Page 95 of Interference
My nerves immediately settle. “Oh. Yeah. Of course. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”
“Thanks, buttercup.”
When we hang up, I change directions, heading toward the library. When I get there, Brett is waiting outside for me, a tea in his hand.
“Thank you.”
“Of course. Let’s head inside. I got us a study room.”
“We are studying? Or is this a kink of yours? I don’t want to get kicked out of school. I’m sure they have cameras.”
He snorts. “No, baby. We aren’t having sex in the library, but good to know your mind is always in the gutter. Come on. I’ll show you.”
I follow him inside to the room he has reserved. His laptop is set up with two chairs on one side of the table. He helps me sit in one, adding a cushion to the seat for my comfort, before he takes the other.
Then he wakes the computer up. On the screen is a nearby high school.
“What is this?” I ask him.
“I need to plan what I am doing after this, and I want your input. I know that you want to stay close to here and work with Irina, right?”
I nod. “Irina said she is going to hold a spot on the team for me next year. It’s my senior year, so it’s the last chance I have to work with her, but she did mention that she is thinking about starting her own rink close by. If she does, I’d like to continue to work with her.”
“Okay, so these are my options. This is the high school closest to here. It has a decent hockey program. I can be an assistant coach to the team and teach one subject. Right now, they have a weight-lifting class available. I would only have to go to work for practice and two days a week when I teach classes,” he tells me.
“Wait. What?”
He looks over at me. “When I graduate, I’ll have my teaching degree. I mean, technically I could already have it, but with being medically redshirted last season, I had to take a couple of bullshit classes to be eligible, but yeah. So I can teach whatever I want, but this school seems to have the best schedule. Between us, Wyatt, Cora, Grace, and Peyton, we can make sure the baby is always taken care of.”
I sit in shock as I look at him. How did I not know that his degree was in teaching? Have I really been that far into my own shit that I never even asked him? Does he even know what I’m going to school for?
“What am I going to school for?” I ask him, suddenly needing to know.
He gives me an odd look. “Sports medicine.”
I am such a shitty person. I can’t believe he knows what I’m studying, but I had no clue about him. I make a mental promise to be better for him. He deserves so much better than what I’ve given him.
“What are your other options?” I ask him, not wanting to dwell on my sudden emotions.
“This is Bartlet Academy. It is closer to Boston, so I wouldn’t be able to live quite as close, but we could get a place halfwaybetween the two and commute. They have an opening for the head coach of their hockey team, and they would let me teach whatever class I want. Coach actually recommended me to them when I told him this is what I want to do.”
“Is that what you want to do?” I whisper to him.
“Teaching has always been a passion of mine. Even when we were younger, I would take the newbies under my wing and try to help them get better. I think it’s my calling. Would you be okay with that? Being with a teacher-slash-coach?” he asks, pushing my hair from my face.
“I don’t care what you do as long as it makes you happy. I don’t want you to settle for the closer job because it would make our lives easier. If you want the academy, take it. We will make it work.”
He smiles warmly at me. “I want you. You make me happy. Everything else is just extra on the side.”
“You’re going to make me cry,” I warn him.
“Don’t. Please. I can’t stand to see you cry. Listen, I do like Bartlet Academy, but I would be in a contract with them, and I’m not sure I want to be locked in. Once you get picked up for the Olympic team, we will need to travel a bit more, and I want the flexibility with that. I’ve talked to Horner High, and the principal is excited to have me on board. Said the job is mine if I want it, and that when the time comes, they will gladly find someone to cover me while I follow you across the world.”
“It’s France. It’s like an eight-hour flight if we go direct,” I tell him, rolling my eyes.
“Wherever it is, I’ll be there with our little cabbage, cheering you on as you win gold.”
“You’re too much,” I tell him, leaning over to press my forehead to his.
