Page 52 of Unbreakable
Coach’s brow scrunched. “This is the first I’m hearing of this? Why aren’t you out there going after her?”
I sighed. “I didn’t think I could just skip out on the team? And besides, I don’t have anyone to help with childcare until my mom gets here tonight.”
Coach shrugged. “We’re going to California. Just get a car when we get there and go get her.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded. “Be back by the L.A. game?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure.”
Coach patted my shoulder. “Wives aren’t a guarantee. You gotta keep that shit locked up.”
Lindberg eyed me as Coach walked away. “You still look like you’re about to yak.”
I flipped a weak smile. “I have no clue how to win her back.”
Jack stood by, stretching his hip flexor and looking pensive. “Let her peg you.”
“What?” Three voices chimed in at once.
“Yeah, it gives her the power,” Jack shrugged. “She can fuck out all that rage.”
“This is simple,” our goalie, Harlan Royce, called from across the room. How the hell did he even hear us? The music wasn’t exactly quiet and I wasn’t broadcasting my situation. He sauntered over from where he’d been running a sled. “You cook?”
“No, no, back to the pegging thing—” Lindberg said, eyeing Jack.
“Wait,” Colton put his hands out. “Who’s Peggy?”
I shrugged, rolling my eyes and responding to Royce. “I mean, I can cook.”
He popped his gum. “Cook for her. What’s she like?”
My eyes searched the floor, like it somehow knew what foods my wife liked to eat better than I did.
Jack did that super awkward stretch of putting your foot on a bench and thrusting your hips forward. A little too close to my face. “Where did you take her on dates?”
That sparked a memory. “Oh! She loved this one fish taco truck.”
“Perfect. Send me their menu and I’ll make you a grocery list for how to make it,” Royce said, sifting his sweaty hair through his fingers. “I’m thinking a citrus salsa with a tomato vinegar reduction for a sauce.”
I shook my head to clear it, fighting the headache building between my brows. “I—yeah, I’m not that good. I can do thebasics. Pancakes. Eggs. Stuff with instructions on it. Jeannie spoils me.”
“There’s your problem right there,” Jack grumbled. I glared at him.
“Fine, I’ll send you a list of premade stuff you can put together,” Royce offered. “But I’ll give you a step-by-step on how to level it up.”
“Easystep-by-step, please. And one meal is not going to fix our problems, anyway,” I groaned. “It needs to be more than that.”
“You ever use Pinterest? The one where you can arrange links all pretty,” Colton chimed in. “Chicks love that shit. I used to have a girlfriend who kept all these mood boards with aesthetics. But they have good date ideas.”
“Or you can just . . . search the internet?” Lindberg said.
“No, but the app gives you the keys to women’s brains. They put on there what they like. I bet Jeanine even has one of her own you could creep on,” Colt said. “Trust me. It’s curated to a woman’s taste.”
“Curated,” Leroy teased. “Look at the single guy giving advice.”
“Says the guy who said to let her peg him,” Royce cut in.
