Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“I think you’ve got a better shot at finding rhythm at seventy-five than you do with Luce, and that’s saying something.” He hugged his coach. “How are you, old man?”
Coach noticed me for the first time. His eyes perked up. “Now that’s much better than the shitty pastries you usually bring me.”
Wilder held up his pointer in warning. “Easy. No hitting on my girlfriend. This is Sloane.”
Coach opened his arms for a hug. I was happy to oblige. “It’s nice to meet you. Wilder told me all about you. You’re the only thing he talks about when he calls lately.”
Wilder shook his head. “Don’t believe anything he says. It’s all lies.”
“She must be someone special,” Coach noted. “Never brought anyone with you for your visit before.”
Wilder caught my eye. “She is.”
“Well, come sit.” Coach turned down the radio. “Patty can bring us some lunch on the patio.”
Wilder whispered, “Patty was his wife. She died ten years ago.”
He’d told me Coach often slipped in and out of current and past time, but I didn’t realize he would seem so lucid doing it. I thought Patty was someone who worked here, the way he’d said it.
“You feeling up for a walk before Patty brings us lunch?” Wilder asked.
“Yeah. Sure.”
Wilder helped Coach put on sneakers, and then the three of us took a walk. On the way out, Wilder let the front desk know what we were doing.
“Did you see I signed Santiago?” Wilder asked.
“Who?”
“Left flanker from California. We talked about him when I called last week.”
“Oh. Yeah, right.” Coach nodded, but I wasn’t sure he remembered anything.
We walked around the building on a path for the next hour. At times, conversation flowed and there was no doubt Coach’s memory was there, but there were other moments when Coach would trail off midsentence, like he’d forgotten he was even talking. One thing clear as day, though, was the bond between these men. Eventually, Coach’s steps became more of a shuffle, so we went back inside.
Wilder was down on a knee, unlacing a shoe when Coach yanked at the top of his hair. “You still using that girly yellow blow-dryer to make your hair fancy?”
Wilder shook his head with a smile. “Not anymore, Coach. Pretty sure you spend more time fixing those braids than I do on my hair these days.” Wilder’s eyes slanted to me.
I lifted a brow. “So the girly habits Lucas told us about aren’t new then?”
He smiled and turned back to Coach. “I’m going to get going. You want me to help you into bed?”
“Yeah. Why not? Then I’ll be ready when Lucinda finally comes around.”
Coach’s eyes fell to me briefly as Wilder pulled the covers up.
“I’ll call you next week. Take care, alright?”
Coach put a hand on Wilder’s bicep. “She’s a nice girl. I’m glad you finally moved on.”
I waited until we got to the car before poking around. “Was Coach referring to your high school girlfriend when he said he was glad you moved on?”
Wilder started the car, looking straight ahead. “No. He’s just confused.”
24
WILDER
TEN YEARS AGO
“I’m so bored.” Whitney sighed.
She’d been swiping through social media reels for the last hour, starting and stopping catchy little tunes as I tried to study, so it was on the tip of my tongue to say something snarky. But then I looked over at her propped-up feet and swollen ankles and felt bad. I closed my textbook. “What do you feel like doing?”
Her eyes lit up. “Let’s go shopping.”
“Again?”
She rubbed her swollen belly and pouted. “We need a lot of things.”
It would be easier to finish studying when she went home later anyway. The sounds from her phone were too distracting to concentrate.
I offered my hand to help her up, then pulled her against me once she was standing and wiggled my brows. “Unless you’d rather do something else…”
She frowned. “It’s hard to be in the mood when you’re fat.”
“You’re not fat. You’re five months pregnant.” I squeezed her ass. “And I think you’re sexy this way.”
She rolled her eyes. “Let’s just go to the mall.”
Whatever. We hadn’t had sex or even fooled around in at least a month, but she was going through a lot with hormone and body changes—changes I didn’t have to go through, so I didn’t complain. Though her excuse that she felt fat or ugly felt flimsy when she liked herself enough to buy a new wardrobe and makeup every week. But maybe I was just cranky from studying and listening to the player announcements for the England rugby team—announcements that would no longer include my name for next season.
Two hours later, my mood wasn’t much better as I carried a half-dozen department store bags through the mall, trailing behind Whitney. At least her spirits seemed higher. We stopped in the food court, and I got us each a big pretzel. I suggested she brush off the salt since her ankles were swollen, but that didn’t go over well. When Whit and I had first gotten together, everything was easy. We’d seemed to agree on most things. We had sex all the time and didn’t argue. She almost always had a smile on her face. But that had changed over the last few months, and I was beginning to wonder if it was the pregnancy or if we didn’t get to know each other well enough and hadn’t made it past the honeymoon phase in our relationship until now.