Page 85 of The Coach

Ivy: Little bit of both.

Jackson: You like having a secret, don’t you?

Ivy: I think you do too.

Jackson: Guilty.

Ivy: Well, enjoy it while it lasts. Won’t be a secret forever.

Jackson: I know. Kinda looking forward to it not being a secret, actually. I mean at some point.

I pause, staring at the screen. That wasn’t what I planned to say.

But it’s the truth.

Her reply comes a few seconds later.

Ivy: Me too. And…I’m looking forward to seeing you Monday.

Jackson: Yeah?

Ivy: Yeah.

A slow grin spreads across my face.

Jackson: You miss me?

Ivy: Goodnight, Jackson.

I laugh, tossing my phone onto the couch.

Jackson: Sweet dreams, Emerald Girl.

I stare at the ceiling for a long time after that.

I should be focused on the game.

But here I am, thinking about Monday.

Thinking about her.

Looking forward to seeing her.

The game in San Francisco is on West Coast time, so it’s all I can do to fly back in late with the team to Chicago, and pass out.

Monday, Ivy is teaching during the day anyway, so I don’t rush.

Then, when I finally pull into Riverbend on Monday afternoon, it’s exactly what I pictured—and somehow, not at all.

A historic main street with brick buildings. A few old-school diners and coffee shops. A welcome sign with a corny slogan about “small-town charm.”

The only thing that the town is really known for is that it’s an old train town on the stop from Chicago all the way to Santa Fe.

I slow down at a red light, watching as people walk along the sidewalk, waving at each other. Like they all know each other.

This place? It’s the opposite of everything I know.

I shake my head.

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