Page 30 of Kellan & Emmett
“Alright now, give Coach K some air. Let the man breathe.” The coach shot Kellan a grin. “So what’s the deal, huh? Did we just luck into a guest coach for the summer?”
The kids made a collective gasp, parents chuckled from the bleachers.
And me?
I held my breath, eyes fixed on Kellan.
Waiting to hear his answer.
Chapter 16
Kellan
Heat pressed down, thick as the noise around me. Kids bouncing at my side, parents watching from the bleachers, Rick’s grin sharp as a spotlight.
Guest coach.The words hit harder than the whistle had. My pulse kicked, a jolt low in my gut, the kind of crossroads moment you couldn’t sidestep.
I’d packed a bag this morning. Stared at it like it might tell me what to do. And now here I was, standing on a field I hadn’t touched in twenty years, a dozen pairs of young eyes waiting to hear my answer.
“Yeah.” My voice wasn’t polished. I didn’t have a speech, or a plan. Just a short, firm breath of a word. “I’ll stick around. I’ll help.”
The kids erupted, voices tumbling over one another. Rick grinned like he’d just won the lottery. Parents nodded from the sideline, easy smiles, approving murmurs.
“We’ll hash out the details on Monday,” he said, dropping his voice so it was for me, not the crowd. “Schedule, paperwork, liability waivers—all that boring stuff. But for now—” He tipped his cap toward the kids still hanging back, waving like I was some kind of pro. “—looks like you’ve already won ’em over.”
Pride flickered sharp in my chest—because this part was easy. Saying yes was easy. Being useful, showing up, putting on the coach’s voice. I knew how to do that.
But figuring out the rest? Where I’d sleep once the money ran out, what the hell my life looked like past this field—none of that was simple.
Through it all, I felt him. The weight of Emmett’s gaze from the bleachers. I didn’t have to look to know he hadn’t moved, hadn’t left. My skin prickled.
Rick blew his whistle again. “Alright, that’s it! Pack it up, we’ll see youMonday[4]!”
Parents started calling out names, voices carrying across the field as kids clattered toward the bleachers.
TThe field emptied in slow motion, or maybe that was just how it felt. Parents shepherded kids toward minivans, voices fading with each slam of a door. Rick’s whistle dangled from his neck, quiet now, a small metallic glint.
Sweat cooled sticky on my back. My hand flexed against my thigh, restless.
And I could feel the weight ofhisstare from the bleachers, steady as a spotlight, pulling at me no matter how I tried to keep my eyes on the field.
Finally, I looked.
Emmett stood, arms folded, his frame angled like he couldn’t decide if he was staying or leaving. He wasn’t scowling, wasn’t smiling either—just watching, the kind of gaze that stripped me down to parts I didn’t know how to hide.
The last kid hollered a goodbye and clattered off, the noise thinning into nothing. For a beat, it was just the two of us across that stretch of grass.
My chest tugged like someone had hooked a fist behind my ribs.
I could’ve walked the other way, could’ve headed straight for the parking lot, let the moment slide like I had a hundred chances before.
But my feet wouldn’t move that way.
A step forward. Then another. Each one too loud in the hush of the field, crunch of gravel carrying, like even the ground wanted to make a damn announcement.
He didn’t move. Just stood there, jaw working like he was grinding back words. Watching me close the space.
And God, if that wasn’t the most terrifying part—because once I reached him, I had no idea what came next.
