Page 82 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie
He lets out a long breath. “You kids... I swear, I should be charging extra for all this relationship counseling. Mario was in here yesterday asking if he should text some girl first or wait.”
I blink. “Wait… Mario? No way.”
Coach rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Like I’ve got time for teenage soap operas.” He grabs his pen again. “Bottom line - figure out what’s in your head. Or better yet, get it out. Got it?”
I nod, tension easing just a fraction. “Got it.”
He waves me toward the door. “Go.”
A laugh slips out as I step into the hall. God help me..., my team’s insane. And my head? Still a mess.
But Coach is right. I need to figure this out.
****
“Yeah, mom, I’m fine,” I murmur into the phone, leaning against the kitchen counter. My fingers drum lightly on the granite surface, eyes flicking to the clock. 9:15 pm. “No, seriously..., you don’t have to worry about me.”
Pause. Her voice crackles through the speaker, soft and concerned.
“Yeah..., yeah, they’re fine,” I say, glancing toward the hallway where the kids’ bedrooms are. “They went to bed a while ago. You’ll talk to them tomorrow.”
Another pause. Her words tighten my chest.
“I love you too,” I reply, softer now. “And don’t forget to take your medication, okay? Promise me.”
She sighs but agrees, and I end the call, setting my phone on the counter with a quiet clunk. For a beat, I just stand there, letting the quiet settle over me. The house feels too quiet sometimes. Like everything slows down when the kids are asleep, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Grabbing the book that I’d left on the couch earlier, I flop down and try to focus on the words. But they blur. Figures. My brain’s been fried all day.
“Hey.”
The soft voice makes me glance up. Whitney stands at the edge of the living room, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail, her oversized sweatshirt swallowing her frame.
Why does my heart always do this stupid flip thing when I see her?
“Hey,” I echo, closing the book.
She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, eyes flicking to the phone still on the counter. “Was that your mom?”
“Yeah.” I nod, shifting to make room as she moves to sit beside me. Not too close, but close enough. Her familiar scent floats over - lavender - it’s distracting.
“How is she?” She asks, curling her legs beneath her.
“She’s good,” I say, managing a small smile. “Recovering well. Complains Ruth nags too much, though.”
Which is no surprise… My sister is the queen of nagging.
I lean back against the couch, letting the silence settle between us. Not awkward. Not really. Just..., weighted.
I clear my throat, fingers rubbing at the back of my neck. Just say it, Blake.
“Uh..., listen.” I glance at her, nerves knotting in my stomach. “I…, I gotta apologize. For... what happened at the wedding. The kiss.”
Her gaze shifts to me, lips parting slightly.
“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” I continue, words tumbling out. “I don’t know what I was thinking...! I just - at that moment, it felt like the right thing to do. But..., maybe it wasn’t.” I let out a breath, running a hand through my hair. “I wasn’t trying to confuse things. Or make things weird between us. Just..,. I don’t know. Guess I got caught up.”
Whitney watches me, unreadable. Then she exhales. “Blake…, I get why you did it. You don’t need to apologize…, I mean, you do need to apologize…, I don’t know, I just felt…, kind of…, caught off guard, I guess.”
