Page 48 of Just Like Home

What she wouldn’t have given for one who actually cared enough to be kind.

Marcia would tell her to stop complaining. It wasn’t kindness that got her where she was. As a teacher, her mother certainly subscribed to that theory—and as a mother, even more so.

She drew in a deep breath and pushed open the chain-link fence, making her way out onto the field. It didn’t escape her that she’d drawn the attention of at least half of the football players, something she pretended not to notice. She’d almost reached Cole when he glanced up from his clipboard.

Recognition washed over his face. “Charlotte?”

She smiled, but even she knew it probably looked as forced as it felt.

“You know her, Coach?” one of the lingering players said. “Lucky man.”

Charlotte felt herself blush, but she quickly looked away.

“Matt, would you take the equipment? I’ll be right in.”

“Sure thing, Coach.” The other adult on the field shooed the boys away, leaving her standing in the middle of a circle that had been painted in the grass. With Cole.

“What are you doing here?”

She felt self-conscious. “Lucy said I could find you here.”

His face didn’t budge—not even the hint of a change.

“Can we talk for a minute?”

He tucked a clipboard under his arm. “Actually, I’m heading out to Haven House. Fixing a fence, checking on my nieces and nephew.”

His curt reply flustered her. She quickly recovered. “I actually need to go there too.”

His eyes darted to hers. “Why?”

“Same reason I need to talk to you.”

He stared at her but didn’t say anything, nothing to indicate he was listening or that she could continue.

She let out a slight scoff. This guy was unbelievable. She shook her head—what was she doing here? And how could someone as sweet and kind as Julianna have a brother who was so incredibly horrible? She was embarrassed to think that she’d thought his thank-you text had signaled some sort of friendship between them. He was just as rude as ever.

“Are you going to tell me what this is about?” He looked at her, eyebrows raised.

“They wanted me to ask you—”

“Who wanted you to ask me?” His eyes narrowed, as if he were suspicious of her.

“Uh, a planning committee,” she said, flustered. “For the dance recital.”

He shifted the clipboard from one hand to the other and glared at her. “Okay. That’s not really my scene.”

For some inexplicable reason, she found herself biting back tears. It didn’t matter what thishigh school football coachthought of her. Why did his attitude affect her so much? It’s not like he was a part of her life.

Did she want him to be? The thought of it sent her insides swirling. That stupid teenage crush she’d had might’ve actually morphed into something else, something deeper.

She’d need to get a hold of that before it ran wild.

“Charlotte?”

“What?”

“What do you want?”

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