Me and the Cute Catastrophe (Sweet, Small Town Romantic Comedy in Good Grief, Idaho Book 1) by Jessie Gussman

Author:Jessie Gussman [Gussman, Jessie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Jessie Gussman
Published: 2021-02-06T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Claire

I GO TO THE GYM ON Thursday with an apprehension pulling in my chest.

The girls are huddled in their usual spot down by the far basket, with Evie dribbling around the three-point line, occasionally taking shots, and making all of them.

Tuesday’s practice went better than I thought it would. I had expected Trey to pitch a fit when he found out that I was having the girls pick up trash.

I assume he didn’t think that was the way basketball practice should be run. I am fairly certain he had never been to a basketball practice that had been run like that.

But he surprised me. Pleasantly.

Not only had he not argued with me or even suggested that we do even one thing that he wanted, but he’d rolled up the sleeves on his dress shirt and pitched in picking up the trash.

He had the girls giggling, and maybe ten years ago, they probably all would have had crushes on him.

If I looked at him now through the eyes of my teenage self, I don’t think I would have.

Back then, someone in their mid- to late thirties seemed like an old man to me.

His hairline had started to recede, and as he had pointed out to me at Mrs. Thompson’s house, he definitely didn’t have six-pack abs.

But looking at him through the eyes of my forty-one-year-old self?

I don’t care about the hair. I don’t care about the abs either.

Hair says nothing about character, and neither do abs.

What I really admire about him is his willingness to continue working with me even though I’m not doing things the way he knows they should be done.

That he is willing to pitch in and help.

That he isn’t too good to pick up trash.

That he would actually spend his time with a bunch of ragtag girls who obviously are not going to win again this year either.

I’d heard he’d been offered a head coaching position in the next county—rumor only. I’d also heard he’d turned it down.

Whether it was true or not, he had the freedom to leave, and yet he chose to stay. With me.

And only four girls.

We had six girls last year, and I’d been able to sub girls in throughout the game as they got tired.

This year, they’d have to play the whole game themselves.

I’d learned, after three seasons of coaching, that it is possible to foul out.

None of my girls have ever done that, of course.

I would put them on the bench long before they fouled out.

We follow the rules explicitly, and fouls are not well tolerated by me.

It is more important to be considerate and gracious and kind than it is to have to do anything that requires a potential foul.

I definitely drilled that into their heads the first time one of my girls got three fouls in a game.

That never happened again.

Still, as much as I admire Trey for seeing things my way, as much as I love his kindness and consideration, and even with that little attraction—probably attraction that is left over from high school and college—it isn’t enough to make a relationship.

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