“Anyway.”A small wry smile breaks across her face.“Maybe it’s because you’re older and slightly wiser—don’t let it go to your head.”The smile softens into something more serious.“But you look at Grace differently.You don’t look at her like someone who needs protecting.You look at her like someone worth standing next to.Like she’s your equal.”Her hand settles on my shoulder.“Like she’s your peace.Your actual happiness.”
I didn’t realize I’d been that readable.“I can’t just leave… the game, the boys, this is my job?—”
“Wren is already in the bleachers.”She waves a hand toward the gym.“That’s what an assistant coach is for, isn’t it?”
“But I should be the one who?—”
Nate clears his throat from somewhere behind Katie, then steps in next to her, a ball resting on his hip.A few of the boys hover nearby and are not working very hard at pretending they haven’t been listening.
“We’ve got this, Coach.”Nate holds my gaze, steady and sure.“Go.”
From the back of the small gathering, Kevin—a junior, all nerves and raw sincerity—blurts out, “Yeah, we like Grace.You’d be crazy not to go.”He freezes the moment it leaves his mouth.“Sorry, Coach.I didn’t—I just?—”
I almost laugh.Almost.
Katie crouches slightly so we’re eye level, her hand still rests on my shoulder.“You’re not doing any of this alone, Mad.You’ve got people behind you who want to help.”She glances back at the boys, then to me.“Let us.”
I look at them—my sister, my team, the easy uncomplicated trust on their faces—and something inside me that has been locked up tight for a long time quietly gives way.
Many people have said those same words to me over the years, and each time, I rejected them, never even stopping to let them sink in.This time is different.
I pull Katie into a quick, hard hug, then turn to face the room.“Play smart.We got here together, so trust each other out there.”
I let that sit for a beat because it’s all that needs saying, and then I’m moving through the corridor, past the people calling out wishes for a win, past the confused faces of anyone watching their coach walk in the wrong direction.
The cold hits me the moment I push through the door into the parking lot, sharp enough to sting, and for one brutal second, a thought lands square in the center of my chest.
What if I’m too late?
The boys are playing without me, and Grace is already on the road.Helena isn’t far, but it’s far enough for Grace to disappear.
I don’t know where she’s staying, and why the fuck don’t I have her number?Once she moved in, we never needed a phone.Shit.
Okay, I’ll start with the car rental and work outward from there.Patsy might know which hotel, and if not, maybe Mom does.And if neither of them can help, I’ll call the paper in Los Angeles and work my way down whatever list it takes.I’ll even hunt down Blane if I have to.I won’t give the thought of failure room to breathe.
The truck engine roars to life, and the tires bite into the road like this is the only race that has ever mattered.The town slips past in familiar pieces—fields and fences, the gas station on the corner—things I’ve driven past a thousand times without seeing any of them.
I see them now.
I see everything with a strange, sharp clarity that only seems to arrive when something is slipping away.
My hands are steady on the wheel.My head is not.I told myself I was protecting my family, my name, everything.But all I did was repeat the same mistake I’ve been making my whole adult life, shouldering everything alone, keeping people at arm’s length in the name of protection when really it’s fear.
I didn’t let her in.
I had every reason to trust her, and I chose not to, and now she’s ahead of me on a road to Helena.
Once I’m on the highway, the road opens, long and straight, mountains bruising the horizon, and I push harder, the speedometer climbing as resolve settles in my bones.
A few miles outside town, I crest a small rise, and my breath catches in my throat.I recognize the car first, headed in the opposite direction, back toward Winslow Grove.I would have missed it if I hadn’t been paying attention.
I’ve watched that car sit in my driveway and park outside the inn and idle in the school lot while she waited to interview me.
It’s Grace.
My heart thumps so hard it rattles my ribs.I slow without deciding to, eyes locked on her windshield as she passes, sunlight flashing off the glass in a brief bright streak.
She doesn’t look over.She hasn’t seen me or recognized the truck, and for one suspended second, the road stretches between us, widening by the moment, the distance compounding with every yard.