Heat crawls up my neck.
How am I looking at her?
Like I can’t stop thinking about that kiss? Like I had to lock myself in the shower afterward just to get my head straight?
Yeah. Probably something like that.
“Alright, leave him alone,” Jay cuts in, saving me. “We’re clearly not helping. Let’s switch topics. So, Coach Mercer wants training to start next week, by the way. Said you need to work on your left side after that hit last season.”
“My left side is fine,” I mutter, immediately grateful for the change of topic.
“You favored your right for two periods,” Riley says. “Everyone saw it.”
“I still scored.”
“Because you’re a stubborn bastard,” Jay laughs.
Fair.
I don’t argue.
The season starting again sits somewhere uneasy in my stomach, but I shove it down. Captain. Responsibility. All that.
Then—
“I can pick up Livy after school,” Jenna says casually. “No problem.”
Every head turns toward her.
Including mine.
That wasn’t part of the plan.
We talked about it, sure—but only for the court. Only in theory. Livy goes to a private school, and for most people, picking up a kid after work isn’t a big deal.
But my schedule isn’t normal. Not even close.
And Jenna?—
Jenna just volunteered like it is.
“You don’t have to—” I begin.
“It’s no trouble,” she says, locking her gaze with mine. I can’t help but lift my hand, letting my fingers brush against hers. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Riley and Jay exchanging glances, their expressions a mix of surprise and amusement. Suddenly, I pull back as if her skin has set me on fire. Damn it. That’s why I don’t bring people.
“I can work from home those afternoons. The school’s on my way back from the courthouse anyway.” Jenna acts like my touch didn’t mean anything, but I see her fingertips lingering on the same spot where we connected, almost as if she’s trying to hold onto the moment.
She’s already thought this through, though.
“If you’re sure...” I say.
“I am. Livy and I get along well. Don’t we?”
She glances toward the playground where my daughter is currently hanging upside down from a bar, her blonde pigtails dangling toward the ground as she laughs at something Rory has said. There’s that stupid, fuzzy feeling in my chest again. I don’t like it.
“You’ll need to be added to the pickup authorization,” I tell her. “They’re strict.”
“Sure,” she says simply.
