Page 59 of Catching the Coach
“Kessler’s here!” Hudson announces, sitting up in his seat.
I laugh. “I can see that.” I pull up beside his truck and Hudson scrambles out of my car and over to the porch where Kessler is sitting in one of the chairs I have out there. I sit in my car for a second and take him in. His hair is wet, like he just got out of the shower and he’s wearing cargo shorts and a faded Silverbacks T-shirt. He says something to Hudson that makes him laugh and my heart skips a beat. He makes us both so happy. He makes time for us. I mean he played a freaking game today and even though I know he’s probably exhausted, instead of going back to his place, he’s here, with us.
Because he loves you, moron.
And I think I may love him too. The thought terrifies me, but not as much as the thought of him not being in our lives does. I know I need to tell him. Everything. But now isn’t the time.
He looks over at me and I realize I’m still sitting in my car lost in my thoughts. I take a deep breath and climb out of my car. I walk over to them and give Kessler a big smile. “Hey, I didn’t think I’d see you tonight.” I dig my keys out of my purse and hand them to Hudson. He heads to the door and unlocks it, leaving it open and heading inside. Kessler comes over to me and wraps me up in his arms. I sigh and lean into him and wrap my arms around his back, breathing in his spice and leather scent. I feel him place a kiss on my head, then lay his chin on top of it.
“I didn’t want to go home to an empty apartment, I hope this is ok?” he says into my hair.
I pull back and look up at him. “Absolutely. Have you eaten? We’re just making breakfast for dinner.” I shrug my shoulders. “Nothing fancy.”
He leans down and captures my lips with his, giving me a long slow kiss. When he pulls back he looks into my eyes. “Sounds perfect.”
He takes my hand and we walk into the house. I set my stuff down on the entry table and I can hear the shower running in Hudson’s bathroom. “I’m going to go change, make yourself comfortable” He nods and I head to my room and quickly change out of my practice clothes and into leggings and a tank top. I walk back to the kitchen and see Kessler sitting at the island. I get the bacon and a baking sheet out and turn the broiler on, on the stove.
“Need any help?” Kessler asks, looking at me from across the island.
“No, I got it. You just sit back and relax. Oh, congratulations on the win today, I wasn’t able to catch the game, but I looked up the score after practice.” I slice the bacon package open and start laying the strips on the sheet.
He stares at me, eyebrows scrunched.
“What?” I ask. “Is there something on my face?” I use the back of my hand to wipe at my face.
“What are you doing?”
I pause and stare back at him. “Cooking the bacon?” I say, like it’s obvious.
“By putting it under the broiler?” he asks like it’s the most insane thing he’s ever heard of.
“Uh yeah? How do you cook bacon?”
“In a pan,” he says, like it’s obvious.
I roll my eyes at him, “This is much faster, trust me.” I grab the sheet and put it under the broiler and turn the exhaust fan on.
“Whatever you say, Coach.” Kessler says, giving me a smirk. I smirk back at him and wash my hands before grabbing the stuff for pancakes and putting it on the island along with the mixing bowl and griddle. We fall into a comfortable silence as I move around the kitchen making dinner. Like this is a normal Tuesday night for us. Hudson comes out a few minutes later and sits next to Kessler at the island. They talk about Kessler’s game and Hudson tells him about practice.
After we eat, and all the food is put away, which wasn’t much between the two bottomless pits, I’m rinsing dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. Hudson and Kessler are back at the island. Kessler tried to help me do dishes but I shooed him out to go hang with Hudson.
“So are you guys going to get married?” I hear Hudson ask Kessler. The plate I was rinsing slips from my hand and shatters in the sink.
“Shit,” I mutter, turning off the water so the pieces don’t go down the drain.
“Are you ok?” I hear Kessler ask, his chair scraping back from the island.
I wave him off. “I’m fine, the plate just slipped.” Not paying attention to the shard I’m grabbing, I feel a pinch and a burning sensation. I look down to see blood pouring from my finger. “Fucking shit,” I say, turning the water on and running my finger under it.
Kessler appears at my side and grabs my wrist. “Here,” he says, taking paper towels that he grabbed and wrapping them around my finger, putting pressure on it.
“Thanks.”
“No need to thank me, Coach. Now go sit down and keep pressure on your finger and I’ll clean this up and finish loading the dishwasher.” I open my mouth to protest, but he lays a finger across my lips and gives me a pointed look. “Go.”
I roll my eyes at him, but do as he says and take a seat next to Hudson.
“You good, Mom?” he asks, looking at the bloody paper towel that’s wrapped around my finger.
