Page 7 of Love on the Sidelines

Sometimes I forget that I'm old enough to be an adult. All the responsibility should just be with the actual adults, not the ones like me who still haven't adjusted to the fact that I have to be an adult. I live with my grandma, who is on a fixed income, so I pay most of the bills, but that eats up my paycheck really quickly. That’s enough adulting for me.

Marsha has been a great asset, because she gathers up all the fees and pays for the tournaments. One less thing I have to do and it allows me a lot more time to help the girls.

"What's wrong?" I ask. I scan the field for Sarah, hoping something didn't happen to her. Marsha's daughter is my best player right now. With the competition we'll face this summer, I'm going to need her in the best shape possible.

"Okay, hear me out," Marsha says, placing her hand gently on my arm. It's like she thinks I'm going to turn into a feral animal with whatever she's about to reveal.

"I'm good. Just tell me what you need." I'm not the best with surprises. I once accidentally whacked my dad in the face with my hand because I was so startled by a surprise birthday party. He ended up with a broken nose.

I still wonder if that was the tipping point for why they took off and left me at Gran’s. I wouldn’t change it for the world, but the brain likes to spin theories at random times, and that’s a suspicion I’ve considered a lot over the years.

Marsha takes a breath and says, "I got an email from a guy who just moved to town and he has a daughter who's this age. He's hoping you'll give her a chance."

"That's a relief. I thought you were going to say you'd set up a date for me. As far as the player goes, that's a no. We already have our team. We've been working hard the past few weeks and it wouldn't be right to add someone this late."

Marsha bites her lip and I know there's more.

"So, I figured you'd say that. I've already chatted with the rest of the parents and they agree we should give the girl a chance."

I'm not really sure how to deal with that information. "You went behind my back?" I should be furious, but I'm slightly impressed by her negotiation skills. “What would make them okay with adding one more to the roster, taking playing time away from their daughters?”

"Well, he's offered to cover all the tournament fees, as well as the accommodations for the girls. It's an offer we can't refuse."

I bite the inside of my cheek as I think about this. Some guy comes in and throws money around and expects to get the royal treatment. He’s definitely not someone I can trust.

In college, I’d dated a guy who came from a wealthy family. I thought it would be great until I realized that the money controlled them. His parents would dictate what he could and couldn’t do, and they treated me the same, after they got over the fact that I was on scholarship. Money was the way to get anyone to do anything in their eyes.

Add that to my parents coming into a large sum of money and then taking off to travel the world without me. I still don’t quite get it. I was only a few years away from adulthood. Why didn’t they wait until then?

They sent money to Gran and Grandad every month until I turned eighteen, which helped. But now abandonment is one of my traumas.

Money changes, people, and I do my best to avoid those with a large bank account. It usually ends with less heartache for me.

"I thought we had a bunch of fundraisers lined up to help with costs."

Marsha blows out a breath. "Yeah, we have those, but let's be honest, the families will purchase most of the items, anyway."

I hate that she's right. Fundraising is fine until the family still has to help reach the goals to get whatever discount or cashback is worth it. I'm all too familiar with that scene, as it's the only way I played lacrosse at a higher level.

"Do I get any say in this?" I finally ask, sighing.

Marsha gives me a sad smile. "You get to decide how much she plays."

I raise an eyebrow. "He didn't add that in as a stipulation for donating the money?"

"No, I didn't," a deeper voice says from behind me. I turn to see Pickleball Charlie. "Sorry, I didn’t realize you’d be the coach. Marsha told me to bring Emily here for a tryout practice." Recognition hits him and he frowns. “You coach lacrosse?”

I try to order my thoughts as I'm still surprised at the ambush here.

"Yes,” I say, trying to decide which emotion to feel. Everything is making sense. The “daughter” must be his niece.

“So you're willing to give a ton of money to our team without the guarantee that your niece plays?”

Marsha shakes her head. “No, it’s his dau–”

“We know each other,” Charlie says, giving Marsha a mischievous smile.

He’s an attractive guy, but I have a strict rule that I don't date people related to my players, even if they're a distant second cousin, six times removed. Especially if he’s my brother’s friend.

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