Page 27 of Romancing My Grumpy Goalie

I hold back a sigh of frustration and clench my jaw. No matter how hard I try, it’s never good enough. “I can do better with that.”

“Perfect. Also, I had a chat with Mike. It’s not looking good at all. I’m not sure you’re making enough progress to get you back to Atlanta.

“What do you expect me to do? Mike said if I push harder, I could lose months of progress. I don’t want to reinjure myself.”

“I get that, but there has to be something we can do. Are you doing all the assigned exercises?”

“I never miss.”

“What about water? Are you drinking enough?”

“I have an alarm on my phone that reminds me to drink water.” I climb out of my truck and close the door.

“Are you getting enough sleep?”

Well, until I met Anabelle, I was. Now I’m tossing and turning.

He must sense my hesitation because he says, “Make sure you’re going to bed on time and getting up at the same time every day.”

“I’ve been doing that for years.” I walk up my porch steps and unlock the front door. The downside to this house is no garage.But it barely snows in Maple Creek, so it’s not that big of a deal. Although the frost on the windshield can be annoying.

“Look, I’m trying to come up with everything I can think of. Atlanta’s scouts already have their eye on another goalie. If we can’t see some improvement, you may lose your chance.”

I go inside and toss my stuff on the couch. “What about the mentorship? I thought the entire point of it was so I can get back to Atlanta.”

“It’s part of the big picture, sure. But if we can’t get better progress with Mike, then the mentorship won’t be enough. But keep it up. Comebacks don’t wait. If you want this, you have to fight for it.”

I slump on the couch next to my pile of stuff. “Roger that.” My stomach growls. I have spaghetti waiting for me in the fridge. Maybe it’s time to clean up my diet.

I hang up with Tommy, and a text from Anabelle vibrates.

Anabelle: Thank you for being so kind to Nolan today.

I scoot my phone across the coffee table, creating distance. I can’t stomach thinking about the pain that the kid is going through.

Because it’s hauntingly familiar.

And yet here I am. Three weeks into this mentorship gig, and somehow this messy little trio has become part of my routine. Soccer practice. Boutique talk. Ice cream outings.

It’s not only Nolan who’s growing on me.

And Anabelle?

She’s becoming dangerous in all the quiet ways. The way she smiles when she thinks I’m not looking. The way she lights up when Nolan says something funny. The way she looks at me like she sees past the walls I’ve spent years building.

I don’t know how this happened.

But I do know it’s getting harder to pretend I don’t want more.

NINE

ANABELLE

The night iswarm for April, and my dad mans a grill full of hot dogs and burgers in my parents’ backyard, distant and quiet, like he’s been since my divorce.

“Mom, can I swim?” Nolan asks me.

“That pool will be freezing,” I say.

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