Page 25 of Hometown Halftime

Cam raises his brows. “She means we were talking about rugby.”

Knox snorts. “No, we weren’t.”

Brynn elbows him. “Behave.”

She gestures, pointing me toward a seat on the couch. “So, how’s coaching?”

Knox leans forward, his forearms braced on his knees. “Are the girls getting it? Are they listening? Better yet, are you enjoying it?”

“It’s been surprisingly good,” I admit. “They’re eager and occasionally violent.”

Kate beams. “It sounds like you found your people.”

Brynn wiggles her brows. “And how’s your new assistant?”

There it is.

I grab a throw pillow and hug it to my chest. “He’s fine.”

“Just fine?” Kate says, biting back a smile.

“I mean, it’s only been a couple of weeks,” I say. “We’re still figuring out the flow.”

Kate continues, “You met for coffee, though.”

“That was a planning session that just so happened to occur over coffee,” I correct. “Wait a second, I didn’t tell you about that.”

Brynn gives me an attempt at an innocent smile. “Do we ever need to tell each other anything? Levi told me the two of you were at Cedar Perk.”

I roll my eyes. “Guess I need to have a talk with Levi.”

“So, how did it go?” Brynn asks.

I ignore the flush creeping up my neck. “Good. He’s easy to work with.”

“Uh-huh,” Brynn says, unconvinced.

Before I can deflect again, a tight pinch blooms deep in my lower back, sharp enough to make me inhale too quickly. It shoots down my left leg in a now familiar line, not as sharp as what happened in the shower, but enough that the room narrows for a heartbeat. I shift on the couch, trying to hide the way my muscles are tense.

Knox’s brow pinches. “Hey, what was that?”

“Nothing,” I say defensively, adjusting my posture. “Just sat weird.”

“No, you didn’t.” His voice isn’t scolding, it’s just concerned in that big-brother way he has with people he cares about. “You went stiff for a second.”

I force a breath through my nose, aiming to be casual. “It’s fine, Knox. Probably a muscle twinge.”

Brynn’s brows draw together. “Is it new?”

“Yes,” I say. “Sort of. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Kate straightens. “How long has it been happening?”

I wave a hand. “It’s not a thing. I’m just tired. This has been a long week. I might be sore from moving all the boxes at the food bank.”

But Knox doesn’t buy it. He watches me with that assessing stare I’ve seen coaches give injured players. It’s the kind of look that says be honest, even though you don’t want to be.

I shift my leg again, trying to quell the dull, creeping ache.