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No one else heard them. Not my dad. Not Poppy. Not Ian.
But he’d walked closer to the bleachers between plays and saw something on my face. With a few steps, he erased the distance between us, propping his hand on the metal surface next to my hip so he could lean closer. “You okay?” he asked, low and urgent.
I blinked, staring at my mom’s profile, waiting for her to look back at me. She didn’t, but I watched in nothing short of wonder as she eased her grip on her purse and took a deep breath.
Ian set a hand on my elbow, and I glanced over at him. His face was bent in concern. “Harlow?”
Eventually, I nodded, shifting my attention to him. Where he waited just to make sure I was okay. Everything inside me was melty and soft and lovely from the way that made me feel. “I’m okay. Just heard something I needed to hear for a while,” I added softly.
He left his hand there while he searched my face. The air thickened between us, and I felt the catch in my belly, the hiccup in my heart rate. What would it be like if I could lean forward and kiss him simply because I wanted to? The thought didn’t linger because he pulled back and smiled that mysterious, subdued little smile.
“Good.”
Eventually, my heart settled, and we watched the rest of the game play out. They came up short by ten points in the end, but compared to the way they’d been demolished during the fall season, every kid on the team bounced over to their bench at the end like they’d won. Sage and the boy who’d caught her touchdown shared a high five, and they all lined up to congratulate the other team.
Sheila and my mom chatted briefly with an older couple sitting close by, grandparents of one of the other players. Ian and my dad spoke quietly next to the field, and I could hear my dad asking questions about some of the jobs they were working on. Poppy hooked her arm through mine as we walked down the bleachers to the turf.
“Got any fun plans this weekend?” Poppy asked as we approached my dad and Ian.
Just as I was about to answer, Coach Scott chose that exact moment to jog over, a friendly smile causing a dimple to pop to the left of his mouth.
“Hey,” he said. “Sage did incredible today. Worked really hard, played tough.”
“Thank you,” I told him. Poppy was watching the interaction with sharp interest, and from behind, I could feel someone else watching, but I didn’t dare look.
“What do you think about dinner tomorrow night?” he asked. “I’d still love to get together and talk about the girls’ team.”
Please, I thought, let’s do this in front of an audience. It really makes it so much better.
At my side, Poppy started pulling her arm from mine. I tightened my grip on her because I wanted witnesses, dammit. What the hell kind of wingwoman was she? To ditch me in a moment like this.
“I, um, I need to check my schedule,” I told him. “I have Sage, you know.”
Coach Scott nodded. “Oh sure, of course.”
Poppy pried my fingers from her forearm and yanked it out of my grasp. “I need to go,” she gestured to my dad and Ian, “talk to them.”
And like a little punk, she walked away with a little wave of her fingers. Scott let out a quiet laugh. “Am I that obvious?”
He was so endearing it was hard to be mad. I squinted, rocking my hand back and forth in the air. “Maybe a little.”
With an unrepentant grin, he tucked his hand into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “I promise, I want to talk about the girls’ league.”
I rubbed the back of my neck because gawd, I could feel Ian’s eyes boring into me.
And of fucking course, that was when Sage approached, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright. “Did you say a girls’ league?” she asked excitedly.
I wrapped her in a tight hug, hoping to derail her. “Kid, you were amazing, I’m so proud of you.”
Sage allowed a kiss on the top of her head, but tugged herself out of my embrace, her eyes locked on Coach Scott. “Are you serious?”
To his credit, he didn’t promise anything, holding up his hands with a laugh. “Just doing some research at first. Believe me, if we get one started, you’ll be the first person I tell.”
“Sweet,” she breathed.
But then he gave me a smile. “But I am hoping your mom will help me a little.”
I gave him a long, level look. Casually gaining a wingwoman of his own. No one could fault this man for finding ways to get his way.
