Page 38 of Just Come Over
It was better for her to be in her own bed than on the couch, that was all. He was helping her get used to things, and it was just for tonight. After that, they’d be fine. One day at a time.
I need to get a carpet down here,he thought.But no rabbits in the house. Absolutely not. Hard line.And fell asleep.
Rhys was always first to training. How would the players care if the coach didn’t care more? On Thursday, though, Finn beat him in, and so did almost a dozen of the players. The skipper, Hugh Latimer, was amongst them. Hugh and his wife had twin babies, as well as two other kids, yet here he was.
Rhys was beginning to get the idea that just getting to work on time, when you had kids, was an accomplishment, what with checking a forest of jungly trees for lurking wild animals, plaiting hair, helping a six-year-old into all the pieces of her new school uniform, cooking breakfast, checking that you’d filled out various pieces of paperwork and she had them in her backpack, and having to wait for her to run back inside, when you’d finally made it into the car for the short drive to Zora’s house, for her sparkly trainers.
“You can wear your school shoes for today, surely,” he’d said.
“Not with myunicornshirt,” she’d said. “Because it has sparkles, and the shoes have sparkles, so they match. You have tomatch.”
Needless to say, he was late. The gym resounded with the clank of metal plates, the soft thuds of impossibly fast feet running intricate patterns marked onto the floor with tape, and the driving beat of the music that kept the adrenaline pumping. He headed over to Finn, who was casting an eye over the squad, each of them going through his own individualized workout routine, and asked, “How’re they going?”
“Not bad,” Finn said, making a note on his clipboard. “Give me a minute, and I’ll fill you in.” He took in Rhys’s appearance, which probably wasn’t anything to write home about, and decided to add, “You look like hell. Family troubles not sorted, then?”
“Not quite.” Rhys passed a hand over his jaw. He’d meant to shave. He hadn’t had time. He had time to say this, though, and he needed to. To everybody, and soon. Why hadn’t he told Finn before, at least? Some kind of magical thinking, maybe, believing that it wasn’t really happening until it actually did. Not a mindset you encouraged, if you were a coach. Or if you wanted to be any kind of man. He said, “I went to Chicago to get my daughter. Her mum died, so she’s with me now. It’s been a bit of an effort to get things in order.”
Finn didn’t actually stare slack-jawed at him. It just felt that way. After a moment, he asked, “Where is she now?”
“School. At least she will be soon. She’s six. Staying with Zora, Dylan’s wife, before and after school. Going to the same school as Dylan’s boy, which is handy.”
“Her first day there?”
“Yeh.” Finn was still looking at him too sharply. “What, I should’ve taken her? I thought that, after.”
“Maybe. Not easy being a single dad, though.”
“You’d know, I reckon.” Finn had been a widower with two kids when he’d met his wife. Now, he had four.
“I’ll ask this,” Finn said, and Rhys braced for it. “When was your last workout?”
Not the question he’d been expecting. He tried to remember, and blanked. Too many travel days and time changes. “A while back.”
“After training, then,” Finn said, “we’ll run ourselves through.”
Rhys said, “I’m guessing that reminding you that I’m meant to be in charge here isn’t going to stop you. Or saying that it’ll have me collecting Casey even later.”
Finn gripped him by the shoulder and shook it. “Nah, mate. It’s not. Also, you’re stiff as iron. How are you going to think like that? There’s no problem that a good workout doesn’t help you solve. You’re not going to be much chop as a dad if you let yourself get unfit and grumpy, and you’ll be even more of a bastard as a coach.”
“Right,” Rhys said. “Fine.” He’d text Zora and tell her six-thirty, and he’d pick up a takeaway for himself and Casey, and something for Zora and Isaiah as well. That would make up for the lateness, he hoped. He hadn’t expected this parenting thing to be so... all-consuming, and it had been, what? A few days?
Spontaneity, he was beginning to realize, was a thing of the past. He’d never thought he had much of that. In fact, though, he’d had heaps. If he’d had somewhere to go or something to do, he’d just gone, or had done it. He hadn’t realized that was unusual.
On the other hand, when he’d crouched down to say goodbye to Casey this morning in Zora’s kitchen, she’d asked him, “Are you coming back?”
He’d said, “Yeh, I am. You live with me now, remember? If you aren’t sure what to do at school today, or if anything bothers you, you can make a note in your mind and tell me tonight, and we’ll make a plan.”
“A statagee.”
“Strategy. That’s right. A strategy always helps.” He’d smoothed a hand over her hair, which wasn’t quite as lumpy today, and given her a kiss that barely felt awkward at all, and she’d put her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his. And he’d thought fuzzily,That’s all right, then,and ignored the way his chest had tightened.
He definitely needed a workout.
Nobody pushed you harder than Finn. At nearly six that evening, when Rhys was sweating freely and doing his third set of pull-ups with an enormous weight chained to his waist, everything else was gone from his mind but this fairly extreme moment. And when he dropped to the ground at last, unclipped the weight, and put it back on the stack with arms that shook, he said, “That’s why I retired, you sadistic bastard.”
“Nah,” Finn said. “Good for you. Last one.” He headed over to a set of inclined benches, hooked his legs under, and started doing crunches, and Rhys wiped his face on the bottom of his T-shirt and followed suit.
“So your daughter’s six,” Finn said, curling his upper body off the bench yet again. “From Chicago.”
