Page 40 of The Coach

I hesitate, hovering over my laptop’s trackpad. “Because…”

I press play.

The screen flickers to life—a replay from today’s Stallions game. The camera zooms in on the sidelines, where a tall, broad-shouldered man paces, headset on, barking orders.

Jackson.

I hit pause.

Lauren leans in, watching as the camera lingers on him—his chiseled jaw, piercing blue eyes, intensity radiating off him.

The caption at the bottom of the screen reads:

"New Head Coach Jackson Knox leads the Stallions to a Week One victory!"

Lauren blinks. Then leans in closer.

I hold my breath.

Her head slowly turns toward me.

“No.”

I stay silent.

Lauren blinks rapidly. “No. No. No.”

I take another breath.

Her jaw drops.

“IVY.”

I bite my lip.

She grabs my arm. “Are you telling me thatthisJackson—” she gestures wildly at the screen—“isyourJackson? The Jackson? The guy you hooked up with in May? The one who ghosted you? Thefatherof your baby?!”

I nod. “Yep.”

Lauren stares at me. Then at the screen. Then back at me.

Her eyes shine with pure disbelief. “You…did notjust sit here and let me find out like this.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “I just figured it out today. When Carl was raving about this ‘great new head coach,’ no less.”

Lauren blinks. Then she places both hands on her knees, like she physically needs a minute to process this.

“I need a drink.”

I laugh, but she doesn’t.

Her expression turns dead serious.

“No, I’m serious.”

She stands abruptly, heading toward the kitchen. I watch as she pours a generous rum and coke, adding extra ice like she needs the chill to ground her.

When she returns, she sinks onto the couch beside me, taking a long sip before setting the glass down.

---