Page 20 of Third and Ten

“And Ethan is on board with this? I’m only asking because it does help, given his age.”

Ethan and I talked about our situation over the weekend while he was laid up with a sprained ankle. He seemed optimistic about the transfer of guardianship, though he needed additional reassurance of my plan to stay with him in Camellia for the indefinite future.

“Yes, he is,” I answer shortly.

Blake jots down some notes after peering at a calendar. “I think we’ll be able to get you in for the initial hearing within a month. I’ll have Jada give you a call as soon as we get on the court docket. We’ll need Ethan there, and it probably wouldn’t hurt if you could bring your mom or someone else close to the family who could serve as a reference. Maybe even someone well known in the community, like Dr. Simms?”

“I’ll try.”

“Some additional routine advice I give to all my clients in your situation: It’s best to lie low and be careful what you share on social media for now. You wouldn’t want any unbecoming photos to surface, or for you to get pulled over for a DUI, get arrested in a bar fight.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Not that I think you’d have a problem with any of that, of course. It’s just my job to advise you against it.”

“Got it.”

He finishes his notes, punctuating the last bit with a dramatic flourish of his pen. “Do you have any other questions for me?”

I ask him about a medical consent form, since it came up during last Friday’s ER trip, and thank him when he promises to draw up the paperwork.

He stands, offering his hand again. “I’m happy to help. Ethan’s a great kid, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure this works out for you guys.”

“I appreciate that, Coach Blake,” I say as I shake his hand. “How exactly did you end up with that title, anyway, since you don’t work at the school?” I curse myself as soon as I blurt out the question, realizing where I’ve accidentally led the conversation again.

He crosses his arms and smirks. “Well, I suppose you might recall that I played football in high school, too.” He’s fishing, since he knows I’d remember supplying his water when he’d been the starting quarterback. “Although I wasn’t as talented as my brother, I helped him train over the years. And I’d just finished law school around the same time he got the head coaching position, so he asked me to come on as an offensive assistant. I guess he still needed me around, you know, to keep him out of trouble.”

I laugh politely. “Right,” I say as I look away, only for my eyes to land on the small plaque adorning one of the framed LSU jerseys.

Joseph Drake “JD” Bourgeois, III

Maybe I could start a drinking game while I’m home. Except, if I were to take a shot every time someone mentioned JD, I’d be walking around drunk all day.

I blink a few times and turn my attention back to Blake when he speaks. “It’s funny how some of us who couldn’t wait to get out of Camellia have found our way back, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I reply carefully. “I guess it is.” I can’t help but feel like Blake is scrutinizing everything I say, though I’m unsure why. Maybe he just exudes these skeptical lawyer vibes all the time now.

He nods and walks out from behind his desk, gesturing for me to go ahead. “It’s not so bad, you know,” he says over my shoulder, guiding me with a hand on my back as we reach the door to his office.

“What?”

To my dismay, his proximity throws me off-kilter for a second. But I’m not attracted to or intimidated by him; I just don’t care for his invasion of my personal space. I glare at him, and he drops his hand and allows me to cross the threshold alone.

“Living in Camellia, I mean. It’s nice. We all sort of have each other’s backs. I don’t know about you, but I missed that when I left.” He attempts to save face with his explanation, shooting me a wide but artificial-looking grin, complete with some of the most perfectly white teeth I’ve ever seen. I can’t help but note how different he looks from his brother in this moment, his smile contained to the bottom half of his face, when JD’s seems to spread so that even his eyes crinkle on the sides.

But I’m not supposed to be thinking of his brother right now—or at all.

I force my lips to form my own polite almost-smile in response. “Yeah, I could see that. Everyone’s been so nice since I’ve been back, and we’ve had a lot of help with Ethan and my dad. Hopefully I can return the favor by ushering in the next generation while I’m here.”

His eyebrows shoot up questioningly, and I realize how awkward that sounds. “You know, by delivering babies,” I add, trying to save us both the embarrassment. But he only blinks a few times, still confused. “I’m a midwife, Blake. That’s why I work with Dr. Simms.”

“Oh, right, yes.” He finally catches on, to everyone’s relief. “I heard ‘nurse practitioner’ and figured family medicine…but yeah. That makes sense,” he adds, stumbling over his words. It’s slightly entertaining to watch him squirm, until it dawns on me that he might think I meant making babies with someone, maybe even his brother, and now I’m thinking about that and—

“Nope, certified nurse-midwife,” I reiterate with a light chuckle, forcing all thoughts of JD from my brain again. “Bring me all the babies, but like, everyone else’s, not my own.”

Ugh. This whole ship is going down now.

“Same, but you know, with teenagers—for football.” He cringes when he realizes that he’s only making it worse.

It’s time to get out of there before I say anything else dumb or am forced to think about a Bourgeois brother again. I’ve certainly had enough for one day. “Yeah, well, thanks for everything,” I begin, trying to make it back to the waiting room.

“Of course, glad to help. Just make sure you get your contact info to Jada here, and she’ll give you a ring as soon as we get that court date set up. Or give us a call if you have any questions before then.”

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