Page 49 of Coach Me
Dex simply nods. While it might seem like he’s slipping back into his stony self, I think I got a little chip in there.
Coming back to my plate, I stay quiet, not wanting to push him any further, but then he appears next to me with two mugs in hand.
Dex slides one to me. “Thank you for that.”
“It was nothing, really. I’ll try not to always use Callie as my scapegoat, but hey, it worked.”
Dex and I both look over to Miles as he shoves a forkful of waffle in his mouth.
“Honestly, I’m a little mad I didn’t think of it myself.” A small corner of Dex’s mouth turns up, but he tries to hide it with a sip of his coffee.
My stomach turns in knots. He hasn’t stepped back like he usually does, and his closeness threatens to bringgoosebumps to my arms. Maybe I can dig into this stone wall a little deeper.
I keep my voice light and easy. “Eh, you got a lot on your plate, Coach.”
Dex makes a small grunt and sets his coffee down on the counter. “Right, well…” He trails off as he walks back over to inspect the stuff by the coffee maker.
Crap, I went too far. So, nicknames are a no-go. I thought it was lighthearted. Dang it.
I know one step forward and two steps back can seem counterproductive, but if you look at the big picture, we still took a step. Maybe I can recover.
Walking to the tray I left on the other side of the counter, I grab the two sugars I brought up.
Deep breaths.
“Dex.” When he turns, I hold up the packets. “Two sugars, right?”
I don’t get a smile, but a small nod and a moment of those brown eyes meeting mine. “Yeah, that’s right.”
Chapter 17
Dex
I don’t know what I’m doing here. After this morning, I’m not convinced I’ve ever known what I was doing because I’m a thirty-six-year-old single dad with a job I shouldn’t have taken in the first place. And I’ve, for some reason, hired the first girl I’ve been attracted to in so damn long who called me “Coach” after getting us breakfast. I’m pretty sure I’ve had a semi ever since.
And now I’ve been keeping a healthy distance from her because of it. I keep thinking that space will help, but it’s been ten days since I found out Lucie was the girl from the coffee shop, and I’m pretty sure she’s surprised me more than Kate ever did in our five-year marriage.
Letting go of this attraction to her feels impossible; each small interaction with her carries with me for hours. Her getting us breakfast and then getting Miles to eat—that’s normally a fight every single day. Starting off the day arguing with my son sucks, but that didn’t happen this morning.
Lucie packed his backpack to take to the stadium. She helped him brush his teeth so I could work out the hotelissues with Shannon. Lucie asked questions when she felt they were important, like making sure she fixed Miles’s hair right, but otherwise, she just helped without me having to tell her to.
Getting to the shuttle was a breeze. We were fifteen minutes early with no meltdowns. Then this thoughtful woman turned to me and handed me some coins to give Miles for the fountain while we waited.
For the first time in months—no, probably years—I haven’t had an absolute running wild, stressed to the max pre-game morning. All because of Lucie.
My phone dings in my pocket and I’m really hoping it’s Lucie with another picture of Miles.
Lucie
*picture of Miles sitting next to Beck in the dugout*
She’s sent a couple throughout the day with general updates about what they’re doing. It’s nice, it’s made the low stress of the morning carry throughout the day because I’m not constantly worried about where Miles is or if he’s having a good time.
I know Callie was great with Miles, but it’s different—I’ve been able to focus on my actual job today because of Lucie.
Watching the guys warm up in the bullpen, I look over the hitters on the Astros. Will’s our starter this game, which is definitely a plus—he’s the most consistent while still being able to have a good variety of throws. Between the Astros’ lineup and the fact that I know Olsson wants to try Jordan again this game, we’re definitely going to need a leg up in thebeginning.
“Anderson,” I call.
