Page 75 of The Coach

I stretch my arms, still waking up. “Ten.”

He nods. “I’ll give you a ride to the station then.”

A few minutes later, we’re on his balcony, mugs in hand, staring out at the expansive view of Chicago.

The city stretches for miles, Lake Michigan glinting under the morning sun.

Jackson leans against the railing, sipping his coffee, casual, effortless.

Meanwhile, my brain is a mess.

I’ve spent the last four months telling myself I’d never see him again. That he was a ghosting asshole. And now, we’re here. Drinking coffee like we do this every Sunday morning.

I try to make small talk.

“So…the Stallions. How are they looking this year?”

He smirks. “That’s what you wanna talk about?”

I shrug, taking a sip. “I mean, I figured I’d get some insider knowledge.”

He chuckles, shaking his head.

I set my mug down and reach for my camera, pulling it from my bag.

Jackson raises a brow. “You travel with that?”

“Yeah.” I lift it to my eye, framing the lake. “I like taking pictures of things that feel important.”

Click.

The shutter snaps.

Jackson watches me, curious. “How long have you been into photography?”

I hesitate, adjusting the lens. “A while. I just… I don’t know. It’s a hobby.”

“A serious one?”

I meet his gaze. “Maybe.”

Something shifts in his expression, but before I can overthink it, he nods toward the camera. “Let me see.”

I hesitate, then pass it to him.

He looks at the photo of the lake, his thumb brushing over the screen. “You’re good.”

My chest warms. “Thanks.”

He glances at me, serious now. “I mean it, Ivy. I meant what I said last night. I’m gonna support you any way I can.”

I swallow hard.

I think he means it.

But he’s going to have to show it.

We drive in comfortable silence to the train station.

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