Page 91 of The Girlfriend Zone

Perks of being a pro coach, I suppose.

I down another thirsty gulp of my tea, then sigh. “I think the tea is working—finally,” I say, but my voice sounds dead tired to me.

That’s no good.

“Rough night?” Dad asks.

“I barely slept, but the guys and I have a shoot today with senior dogs from Little Friends. It’s for the rescue’s campaign to highlight overlooked older pups. Worth it, but whew, I need more caffeine.”

“Is it the futon? Those things are the devil’s work,” he says.

I crack my neck, shifting it side to side. “I wish it were the futon.”

He shoots me a sympathetic look. “What is it then?”

After a semi-truck-size yawn seizes me, I blurt out all my frustration. “I’ve become their mediator,” I say, then tell him all about my roommates’ constant bickering.

I leave out the dirty details.

When I’m done, there’s a serious look in his dark blue eyes. He’s quiet for a beat, and I can tell he’s devising a plan. His coach mindset runs deep in him. His strategic mind never rests. He takes a fortifying drink of the coffee, then sets it down on the bench. “I know you want to make it on your own, and I respect that, but this situation sounds miserable. What if Ihelped with rent? You could find a place you actually like.”

My heart tugs. His offer is so ridiculously tempting. “Thanks, Dad. Let me think about it, but at first blush, I still think I need to do this whole life thing on my own.”

I switch to sign language because this feels intensely personal.Know what I mean?

His smile is kind, a touch sad.I do know.

He taught me how to navigate the world. He gave me the skills and the faith. Now it’s up to me to show that I can do that—carve out a life for myself. I don’t know what the future holds; no one does of course. But I know I need to be independent. And I know, too, that he respects that.

He wraps an arm around my shoulders and squeezes. I set my head on his shoulder, feeling safe for the moment, like I did growing up.

But even though I know deeply that I can always count on him, I need to be certain, too, that I can always count on myself.

28

HE’S GOT THIS

Miles

As I pop in my contact lens in the morning, I’m mentally running through my schedule for the next couple weeks. Mom’s dog-sitter, Dania, sprained her ankle freeing a stuck cat from a curtain, so Charlie and I offered to handle the dogs during the cruise. We’ll trade off taking the hellions based on my travel schedule—the dogs arrive this afternoon, I take off in two days for a road trip, then I’ll have them again for a few more days when I return. It’s a lot but it’s doable with the two of us.

There’s just that day after I return from the road trip when I’ll need to hustle up to Charlie’s home, which is an hour away. I’ll have to get the critters so she can deal with her stuff, but I’ll be cutting it close since I have a luncheon with a sponsor. Tyler offered to help out if I need it. But I can probably get on one of those dog-sitter apps and find someone to transport them.

Yep. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll download an app when myeyes are in. I uncap the left lens as my phone trills. It’s Charlie. She never calls—always texts. This can’t be good. I swipe to answer, blinking away the sting that comes with the first lens of the day.

“What jail are you in, and how quickly do you need me to find a lawyer?” I ask, half joking, but already on edge.

“I’m in expansion jail. And if you can find my business lawyer, that’d be great.”

There’s definitely something wrong. I straighten, turning away from the contact lens case. I’ll put the other one in after this call. “What’s going on?”

“So, you know how we were going to share dog-sitting duties for the four horsemen of the apocalypse?”

“Yes,” I reply, already wary. I know where this is headed.

“I have to go to Los Angeles to oversee the expansion there. Some issues with permits and stuff. I’m so sorry.”

I drag a hand down my face. “Shit.”

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