Page 109 of Hidden & Held

But Mack has already grabbed his arm. “I’m borrowing him,” she calls back, already moving. “Thank God I have this one memorized.”

And then they’re gone—threading through a crowd of eleven-year-olds—and I’m left standing alone in the middle of the rec center, still not entirely sure what happened. Scanning the crowd, I spot Jared in the corner near the stage. Arms crossed, eyes moving over the room, waiting for the show to start.

A woman approaches him, Reece’s coach. She’s tall, model-thin; hair dripping wet from the dunk tank. The towel doing more dabbing than actual drying. She steps into his space, closer than there’s any reason for, her wet chest doing exactly what the towel wasn’t, outlining a swimsuit that has no business being at a kid’s event.

Jared takes a step back. Clears his throat. Looks anywhere that isn’t her, spotting me.

“Phi, hey! So glad you could make it.”

He pulls me into a stiff side hug. The kind of hug we have never once shared.

“Hey.” I glance past him. “Your girlfriend and Reece ran backstage with Jackson.”

He visibly flinches at girlfriend. Interesting.

“Yeah, they’ve been working on something. Wouldn’t tell me what.”

“It’s a silly little thing,” the wet T-shirt wannabe states, placing the towel over her shoulders. “The girls should be focused on the game.” Jared and I peer sideways at each other; she catches it. “And school. Of course.”

His shoulders drop an inch, nodding in agreement.

Standing a little straighter, I stare her down. “A Harvard study found that disciplines like dance and music actually support cognitive growth alongside physical coordination.” I let that sit a second. “Not to mention emotional well-being.”

The coach blinks at me, opening her mouth to speak, but I turn my attention elsewhere.

“You know.” I shrug. “Well-rounded. Isn’t that the goal for all of them?”

Her upper lip twitches, the closest thing to a smile she seems willing to spare. “Of course. That’s all we want.”

Jared clears his throat, surveying the room, avoiding our gazes. “Oh—look, there’s Kenzie.”

Mack taps on the microphone twice. “Thank you all for attending our fundraiser for the Cascadia Girls Football Club. These strong, incredible young women have been working hard on and off the field. Tonight, we had a bit of a pivot …” The girls giggle behind her. “We had to change songs. However, just as these girls have to change strategies in games to come out on top, they worked together, with the help of some local support.” Mack’s eyes turn to Jackson on the side of the stage, who takes a step back, not wanting the spotlight.

“Tonight, these girls will perform ‘Phoenix’ by Netrum & Halvorsen.”

“No, they didn’t,” I say, and then feel a shoulder bump next to me.

Nessa clasps her hands in front of her, giving out a bark of laughter. “Yes! I love this song!” she says as she hops on the balls of her feet.

The opening notes pulse through the room as the soccer team hits their first formation in perfect unison. Offstage, Mack can’t help counting the beats under her breath, her shoulders swaying to the moves they’re performing. The girls are laughing as the final chorus begins, ending with “rise from the ashes”, they all freeze, holding their pose.

Moving first, Reece barrels into Mack’s waist, arms wrapping around her, and jumps up and down, shouting, “We did it!” Mack squeals and hugs her back tighter.

“Damn, too bad we didn’t know they were changing songs. It is such a missed opportunity for Ashes & Alimony.” Nessa shakes her head, sighing.

I continue clapping, ignoring her marketing pleas. Jackson is on the side of the stage, coiling an extension cord and high-fiving the girls as they pass.

“He messed up. Bad.”

“I know.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, his Taurus tendencies have kicked in. He has been steady, consistent even. Showing up for you in ways you needed. Thank God for that. Your cooking skills are atrocious.”

“They aren’t that bad,” I argue with no heat in my voice.

“They are. And besides his sneaking you extra coffee—don’t even deny it—that consistency? It’s a lot more than many of us get.” She pauses, then adds almost to herself, “With anyone in our lives.”

My eyes find Jackson as he hops off the stage and starts toward me. He only makes it a few steps before a little girl in a green soccer jersey tugs on his sleeve. He drops to one knee so they’re eye level, listening with complete focus as she whispers something only meant for him. His laugh comes easily, warm enough that she beams right back before he holds up his hand for a high-five. She skips away as if she won the championship.