Page 52 of The Coach

I try to swallow, but my throat is dry.

I lift my camera again, snapping a shot of the skyline in the distance.

Because suddenly, this isn’t just a trip.

This is happening.

Jackson Knox is in this city.

And soon—I will be, too.

The city is alive.

It’s the night before the home opener, and Chicago is buzzing with excitement. The energy crackles in the air, spilling out of bars, restaurants, and high-rise windows. Every street corner has at least one Stallions jersey-clad fan, and banners hang from light poles and bar windows, welcoming the season.

Lauren practically skips beside me. “God, I love cities.”

I, on the other hand, feel like my stomach is eating itself.

The closer we get to the stadium, the heavier my chest feels. Everywhere I look, Jackson’s world is staring back at me. The billboards, the fans, the goddamn skyline itself.

Lauren links her arm through mine, steering me toward a bar with floor-to-ceiling windows and a rooftop patio. Inside, it’s packed with fans and casual diners, all drinking, eating, and buzzing about tomorrow’s game.

Lauren turns to me with a grin. “Alright. Pre-game meal. Stallions headquarters. Just the two of us and afew hundredpeople who worship the father of your child. No big deal.”

I groan. “Ihateyou.”

“Youloveme.”

We step inside, and the hum of conversation, the clink of glasses, the scent of grilled food fills the air.

Lauren snags a table near the window. “Okay, let’s order, then we’ll make a game plan.”

“Agameplan?”

“Yes, Ivy. This is a sports-themed mission. We needstrategy.”

I slump into my seat, setting my camera on the table. “How about I just wing it like I have everything else in my life?”

Lauren waves down a waiter, unbothered. “One Spicy Mango Margarita, and…” she looks at me.

I glance at the menu and shake my head. “Just a ginger ale.”

We eat. We talk. Lauren gossips about a teacher at school who is probably having an affair with the gym coach.

I keep glancing around the bar, trying to keep my nerves in check.

Then it happens.

The TV above the bar flickers to life.

A sports anchor appears, grinning like an idiot. "Tomorrow night, the Chicago Stallions play their home opener with new head coach Jackson Knox at the helm."

My stomach drops.

Lauren’s head whips toward the screen.

And then, there he is.

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