Page 25 of The Keeper
“Our time is up,” he says curtly, rising from his chair.
I’m confused about his suddenly gruff response for a brief moment before it hits me – he thinks I’m talking about him, about his past. Without the context of my family he couldn’t know what I meant.
“Mack, I didn’t…”
“It’s Coach McIntosh, Rachel. Please remember that in the future.” His eyes have turned glacial, and he’s looking through me, not at me.
“Please, if you would just let me explain I can…”
“I don’t need an explanation, Rachel.”
“Stop calling me Rachel!” I shout. Then I drop my voice and glare at him. “So this is how it’s gonna be, huh? Now that there’s some sort of power dynamic, you’re going to use it shut me out before letting me explain? You have to…”
“I don’t have to do anything,” he cuts me off again.
I grab my duffle bag off of the floor and sling it around my body with a huff, holding the strap at the front. I see Mack’s eyes drop to my wrist, to the jelly bracelets that I haven’t taken off since Saturday. His shoulders drop.
“If you would have let me finish,” I spit out, “I could explain to you that I was talking about the destruction my drunk of a father left in his wake. It hadnothingto do with you.” His eyes fly to mine and I see the shock in them. My nose prickles as tears begin to build in my eyes. “See you this afternoon at practice,Coach McIntosh.”
And then I’m out the door and rushing down the hallway.
Chapter Four
“Aren’t you supposed to be at practice?”
I ignore Charlie’s question and bolt past her up the stairs, slamming the bathroom door closed, then stripping quickly and stepping into the shower. Placing my palms flat on the tile, I lean forward and let the hot water hit my face and cascade down my body. Warm water on the face has always been the quickest way to ward off tears. I haven’t allowed myself to cry since freshman year, and I’ll be damned if I let a guy ruin that record.
Five minutes later, I barely hear the soft knock at the door. I know Charlie wants to ask questions and I’m not really sure I want to answer them. The sound of the toilet lid dropping and a softthunkindicates that she’s taken up her usual spot and won’t be leaving. Ignoring her isn’t going to work.
“He’s my coach, Char,” I finally sputter out, the tears brimming even though I’ve been willing them away. “He’s the new soccer coach for Glendale. And I know, Iknowthat it’s way too fast, way too soon to let my heart get this emotionally involved. I don’t let my heart get involved. I’m not this person. We went ononedate. We kissed one time. ButGod,there was something special there. Something really special. And you know I don’t say something like that lightly. I don’t know what to do with myself now. I don’t know…” I take a shuddering breath. “I don’t know if I can go to practice every day and have him watching me and critiquing me in some cold, robotic manner, like we aren’t anything. Like it didn’t mean anything.”
There’s silence, and I know Charlie’s trying to put together her response. For someone as quick witted as her, she takes an awfully long time to formulate a response to something important.
“Hey, what do you…” I start to draw back the shower curtain, and all of the color drains from my face when I don’t see Charlie sitting in the bathroom. It’s Mack. His forearms rest on his knees, his hands clasped together, his eyes trained on the floor.
I slam the shower curtain closed. “What thefuck, Mack! You can’t be in here! Get the hell out!”
“RJ, I just wanted to…”
“No!” I shout, cutting him off mid sentence. “You donotget to show up at my house and sit in my bathroom while I take a shower.” I bring my hands up to my face and press the heels of my palms into my eyes. “God,I thought you were Charlie!” I take a deep breath. “You need to leave,now.”
I hear him stand and open the door. “I’ll be waiting downstairs when you’re done,” he says softly, and then the door closes behind him.
I can’t even formulate a physical or emotional response to the fact that Mack was just sitting in the bathroom while I essentially poured my heart out to him. I said that stuff. All of the… feelings. He heard them. And now he’s going to wait downstairs? I feel like I’m watching emotional table tennis. My head is flying back and forth. Anger, sadness, anger, sadness.
Right now, it isdefinitelyanger. I roughly switch off the water and rip back the shower curtain, wrap myself in a towel and storm out of the bathroom. Walking down the hall, I see Charlie sitting on the floor of her room on the phone.
Her face pales when she sees my expression. “I gotta go,” she whispers into the phone, then quickly ends the call.
“What the hell were you thinking?” I growl at her through gritted teeth.
“I didn’t realize you were in the shower, RJ. I thought you just went up to your room. And then he shows up all puppy dog face and I thought he was here to make you feel better. I told him to head up. I’m so, so sorry!”
I just glare at her, dripping all over her carpet.
“What happened?” she whispers.
My face falls and the emotional table tennis is back. Sadness consumes me. “He’s my new coach,” I whisper.
