Page 90 of Catching the Coach
My grip tightens around Judd’s phone, turning my knuckles white. He reaches forward and grabs the phone out of my hand. “I’ll just take that back, I don’t need you breaking my phone.”
I let out a frustrated growl and grab the whiskey glass Judd took from me earlier, draining the rest of its contents. I let the smooth brown liquid slide down my throat, a trail of fire following its path. Taking a deep breath through my nose, I set the glass down before I smash that against the wall too. “I need to see Lucy,” I tell them
Reese shakes his head. “You just told her you didn’t want to see her.”
“That was before I knew about the article. I need to see if she’s ok. I may be mad, but I still love her.”
Judd steps in front of me, blocking me from going to the front door. “I don’t think that’s a great idea right now.”
“Why not? She wanted to talk in person.” I move to go around him, but he puts his arm out stopping me.
“Mom texted me, she talked to Lucy.” He stops scratching the back of his head. “Lucy told Mom you were right and that pressing pause on your relationship was probably best. You guys went from zero to sixty so fast.” He gives me an apologetic look. “She said it was only a matter of time until you guys crashed.”
I stagger back like someone just punched me in the stomach, gripping the counter for balance. The food I ate turns sour in my stomach, and I just stare at Judd, not wanting to believe the words he just said.
I asked for this, and she was giving me what I didn’t want.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
lucy
It’s beenthree days since the fight and the dreaded article that came out. I never thought I’d be thankful for my sleep walking, but apparently when I was sleepwalking one night, I put my phone in the dishwasher and turned it on, needless to say, I don’t have to worry about any reporters contacting me, since my phone is toast. I used Kara’s phone to call into work, telling them I’d be out for the week. Thank God my boss was understanding, telling me to take the time I needed. I also had Kara run practices for the week. There’s no way I could focus on baseball when all it did was remind me of Kessler and what I’ve possibly lost.
Besides getting up to get Hudson off to school, I’ve stayed in my bed, not having the energy or desire to do much of anything else. Kara has been bringing food over for us that her mom has cooked, so we don’t starve. She offered to have Hudson stay with them for a few days, but I didn’t want to disrupt his schedule because of my crisis. I let him stay home from school the first day and we just laid around and watched movies. He asked me if Kessler was coming back and I was honest with him and told him I didn’t know.
I roll over and face the picture I took from the living room. The one that was taken when we weren’t looking. I haven’t heard a single word from Kessler, which is probably for the best, but doesn’t make it hurt any less. We’re not even going to mention that I’m wearing his T-shirt he left on the floor the morning before all hell broke loose.
A knock on the front door pulls me from my thoughts of Kessler. I’m not expecting Marie until later today, so I ignore the knock and bury myself back under the covers, hoping whoever it is just goes away. They knock again, louder this time. I sigh and throw the covers back. I pull on my leggings that have seen better days and march down the hall, ready to tell off whoever is on the other side.
I yank the door open and whatever I was going to say dies on my lips. Marlene is standing on the other side. Tears spring to my eyes at the sight of her warm welcoming face. Not saying a word she opens her arms to me and I go to her, sobbing into her chest. Marlene wraps me tight in her embrace and runs a soothing hand over my head, letting me get out all the hurt and anger I’ve bottled up.
Once my sobs have subsided a bit I pull back, using the bottom of Kessler’s shirt to wipe my face. “I’m so sorry, Marlene. I don’t know what came over me,” I say, embarrassed by my outburst of emotion. “Please, come in.” I step back letting her into the entryway.
Marlene waves a hand at me, dismissing my apology. “Honey, don’t ever apologize for your emotions. You have every right to be emotional right now.”
I close the door and wave a hand at the living room. “Please, have a seat. Do you want something to drink?”
Marlene shakes her head. “Don’t worry about me dear. I’m here to check on you. Why don’t we go for a walk?” She raises a brow and looks over my clothes. “After you shower.”
I feel my cheeks heat and I run a hand over my unwashed hair and look down at my clothes. “I’m a mess.”
Marlene turns me around and points me in the direction of the hallway, patting my shoulder. “Don’t worry, a nice shower and change of clothes will help. And don’t be embarrassed, we’ve all been there.”
She gently pushes me forward and I start down the hall. Before entering I look over my shoulder. “Thank you, Marlene.”
“”Don’t mention it dear. ” She gives me a warm smile and I head into my room, stripping off my clothes and stepping into a welcoming hot shower.
* * *
One long, hot shower later and I’m feeling a little better. I pull my favorite pair of mint green leggings and matching sports bra out of my drawer and put them on. Tossing a matching sweater on over the top. Deciding to let my hair air dry, I walk out into the living room and am greeted by the smell of fresh brewed coffee.
“I hope you don’t mind dear,” Marlene says, turning from my picture wall, holding up a coffee mug. “I figured you could use some caffeine.”
“Not at all.” I grab my favorite mug from the cabinet and pour myself a cup. Grabbing the creamer out of the fridge I doctor up my coffee and take a seat at the island, watching Marlene. She’s smiling at the picture of Kessler, Hudson, and I. “Why are you here?” She turns and gives me a questioning look. I realize my question sounded rude so I add, “Not that I’m not appreciative that you are. I just-” I pause and shrug my shoulders. “I figured you would be mad at me too.”
Marlene comes over and sets her mug down on the island next to mine. She puts both her hands on my shoulders, causing me to look up at her. “No one is mad at you,” she tells me, her gray-blue eyes staring back at me.
I let out a snort. “Pretty sure your son is, and he has every right to be.”
