Page 116 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

“Deal.”

* * *

LAU was kind enough to allow the charity to use their soccer field for the day. It doesn’t hurt that a few of the professors like to hang out at SeaBird after a long week, and Mia knows most of them on a first-name basis. One of which is the sexy statistics teacher, Professor Buchanan. He’s also the guy who convinced Ash to tutor Colt when he first transferred and has connections like nobody’s business. Connections that led to us using the field today. It’s the perfect place to teach a bunch of kids how to kick a ball and what good sportsmanship is.

There are six volunteers scattered around the trimmed grass, including us. Most of them are like me and have a history in athletics. Some even managed to make it a few years playing professionally. The rest of the volunteers have zero experience, like Ash and Mia, but agreed to help out anyway. There’s something about coming together and teaching kids––especially the ones who come from not-so-great home lives––and I’m glad I was dragged here to do exactly that.

As I juggle the ball on my knees, trying to keep it in the air for as long as possible, the parking lot behind the goal begins filling with cars.

I’m not as good as I used to be, but I can still hit ten before the ball is knocked out of reach, and I have to chase after it. Mia laughs and takes a turn juggling the ball but only hitting it twice before it bounces away from her. Meanwhile, Ash takes pictures on her cell and squeals when the ball ricochets off Mia’s foot, almost hitting her in the forehead.

Kids are dropped off one by one, and once they’ve been separated into groups, Mia hands me a whistle and tells me to have some fun.

The kids look at me with wide eyes, hanging on my every word as I teach them how to stretch properly and explain some of the basics.

But the craziest part? It’s the most fun I’ve had in years. And passing along knowledge I’ve somehow picked up along the way is the most rewarding thing I’ve experienced since blowing out my knee in high school.

Seriously. It feels good. Really good.

To be seen.

Appreciated.

Hell, these kids practically worship me. And by the time their caregivers come and pick them up, Mia’s grinning from ear to ear.

When I catch her staring, I point my index finger at her. “Not one word.”

“Not even I told ya so?” she quips.

“Those are four words.”

“You’re a genius, Mia is four words too,” Ash interjects as she gathers the balls on the grass.

I snort and toss a soccer ball at her as Mia leaves me with a knowing grin and starts collecting the orange cones from around the field.

Maybe they’re right.

Maybe I’ll be okay after all.

36

BLAKELY

“Dude, great job,” I say, hip-checking the cute little eleven-year-old named Bridger.

His cheeks turn pink as he drops his gaze to the ground. “Thanks.”

The rest of the group was picked up over an hour ago. And now, it’s only me and Bridge. Well, Mia’s sitting on the grass near the parking lot with her phone pressed to her ear trying to figure out how to get ahold of Bridger’s foster mom, but she doesn’t really count since she’s a little preoccupied.

We’ve been passing the soccer ball back and forth across the field for the past twenty minutes, but it’s easy to see how uncomfortable the kid is from being the last one here. In fact, it breaks my heart. How could someone just forget to pick him up? Like, come on, lady. Have a heart, would ya?

When Bridger catches me glancing at Mia and the nearly empty parking lot, he mutters, “Sorry she’s late.”

“It’s okay. Gives us more time to practice.”

“I can wait by myself,” he offers, kicking at the grass with his hands tucked in his pockets.

“No deal. I’m having too much fun.” I jog a few feet away from him and kick the neon yellow ball at him again. We’ve been working on ball control for the past forty-five minutes, and the kid’s legitimately talented.

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