Page 113 of Coach Me
Will appears next to me, as I’m sure he heard his sister’s name. “What’s going on?”
Kate starts waving her hands as she speaks, and I know I’m about to get nothing but excuses. “It happened so fast, I don’t know. Lucie ran into this guy…her dad or something…”
“Her dad?” Will echoes. I can hear the struggle in his voice. While I want to comfort Lucie at the moment, I need to know where my son is.
“Miles, Kate. Where is Miles?”
Kate practically shrinks in front of me. “He’s…missing.”
It’s a weird thing, feeling panic and fear. In this moment, I feel them both so immensely that it’s physically painful. Almost as if I’m being choked or strangled. Missing. My son is missing.
“Explain. Now.”
“I’m trying to!” Kate whines and throws her hands up in the air.
“No, stop that. Do not play the victim. Do not tell me anything other than what happened. I don’t care about the outside circumstances around it right now. I want the truth and I want it now.”
Kate swallows hard. “We were walking to our seats from the concession stands when Lucie ran into this guy. She called him Dad, but she looked terrified?—”
“Fuck,” Will mutters next to me. I want to acknowledge it, I do, but my son holds priority right now.
“Well, I told her I would take Miles over to the side so she could have a moment alone…but then I got this call from Cedar and Park that I’ve been waiting weeks for…” My glare says every bit of I don’t fucking care, and Kate sighs. “I don’t know, Dex, he was just gone.”
My body goes rigid with terror.
“Fuck!” I yell and storm past Kate and the security guard. I don’t care if I’m on the job. I don’t care that it’s the start of the game, and Olsson knows that.
Storming through the hall, I don’t know where to start but, fuck, I’ll tear this place apart if it means finding Miles.
In my rage, I don’t hear the cleats running up behind me until Will’s right next to me.
“What are you doing?” I snap. I can storm out and most likely get away with it, but Will’s supposed to be pitching tonight.
Will doesn’t stop, he doesn’t tell me to slow down or take a deep breath. He simply matches my pace. “After hearing that two people—who are very important to me—need help, someone else can fucking pitch. We’ll find him, Dex…more likely Lucie will, but you’re getting my help either way.”
All I can manage is to nod back to him. After we find Miles, I’ll tell him how fucking much this means to me, but for now I have to find my son.
“Wait for me!” Kate calls. “He’s my son too, you know. I’m just as upset as you.”
I don’t stop. I physically can’t, so I just holler over my shoulder, not caring if I sound like an ass. “I’m well aware, but this is not the fucking time to play the martyr. Pull your head out of your fucking job and help look for him.”
We burst through the first set of doors. I reach for my phone to try to call Lucie, but not a single call will go through with the number of people here. I manage to get aWhere are you?text to go through, but I can’t sit around and wait for her to answer.
We’re getting closer to where it’s going to get majorly crowded, and fans stopping us constantly is going to be a nightmare. I turn to Kate. “Did you at least talk to Lucie before finding me?”
She makes this hurt look on her face, but when she notices me not giving a fuck, she sighs. “Yeah, she knows. I thought Miles might have gone back to her, but he wasn’tthere. She said she was going to start looking, and I came to you.”
Will pulls his ball cap off and adjusts it, pulling it lower like that will help distract from the fact that he’s in full uniform. “Okay, you’re not going to like what I’m about to say, but listen before you freak out. We need to check medical. Growing up, it’s where I always told Lucie to go if we ever got separated during games. I’m sure Lucie told Miles the same thing.”
“Let’s go.” Nodding, I follow Will but keep my head on a fucking swivel looking for any glimpse of Miles or Lucie.
When we reach the first aid and medical room, and I don’t see either, my heart sinks even deeper into my stomach. A thousand scenarios have run through my head, and with each passing minute, they just get worse and worse.
“Has anyone seen—” I start announcing to the room, but a woman steps up to us immediately. She seems like the one running the show with her clipboard handy and a badge hanging from her neck.
“Mr. Larsen, while I want to say it’s a pleasure to meet you, I wish it were under different circumstances. Unfortunately, we haven’t seen Miles. Your nanny?—”
“My girlfriend.” The correction comes out involuntarily. Now isn’t exactly the time to get all territorial, but hearing “nanny” doesn’t feel right.
