His mistakes. The words lingered, and Lauren couldn’t help but wonder if she was one of them.
Chapter 10
“Gracias for letting Coach Will come.” Rosa ushered Lauren into the small kitchen.
“Oh, of course,” Lauren said. “It seems like it’s important.” Lauren felt the blush of shame rise to her cheeks. Will wasn’t the type to explain himself, especially not about anything serious.
But this? This was a different side of him. One she didn’t think existed.
“Rosa, do you mind me asking what happened to Jackson’s foot?”
Rosa glanced at her, then bustled around her kitchen. She filled a tea kettle with water and set it on the stove to heat. She pulled a box of tea bags from the cupboard and some milk from the refrigerator. She was avoiding Lauren’s eyes—and her question—and Lauren wished she could take it back.
“I’m sorry,” Lauren looked down, then back at Rosa. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
Rosa turned to face her, and there were quiet tears in her eyes.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Lauren said.
“No, no,” Rosa picked up one of Lauren’s hands and patted it. “I’m just so worried about him.” She looked back into the living room. “Jackson is a good boy. He has always been a good boy. But he didn’t meet the best friends when he got to college. He does things now he never did before. Drinking, missing classes—he got fired from his work study job. He’s on scholarship, and if he gets kicked off the team. . .”
“He loses it,” Lauren finished.
Lauren glanced toward the kitchen door and into the living room where she saw Will, sitting on the chair next to Jackson, leaning toward him and gesturing in what appeared to be deep conversation. She couldn’t see his face, but she could tell by his body language that Will was invested.
The kettle whistled, and Rosa turned to attend to it. “Coach Will.” Rosa sighed. “Always looking out for my Jackson. Making sure he knows consequences. Making sure to use his talent, not take it for granted. Your Will is saving my boy. You’re a very lucky woman.” Rosa’s smile was so genuine, it splintered something in Lauren’s heart.
The older woman set a cup of tea on the table in front of Lauren.
“He’s not my Will,” Lauren admitted.
Rosa’s face lit in surprise. “No! But you are both so beautiful!”
Lauren felt the blush rise to her cheeks. She shook her head. “We’re just…well, I don’t know what we are. Friends, I guess? I don’t know him that well, he’s just giving me a ride home for the holidays. He’s friends with my brother, and we’re from the same hometown.” She thought she might shrink under the weight of Rosa’s gaze. This stranger looked at her in a way most people didn’t—in a way that allowed her to actually see Lauren.
And Lauren wasn’t sure she wanted to be seen.
“I just assumed.” Rosa glanced in the direction of the living room. “Any woman would be so lucky to have a man like Will.”
Lauren gave a soft shrug. “I’m just not that lucky.” Her voice hitched. The feelings she’d worked so hard to bury poked through her surface like a tiny bud shooting through concrete.
“Between you and me, Coach Will is a godsend. Jackson’s father and I don’t know where we went wrong with him, but he doesn’t listen to us anymore.”
“Rosa, sometimes kids just do stupid things,” Lauren said with more authority than she had on the subject. “Sometimes the very best parents can’t keep their kids from making bad decisions. It’s all part of growing up.”
Rosa nodded slowly. “Coach Will has said that too. He even gave me his mother’s phone number, so I could talk to someone who’s been through it.”
Immediately, Lauren wondered about Will’s real story. Not the story she’d assigned to him, but his real story. The one he only shared as a cautionary tale. After what had happened between them all those years ago, she thought she had him pegged. She heard what people said, after all. She knew about the girls, the partying, and she certainly knew that he had a way of making people fall in love with him.
Will didn’t simply play the field, he left behind a trail of broken hearts. She’d always assumed he’d done that on purpose. Like it was a game.
Lauren took a few steps and stood in the kitchen, staring at him.
I’m not wrong. I’m not wrong about him.
She leaned on the doorway.