Page 107 of Courtside

This would be his first year going through recruitment, and he was excited to travel around the country to scout the next class of Southeastern players. Players he would bring to the program.

And, for the next three years at least, it washisprogram. He’d gotten the email midweek from Connie with confirmation that they were offering him not only a contract extension, but a raise to go along with it. It was more than he could have imagined during those long, sleepless nights early in the season.

He’d shared his news with the group, and everyone had been predictably excited for him. But nothing compared to the pride and happiness in Sage’s green eyes when she’d held his face in her hands and whispered, “Fuck yes, Coach,” before kissing him senseless in the middle of the kitchen.

They’d celebrated privately — and very nakedly — later that night.

It was everything he’d wanted, what he’d dreamed about since he’d hung up his green and gold jersey, and yet there was a little feeling of dread that he couldn’t quite shake.

Now, it was the Sunday afternoon before the end of the break, and they were all packing up to make the drive back to Charleston.

Goodbyes and hugs were exchanged, along with promises to plan dinners and an evening at The Grove in the next few weeks.

David leaned against his car as he watched Sage and Rebecca exchange numbers. Sage’s skin had turned a golden tan, and her blonde hair had lightened in the sun. He could easily imagine her on a beach in California, with her cut off jeans and thin-strapped tank top.

Finally they were on the road, with Daisy curled up in Sage’s lap. They were quiet, but it was the good kind of quiet that came after days of constant social interaction and late nights. David was content, perfectly at peace with the way things felt between them. Well, except for the question of the following year.

“So I’ve been thinking about what you said. About coaching.”

Sage glanced over at him. “Okay.”

“I’ve got a buddy who coaches at one of the bigger high schools in Charleston. Their program is good — they’ve been to state almost every year since he started. I’d be happy to call him and -”

“No.” Her face was expressionless, impossible to read as she shifted in her seat to face him.

David took a slow breath, momentarily tightening his knuckles on the steering wheel. “Can I ask why not?”

“I want to earn my spot, David. Wherever I end up, I want to go somewhere that wants me for who I am.”

“What about references?” He couldn’t figure out why she was being so fuckingstubbornabout this. “There’s nothing wrong with using the network that you have. Everyone does.”

“I said no,” she repeated, and a wry, sad smile crossed her face as she shook her head.

David remembered his first year coaching, when he’d been unsteady on his feet, confident in the basketball but totally clueless as to how to relate to the young men who’d barely reached puberty. And in those moments they’d looked at him like he couldn't possibly relate to their lives. Like he couldn’t possibly understand.

That was how Sage looked at him across the console. Like he was missing something obvious that was right there in front of him.

He let out a long huff of air. His hand found her thigh, resting against her skin in a way that had become comfortable and familiar. He gave her a firm squeeze. “Okay, Lefty. Just let me know if you change your mind.”

“I will.”

* * *

They’d gotten home and after grocery shopping and Italian take-out, Sage went back to her place to get some sleep.

Out of curiosity, David pulled up the local job postings for high school basketball coaching positions.

The results were abysmal. Only two postings for varsity women’s programs, and the JV programs paid so poorly that he couldn’t imagine Sage going for it. All of them cited a need for previous coaching experience, which, technically, she didn’t have.

David tossed his laptop onto the couch next to him, burying his face in his hands and letting out a frustrated groan.

The job prospects for her in Charleston weren’t good. There were only two professional sports teams — a soccer team and a minor league hockey team, both small enough that they likely didn’t have many jobs. He’d checked their websites, and they were only hiring janitorial staff.

The thought of Sage Fogerty doing anything other than what she dreamed of doing made him nauseous. Shouldn’t she get the chance to do what she wanted?

And if that chance wasn’t in Charleston, she’d have to leave.

He wouldn’t —couldn’t— be the one to make her stay. Not for him. Not where her entire life and future were waiting ahead of her. It would be selfish.

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