It Started with a Crush.... Melissa Mcclone

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      “Meow.”

      The family’s cat, an overweight Maine Coon with a tail that looked more like a raccoon’s than a feline’s, rubbed against the front door. His green-eyed gaze met Lucy’s.

      “I know, Manny.” The cat’s concern matched her own. “I want Connor home, too.”

      Something caught the corner of her eye. Something yellow. She stared out the window once again.

      The school bus idled at the corner. Red lights flashed.

      Relief flowed through her. “Thank goodness.”

      Lucy took a step toward the front door then stopped. Connor had asked her not to meet him at the bus stop. She understood the need to be independent and wanted to make him happy. But not even following his request these past two and a half weeks had erased the sadness from his eyes. She knew better than to take it personally. Smiles had become rare commodities around here since his parents deployed.

      Peering through the slit in the curtains gave her a clear view of the bus and the short walk to the house. Connor could assert his independence while she made sure he was safe.

      Lucy hated seeing him moping around like a lost puppy, but she understood. He missed his parents. She’d tried to make him feel better. Nothing, not even his favorite desserts, fast-food restaurants or video games, had made a difference. Now that his spring soccer team was without a coach, things had gone from bad to worse.

      The door of the bus opened. The Bowman twins exited. The seven-year-old girls wore matching pink polka-dot dresses, white shoes and purple backpacks.

      Connor stood on the bus’s bottom step with a huge smile on his face. He leaped to the ground and skipped away.

      Her heart swelled with excitement. Something good must have happened at school.

      As her nephew approached the house, Lucy stepped away from the window. She wanted to make sure his smile remained. No matter what it took.

      Manny rubbed against her leg. Birdlike chirping sounds came from his mouth. Strange, but not unexpected from a cat that barked when annoyed.

      “Don’t worry, Manny.” She touched the cat’s back. “Connor will be home in three … two … one …”

      The front door flung open. Manny dashed for the outside, but Connor closed the door to stop his escape.

      “Aunt Lucy.” His blue eyes twinkled. So much like Aaron. Same eyes, same hair color, same freckles. “I found someone who can coach the Defeeters.”

      She should have known Connor’s change of attitude had to do with soccer. Her nephew loved the sport. Aaron had coached his son’s team, the Defeeters, since Connor started playing organized soccer when he was five. A dad had offered to coach in Aaron’s place, but then had to back out after his work schedule changed. No other parent could do it for a variety of reasons. That left the team without a coach. Well, unless you counted her, which was pretty much like being coachless.

      The thought of asking her ex-husband to help entered her mind for about a nanosecond before she banished it into the far recesses of her brain where really bad ideas belonged. Being back in the same town as Jeff was hard enough with all the not-so-pleasant memories resurfacing. Lucy hadn’t seen him yet nor did she want to.

      “Fantastic,” she said. “Who is it?”

      Connor’s grin widened, making him look as if he’d found a million-dollar bill or calorie-free chocolate. He shrugged off his backpack. “Ryland James.”

      Her heart plummeted to her feet. Splat! “The Ryland James?”

      Connor nodded enthusiastically. “He’s not only best player in the MLS, but my favorite. He’ll be the perfect coach. He played on the same team with my dad. They won district and a bunch of tournaments. Ryland’s a nice guy. My dad said so.”

      She had to tread carefully here. For Connor’s sake.

      Ryland had been a nice guy and one of her brother’s closest friends. But she hadn’t seen him since he left high school to attend the U.S. Soccer Residency Program in Florida. According to Aaron, Ryland had done well, playing overseas and now for the Phoenix Fuego, a Major League Soccer (MLS) team in the U.S. Coaching a recreational soccer team comprised of nine-year-olds probably wasn’t on his bucket list.

      Lucy bit the inside of her cheek, hoping to think of something—anything—that wouldn’t make this blow up in her face and turn Connor’s smile upside down.

      “Wow,” she said finally. “Ryland James would be an amazing coach, but don’t you think he’s getting ready to start training for his season?”

      “MLS teams have been working out in Florida and Arizona since January. The season opener isn’t until April.” Connor spoke as if this was common knowledge she should know. Given soccer had always been “the sport” in the Martin household, she probably should. “But Ryland James got hurt playing with the U.S. Men’s Team in a friendly against Mexico. He’s out for a while.”

      Friendly meant an exhibition game. Lucy knew that much. But the news surprised her. Aaron usually kept her up-to-date on Ryland. Her brother would never let Lucy forget her schoolgirl crush on the boy from the wrong side of town who was now a famous soccer star. “Hurt as in injured?”

      “He had surgery and can’t play for a couple of months. He’s staying with his parents while he recovers.” Connor’s eyes brightened more. “Isn’t that great?”

      “I wouldn’t call having surgery and being injured great.”

      “Not him being hurt, but his being in town and able to coach us.” Connor made it sound like this was a done deal. “I bet Ryland James will be almost as good a coach as my dad.”

      “Did someone ask Ryland if he would coach the Defeeters?”

      “No,” Connor admitted, undaunted. “I came up with the idea during recess after Luke told me Ryland James was at the fire station’s spaghetti feed signing autographs. But the whole team thinks it’s a good idea. If I’d been there last night …”

      The annual Wicksburg Fire Department Spaghetti Feed was one of the biggest events in town. She and Connor had decided not to go to the fundraiser because Dana was calling home. “Don’t forget, you got to talk to your mom.”

      “I know,” Connor said. “But I’d like Ryland James’s autograph. If he coaches us, he can sign my ball.”

      Signing a few balls, mugging for the camera and smiling at soccer moms didn’t come close to the time it would take to coach a team of boys. The spring season was shorter and more casual than fall league, but still …

      She didn’t want Connor to be disappointed. “It’s a great idea, but Ryland might not have time.”

      “Will you ask him if he’ll coach us, Aunt Lucy? He might just say yes.”

      The sound of Connor’s voice, full of excitement and anticipation, tugged at her heart. “Might” likely equaled “yes” in his young mind. She’d do anything for her nephew. She’d returned to the same town СКАЧАТЬ