Page 33 of Under Southern Stars
“That the ex?” Rodriguez asks.
“Yeah.”
“He looks like he sells NFTs to elderly people.”
Despite my nerves, I laugh. “Crypto, actually. According to his license plate.”
“Even worse.” Rodriguez grabs the coffee carrier from the back. “Come on, Romeo. Time to meet the family.”
We cross the field, and I try not to overthink how Sophia’s shoulders stiffen when she spots us. Or how her smile seems forced.
“Jack.” She stands, and there’s something in her eyes I can’t read. “You came.”
“Said I would.” I hold out the coffee. “Red-eye, blonde roast, extra caffeine. Figured you might need it.”
Her fingers brush mine as she takes it. “You remember my coffee order?”
“I remember everything about you.”
Rodriguez coughs dramatically. “Hi, I’m Luis Rodriguez, the wingman. And you are the famous Sophia Mitchell. Lovely to meet you outside the hospital.”
“Famous?” She shakes his hand, glancing between us.
“Oh yeah. Kiwi here hasn’t shut up about—”
“And that’s enough from you.” I turn to the Tesla couple. “Jack McKenzie. I work with Sophia.”
Troy looks me up and down like he’s calculating my net worth. “Troy Bentley. This is Tiffany.” He doesn’t offer his hand.
The blonde—Tiffany—smiles vaguely. “Are you Madison’s coach? Troy says she needs more focused training to reach her potential.”
“He’s a paramedic,” Sophia says, something sharp in her tone. “A friend.”
Friend. Right.
“Paramedic?” Troy’s expression shifts to barely concealed disdain. “That’s…nice. Important work, I’m sure.”
“Speaking of work,” Tiffany chirps, “Troy’s latest investment in wellness tech is absolutely exploding. We’re disrupting the entire supplement industry. As Martin Luther King Jr. said, ‘Even the smallest person can change the course of the future.’”
I bite my tongue so hard, I can almost taste blood.
“That’s…that’s fromLord of the Rings,” Rodriguez says slowly. “Galadriel. Not…not MLK.”
Tiffany blinks vapidly. “Oh, well, the sentiment still applies to our wellness journey!”
Troy’s face has gone slightly red, but he doubles down. “Tiffany’s very well-read. She’s always finding inspiration in unexpected places.”
“There’s Madison!” Sophia interrupts, pointing to the field. A teen with Sophia’s dark hair is juggling a soccer ball, laughing with teammates.
She’s good. Really good. The kind of natural athlete that makes it look effortless. The thought hits me before I can stop it: she’d be aphenomenalwing in rugby. That explosive speed, the footwork, the spatial awareness. Emma would spot her potential in seconds. I make a mental note to mention it someday, if things ever…progress.
“She gets that from me,” Troy says. “Played in college.”
Rodriguez snorts. “Intramural doesn’t count as Division II, bro.”
I bite back a laugh as Troy’s face reddens. “I’m sorry, who are you again?”
“Luis Rodriguez. Paramedic. My kid’s on the other team. That’s Diego, number 12, right next to that absolutefoxof a coach.” He points to a smaller kid doing keepie-uppies. “Diego got a scholarship to the academy program. They’re already scouting him for the national youth team.”
