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What if this is all a ploy to get me to open up and admit I had a relationship with Charlotte?
Maybe it’s time to sack up and do what I should’ve done to begin with. The only way to change Charlotte’s mind is to go behind her back to the people whose opinions she values most. If their validation is so important to her, then I’d damn well better go out and get it.
Coach
The gymnasium at the rec center is at max capacity with a sea of jersey colors as far as the eye can see, taking up every square inch of floor space. On weekends, we have to take turns with sharing the court, and with two teams already in play, I’m sitting on the bleachers with Jamie, my boys, and their families, waiting patiently for our game to begin.
Rico and Rosario are seated to my left, and Jamie is to my right, three rows up at center court. I can hardly remember the last time Rosario was able to get time off from work to attend a game. It’s nice to see them together. Rico smiles so wide, the dimple in his chin pops as he shows off for his mother by spinning a basketball on his index finger. He loves that trick even though it’s not practical in a game—not unless he grows up to play for the Harlem Globetrotters.
Rosario leans over and clamps her hand down on my forearm. “You’re doing an amazing job with these kids. Rico really loves you and this team. All he talks about when he comes home is how Coach taught him this or Coach is going to show him that.”
For the first time since I walked away from Alex, I flash a genuine smile. “Rico and the kids keep me on my toes. I’m used to dealing with pro athletes and all the drama that comes with them, so it’s nice to switch gears and have fun with the boys.”
“It shows.” Rosario scoots closer and raises her voice over the screaming fans around us, cheering on their teams. “You should come over tomorrow for dinner, if you’re free.” She leans over me, brushing her long dark hair off her face, and says, “You, too, Jamie. The more, the merrier. I’m making mofongo.”
“Ooh, my favorite. I can’t wait. Thank you so much for the invite.” My mouth waters at the promise of Rosario’s cooking. I never really had what most people would consider a home-cooked meal until Rosario invited me over for the first time.
“We’d love to come,” I say. Jamie agrees. “You know I’m not much of a cook, but can I bring wine or dessert?”
She shakes her head as the buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the fourth quarter. “No, just bring yourselves.”
The crowd hums to life as the game ends, and I tell my team to get their gear and start heading over to the bench. Jamie helps me down the bleachers, slinging my gym bag over his shoulder. I love that we can share this together. But I also wish Alex were here as well. No matter what I said to him, I still care.
“Here’s your clipboard, Coach,” Jamie says. He drops the bag on the ground and kicks it under our bench.
I smile and take the board from his hand. “Thank you, Assistant Coach.”
While the boys practice their layups and free throws, we walk over to half-court to watch. Jamie rests his hands on his hips and shakes his head at Rico, who’s attempting the Coach Crossover on Tommy.
“That kid,” Jamie says with a grin.
“I know.” Pride swells in my chest. “He’s still not tall enough to perfect my move, but give it a few more years, and he’s going to be a star. I can already see the makings of a pro baller in him.”
“He wants to be like you, Charlie.”
“Oh, he will have every opportunity. I’ll make sure of it.” I turn to my friend and place my hand on his shoulder. “Talented players don’t come around very often. Rico’s at the age where I can take that talent and mold him into the player he’s going to become. My only stipulation is that he finishes college. Because what good is a pro athlete without an education if they get hurt and have nothing to show for it? That’s why I don’t sign players out of high school, only scout them.”
Being a good agent is all about cultivating talent. Most agents scout players from high school and sometimes even earlier than that. My dream is to coach players like Rico, so I can watch them grow.
“Speaking of talented players, have you heard anything more about Alex?”
“No.” I slide my hand off his shoulder and pull the marker from the clipboard to mark up a few plays before the game starts.
“I can’t believe you paid that reporter to keep tabs on him.” His disapproving tone causes me to look up. “Don’t you think it’s a bit extreme?”
“He’s my client. It’s not uncommon to make sure a player is staying out of trouble. I have other reporters on retainer in different states. How do you think I know when Dante Fisher or Clay Barker steps out of line? Rebecca Stone and I made deals with them to come to us first before they go blabbing about our players.”
“Having someone call you when Dante doesn’t show up on time for practice isn’t exactly news, Charlie. He could stop going to practice for the rest of the year, and his coach would still roll out the red carpet for him. You have the girl from Sports Buzz following Alex around because you miss him, and you want to know what he’s doing. Stop torturing yourself.”
Scanning the court, I check off the names on my roster and clip the pen to the board, avoiding Jamie’s judgmental gaze. He never liked the idea of me dating Alex. Hell, I never liked the idea for this exact reason. I knew it would get messy and complicated. But I never expected to care for him this much.
“You know me too well, Jameson.” I frown. “I don’t want to like Alex Parker, of all people, but I do. At first, I thought he was just another player I needed to help, but it turns out, he was also helping me.”
“You miss him.” It’s a statement, not a question.
I nod.
“Do you want him back?”
