“What exactly are you trying to tell me, Adalyn?”
“That…” I could have said a hundred possible things. I used to be someone who worked well under pressure, so I knew I could have come up with smart, well-reasoned arguments as to why this whole thing was… ridiculous. Way under my paycheck. But instead I blurted, “My accommodation is subpar and I’m supposed to work with a children’s team.”
A bitter burst of laughter echoed in the line. “Well. You lasted all of twenty-four hours before giving up.”
The words felt like a blow to the middle of my chest. And for whatever reason, my head decided to throw a very similar statement back at my face. Cameron’s. I don’t think you will make it a single night there.
“I don’t blame you,” my father continued. “Leaving behind the comfort of the life I’ve provided for you is not easy. So fine, I’ll send you somewhere else. Have a pick, Underwood Holdings has enough options to keep you busy until this blows over. I always believed you’d be better suited for real estate anyway.”
All the blood left my face, dropping to my feet with a swoosh. “But that’s not what I want. You know that.”
“What do you want then?” he asked me even though he knew the answer to that: the Miami Flames. My job. My life. Respect from him and David. He pressed, “Run back home? You can. Contrary to what your mother said, I have no intention of keeping you there against your will. But I can’t give you your job at the Flames back. Your face is still dangling around like we’re a bad joke.”
A bad joke.
My throat dried. My heart was pounding. Everything from that day came rushing back. I felt cold and warm, all at once. “I’m not running back home. I can do this. I will fix this.”
“That’s what I want to hear,” he said, and I hated the relief that half-hearted comment made me feel. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to go search for your mother before she wreaks havoc in the office.”
And before I could say another word, the call ended.
My hand fell to my side as I blinked, staring into empty space.
I remained like that for long time, I wasn’t sure if it was a minute or five. I tried to find peace in the September crisp air, slowly bringing the pounding in my chest to a normal pace, searching for the comfort of the late afternoon sun on my face. It felt good. Or as good as something could feel when one was standing on the real—seven feet under bottom—rock bottom.
A bird chirped in the distance, the sound echoing through the absolute silence surrounding me.
I frowned from my post at the bleachers.
Why were we in absolute silence?
My eyes dashed to the spot where the team had been but found no one there. No kids in tutus doing cartwheels, no incessant chatter, no one lying on the grass.
Panic entered my system in one powerful and overwhelming wave. Phone in hand, I jerked up and climbed down the bleachers at supersonic speed.
“Hello?” I called, my growing desperation loud in my voice. “Girls?”
But no one answered.
I speed-walked along the sidelines, my gaze searching every corner and edge in the facilities. Where in the world were they? I couldn’t believe I’d just lost a whole team’s worth of children. God. This was a new low. This was also why I wasn’t fit to be their coach. I didn’t belong on the sidelines and I was useless with kids. If they’d wandered out into the nearby woods or the street, I’d never forgive myself. I—
A loud noise followed by a burst of giggles came from the opposite direction, and I immediately veered that way. The supply shed? More clattering sounds followed the first one, as if all sorts of things were crashing against the ground, making me speed up and wish I wasn’t wearing a pair of heeled sandals that were digging into the grass.
“Please don’t be hurt. Please don’t be bruised or bleeding or…”
I came to a stop the moment I spotted a ball rolling out of the shed. The metallic doors were thrown wide open, one of them was hanging off its hinges, and hushed voices came from inside. Another ball rolled out. Then a third. And a fourth.
Chest heaving, I ventured inside. The space was larger than it seemed—it had a tall ceiling and it was at least half the size of my cottage—and… all kinds of things were scattered on the floor. Vests were spilling out of cabinets. Cones were scrambled on the ground, nets filled with balls that had seen better times were strewn all over the place. There were even cardboard boxes with other sports’ equipment.