Page 189 of Wish You Were Mine
By the time I reached the open doorway to the gym, I caught the best kind of scene—my kids sprinting across the mats like they owned the place, Lucy crouched down to their level, arms wide.
She’d been mid-conversation with a brunette in an Eden Falls warm-up jacket—one of the new freshmen this year—butthe second Tate launched himself at her and Lennon followed, she laughed and caught them both in a hug.
Six years ago, when Lucy had been fresh into her gymnastics retirement and still trying to figure out what to do with her life after college, Coach Chambers had asked her to stick around and help. Now, with her sixth season in the assistant coach position coming to an end, she was ready to step in as head coach.
It was something she’d never even thought to dream of back when we first met, but after only a few practices her first year coaching, it became obvious she’d been born for it.
After hugging each of the kids, Lucy’s gaze lifted over their heads, finding me in the doorway. The moment our eyes locked, her smile softened. And yeah, seeing her look at me like I was still her home after all these years just did something to me every time.
We’d been together six years, married for five of those, and I somehow fell more in love with her each day.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and made my way across the spring floor, weaving around balance beams and chalk dust. When I reached Lucy and the kids, I bent to give her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You smell good,” I murmured.
“Really?” She chuckled. “Hard to believe since I’ve been in the gym all day.”
“Well, you do. You always do,” I said. “Must be the smell of victory in the air.”
“That’s what we’re hoping for.” Her bright blue eyes sparkled as she glanced toward a group of gymnasts packing up for the day.
Conference championships were two weeks away, and while the program hadn’t had a year quite like her own senior season since she graduated, this team was showing some really great promise. And if they kept nailing their routines andputting in the hard work, we were hopeful they’d at least make regionals.
“Think Coach Chambers will loosen up and give these girls the spring break of their college dreams?” I asked, tossing her a wink as the memory ofourspring break experience—New York, Broadway, and a very ill-timed relationship reveal to Theo—made me grin.
“If you mean keeping the regular practices just at a slightly kinder hour of the day, then you know it,” she said, smirking.
I slid my arm around her waist, tugging her closer. “One of these years, we’re going to take a spring break trip somewhere fun.”
“I think that’s out of the cards for us as long as I’m a coach, baby.” She smiled sweetly at me, catching my mock pout before shoving me playfully in the chest. “Lucky for us, we both have all summer off to more than make up for it.”
“True.” I grinned, leaning down to kiss her temple. “Definitely a better trade-off.”
Spending the summers with my family, especially when the kids were so young and constantly changing and growing, was definitely a gift I didn’t take for granted. We were particularly looking forward to spending a week in the Bahamas with my mom and Asher’s family—something I never would have imagined back when everything fell apart.
It was a reminder that even after loss, you can still build new traditions worth holding onto. And after spending so many years watching other families make memories together, it was a dream come true to finally have a family of my own like that.
Were we perfect? Of course not. But our life was pretty dang good.
Lucy and I walked hand in hand out of the gymnastics facility with Tate insisting on carrying Lucy’s bag for her and Lennon bouncing along at my side, chattering about the “bigjump” she was going to show Mommy when she was “big like Tate.”
The drive home didn’t take long as we wound through the familiar streets of Eden Falls and into the neighborhood right next to where I’d grown up. Pulling into our cul-de-sac still gave me that odd mix of nostalgia and gratitude. Nostalgia for all the years I’d spent here with my family and friends. And gratitude that now, my own little family lived here, too—in the house right next door to my childhood best friend and his own little family.
I hit the garage door opener and pulled in, shutting off the engine as Tate and Lennon scrambled out. Lucy grabbed her bag from the back, while I took my time, just watching her in the late-afternoon light.
When I stepped into the house, I was instantly hit with the smell of the lasagna soup I’d tossed into the crockpot this morning. Since Lucy and I both worked, dinner duties rotated. Tonight was officially my night, but since I still had a salad to chop and throw together, I knew she’d be right there helping me out.
Which was always a nice reward at the end of the day.
While Lucy got the kids settled with their playdough at their little table in the corner, I washed my hands and pulled the lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and feta cheese from the fridge.
“Want some help?” Lucy asked, stepping up beside me at the counter.
“I’d love it.”
We chopped in sync, sliding veggies into the big wooden bowl between us. Every so often, we bumped elbows or shoulders, and since I was still addicted to my wife, I didn’t bother pretending it was accidental.
“Careful, Coach,” I said, brushing past her to grab the salad tongs. “You keep getting in my way.”
“Whatever.” She smirked, not looking up from slicing tomatoes. “Pretty sure you’re the one in my way.”
