Page 55 of The Path to Loving Him
“Oh my God, goodbye, Bower.”
“Bye, love you,” she drags out.
Chuckling, I hang up the phone and head into the school entry, where I stop to talk to the admin at the door. I show her my ID and tell her that I’m here to speak with Principal Herbert. She unlocks the door, letting me in, then directs me toward his office.
“He should be out soon.”
“Thank you,” I say as I sit in one of the chairs outside his office. Most likely, these are the chairs the students sit in when they’re in trouble. I never sat in one, but Bennett did. I can still remember the look he gave me when I arrived in the principal’s office. He had a black eye and a grin. He wasn’t even the slightest bit nervous about what would happen to him.
He got in a fight with a kid at school. The kid was picking on him all week when he found out Bennett was a foster kid. Bennett put him in his place right before he was knocked out by a door that was flung open. He took out the bully, and the door took him out.
He still laughs about it to this day. He thought he was some badass, sticking up for himself, only to be humbled by an entry point. Luckily, he just had to do some community service—trash pickup for four weekends around the school—and all was forgiven.
The door, though? I still think Bennett has a vendetta against it.
I choose a seat directly across from the office so Herbert sees me when he opens the door. I cross one leg over the other and attempt to get comfortable just as the door opens, and Ryland Rowley pops out.
Shit.
It takes about two seconds for him to see me, and when he does, his expression is a mixture of confusion and irritation.
“Oh, Gabby, what perfect timing,” Herbert says. “We were just talking about you.”
“We were?” Ryland looks between the two of us, clearly searching for answers.
Oh boy.
Here is the moment of truth.
“Yes, this is Gabriel, or Gabby as she likes to be called. She’s your new assistant coach.”
Ryland’s head snaps so quickly that I swear it might tear off. “You?” he asks, pointing at me. “Youare my new assistant?”
Cue the nervous laughter and terrified wave.
I stand from the chair and clench my hands together. “Um . . . yes.”
“Do you remember her?” Herbert asks. “She’s Bennett Brinkman’s sister.”
“Wait, what?” Ryland’s head looks like it’s about to explode, and I don’t blame him. This must be a bit much for him, and I didn’t make it easy. I probably should have told him earlier.
“Bennett Brinkman, currently in the farm system, one of the best prospects out there. He was an All-American here,” Herbert continues, clearly not reading the room very well.
“I know who Bennett is, but . . .” Ryland studies me. “I don’t . . . I don’t recall . . .”
“I sat in the outfield most of the time,” I say. “I didn’t like being around the parents. I think we met a few times, but, you know, nothing that made an impact.”
Ryland runs his hand across his forehead. “You have no qualifications. What the fuck makes you think you can coach with me?”
Okay, seems like we’re choosing anger.
I don’t blame him.
I’m kind of throwing him for a loop at the moment.
“Ryland,” Herbert says in a disapproving tone.
“No, Herbert. I want to know. What team has she coached before? What’s her résumé?” He’s fuming.
