but those children were older. Most of them had already reached the point of taking football seriously. It’s been a long time—probably since I was the same age as Tommy—that playing football had no purpose. But that’s exactly how it feels, kicking the ball toward Claire’s kid and telling him to try to knock over the cones.
Tommy hits three out of five, the smile on his face beaming brighter than the bright sun overhead when I congratulate him on his accuracy.
“This time, try?—”
“TOMMY!”
We both glance toward the loud shout, watching Claire sprint this way. She’s in jeans but still wearing her practice jersey, her hair free from its usual ponytail and streaming behind her.
She doesn’t stop running until she’s a few feet away, casting a quick, uncertain glance at me before bending down to Tommy’s level. “What are you doing down here? You were supposed to stay with Lydia until I came out to get you. We’ve been looking everywhere.”
“Sorry, Claire,” Tommy says sheepishly, looking down and rolling the ball under his foot.
A frown creases my forehead. Why doesn’t he call her Mom?
Claire exhales, breathing heavily. With panic more than exertion, I think. “You can’t wander around alone. Someone needs toalwaysbe with you, understood?”
Tommy looks at me. “I was with Otto.”
I smile at him. His immediate acceptance of me is cute.
“Otto is a coach,” Claire says. “He isn’t here to look after you, like Lydia is or like I am. One of us always needs to be with you.”
Tommy nods, looking crestfallen.
“I did not mind,” I say, like an idiot.
Claire shoots me an exasperated look. I think she’s more annoyed with me than Tommy now. “Come on,” she tells him brusquely.
Tommy doesn’t move. “I want to keep playing with Otto.”
“He’s busy.”
This time, I’m smart enough to keep my mouth shut.
But when Tommy asks, “Doing what?” I have to work to keep the grin off my face.
Claire glances at me, frustration evident in her expression.
I shrug my good shoulder. “I do not mind playing more.”
If we’d first met a few weeks ago, I’d understand her reluctance to leave her kid with me. But we didn’t.
She holds my gaze for a few seconds, and it’s a hold-my-breath moment I haven’t experienced in six years. Waiting… Hoping she’ll choose to trust me.
“Okay,” Claire finally says, and I exhale. She glances at Tommy. “I need to let Lydia know I found you. I’m going to finish changing, and then I’ll be back down here to get you. You listen to Otto, and you stay with him, okay?”
Tommy nods somberly. “Okay.”
Claire looks to me, mouthing a quick,Thanks, before she turns and jogs back toward the building.
“You really think I’m good at soccer?” Tommy asks me, walking over to the abandoned ball.
“I do,” I confirm. “Your mom is one of the best players I know.”
His nose scrunches up in confusion. “Huh?”
“Claire? Your mom?”
