Page 32 of The Run Home
“What thing?”
Kinsley elaborated, disdain dripping. “His voice has this weird tone to it, like he’s about to crack an inside joke that only you and he know about. He did it with the pretzel lady yesterday. She gave us two-for-one buckets of pretzels. They weren’t having a two-for-one sale. I looked.”
Boon twisted, pointing out various things on the field for the reporters. He even turned in our exact direction, but must not have seen us because he spun back to the reporters with that teasing tone Kinsley was talking about.
“We have a lot of work to be done to turn this program around, but I’m in it for the long haul.” He winked. “If I can’t get us that state championship, no one can.”
Disgusted with the showboating, I patted Kinsley on the back and hustled to my classroom. His own daughter didn’t exist in his bubble when he was busy impressing reporters and outsiders. That man only cared about his image, and I’d do well to remember it.
A sliver of politeness?
Forget about it. He didn’t deserve my good manners.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Boon
Somethingabout that outing with Kinsley this weekend had changed an element in my brain. I think it had something to do with connecting with my daughter. She didn’t hate me that day. Shae had given me great advice and I’d acted on it, which had brought a genuine smile to Kinsley’s face. I’d missed that smile.
Ever since I announced my retirement, I felt like a failure. Okay, maybe not a failure. I was too pretty to hit true rock bottom. But I’d felt adrift. Unsure what my purpose was. Unexcited about the future. To make it as a professional athlete, I had to have impeccable goals and laser focus. Since retiring, I hadn’t had a clear picture of my goals. But I’d hit on something Sunday at that shopping mall that gave me the same high as executing a double play in the World Series.
And I’d always been addicted to that feeling.
I’d called up every reporter from my past that night, along with newspaper contacts and even a few celebrities I’d rubbed elbows with. My vision was now clear: make Blueball HighSchool’s baseball team a badass contender in the state and rekindle a real relationship with my daughter. The press had come out immediately to see the field and run an article on the professional baseball player turned small-town high school coach. I gave them the razzle-dazzle and they’d eaten it up. With press coverage, came sponsorships, which then led to better equipment, better training, and ultimately a better team.
That taken care of for the day, I taught a health class, shamelessly persuaded the principal to consider putting a new baseball field in the budget over the next five years during lunch, and then headed to Shae’s classroom during fifth when she had a free period. I’d overheard her and Lydia hissing back and forth about something as they left the break room. I’d followed behind and shamelessly eavesdropped. When I heard what they were talking about, I was pissed.
She was hunched over her desk in a schoolmarm sweater, red pen in hand, glasses on the tip of her nose. She glanced up and those thick eyebrows gathered together when she saw me. Her lips were glossy and pink, like she’d swiped on lip gloss after eating her lunch. I was all too aware of the privacy of the empty classroom.
“Come to bully me in our adulthood too?”
My eye roll would have impressed Kinsley. “How many times do I have to tell you? I didn’t bully you.”
I walked over, standing on the other side of her metal desk and leaning my fists on it. She straightened, pushed her glasses back up her nose, and peered up at me like I was a roach on her microscope.
“Potato, pot-ah-toe,” she countered.
God, she was infuriating. I was sure my next statement would make her just as mad.
“Listen, you need to cancel your date.”
She sputtered, her lips flapping together.
“Shae. I’m not kidding. You need to cancel that date Friday.”
Her mouth popped open and she shoved her chair back, hopping to her feet. “Excuse me? You don’t get a say in my dating life. And what kind of menacing meddler eavesdrops on a private conversation like that?”
I rounded the desk, needing her to fully understand where I was coming from. I spread my hands wide. I swore I was coming from the very best place with this demand.
“Listen—”
“Stop saying listen and say something worth listening to!” she snapped.
My eyes went a little crazy, and I had to take a deep breath to calm my shit. “I know plenty of guys on that hookup app. They’re all assholes. Every single one of them. They’re only about getting that one thing, no matter the cost, no matter who they hurt to get it.”
Shae lifted her chin and stepped so close I could count the number of eyelashes behind those glasses. Her eyes were spitting fire, but when she spoke, there was only ice. “Have you ever considered that Iwantthat one thing?”
And just like that, every nerve ending I’d told to calm their shit over the last two weeks being around Shae again flared to life. Practically smoldered with some stupid desire to shove her against the wall and show her what a fucking idiot her ex-husband was.
