Me and the Cute Catastrophe (Sweet, Small Town Romantic Comedy in Good Grief, Idaho Book 1)

by Jessie Gussman

  I am betting it was the first.

  As long as I keep my focus on the balls and think about Evie blowing one up in order to dribble it and shoot a hoop or two and take deep breaths through my nose, I keep myself from screaming like I want to.

  Maybe not screaming. Yelling. Stomping over to Claire and demanding she resign from her position, effective immediately.

  Someone who doesn’t even see the point of basketball has absolutely no business coaching a team. None.

  I could hardly fathom that she is the girls’ varsity coach, and she is talking about a sport that I love, one that I excelled at and learned so many great things from, like it is meaningless.

  I want to throttle her, grab her by her shoulders and shake her until she sees what I see. Something that gives kids purpose. Something that gives them meaning in life and the skills to go from clumsy to athletic, that will teach them sportsmanship and handling pressure and help develop the character it takes to pick yourself up after a loss, to dig in more, harder, with all the grit and perseverance in your body, to claw your way back to a win, even when, especially when, you don’t feel like it.

  There are so many lessons in the sport of basketball, so many, and Claire is dismissing it like it is sugar in a keto diet.

  But as upset as I am about her words, I can’t be upset with the person herself.

  She is doing what she feels is right. She’s donating her time and her knowledge to girls who might not—probably don’t—appreciate it.

  Maybe she is a little discouraged because there aren’t more kids out, and maybe she is making the best of things.

  I walk slowly toward her, my hands still in my pockets, my mind spinning.

  I had no idea things were this bad.

  I don’t even know where to start.

  “Were you expecting more girls?”

  “It would be nice to have a few more. I’ll have to play Evie now, and there will be some parents who are upset about that. No one will get a break either, and the girls get tired running up and down and all around constantly.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek and keep my voice level. “If she’s good enough to play, she should play. It shouldn’t matter what people think.”

  “I think we’ve had this discussion before, and it does matter what people think. We want to be careful not to offend anyone.”

  Being that I lived in Seattle, I feel like I should be the one telling someone from Good Grief that we shouldn’t offend people, but Claire has turned the tables on me, and somehow, I am the one who is scrambling for words to explain why we don’t need to worry about offending people.

  She gives my clothes another glance. “I understand if you don’t want to help pick up trash. You’re not exactly dressed for it. And I’m sure it’s not your favorite pastime anyway.” Her voice is nonchalant along with her body language, but as much as I want to accept her offer, I won’t.

  “I’m the assistant coach. If the basketball team is picking up trash, then that’s what I’m doing. Whether I like it or not. Whether I’m dressed for it or not.”

  Those are the words that come out of my mouth, and that’s really how I felt. Part of basketball is the team spirit. You never let your teammates down, not with your actions, not with your playing, not with your mouth or attitude.

  Now there is a lesson that builds character.

  “I’m happy to hear that.” Claire smiles at me, her eyes sparkling. I am close enough to see the emerald green.

  Regardless of how much we disagree about basketball, and I’m not even sure she realizes exactly how much we disagree, I’m not going to pass up the opportunity to work with Claire.

  Chapter 12

  Claire

  I GO TO THE GYM ON Thursday with an apprehension pulling in my chest.

  The girls are huddled in their usual spot down by the far basket, with Evie dribbling around the three-point line, occasionally taking shots, and making all of them.

  Tuesday’s practice went better than I thought it would. I had expected Trey to pitch a fit when he found out that I was having the girls pick up trash.

  I assume he didn’t think that was the way basketball practice should be run. I am fairly certain he had never been to a basketball practice that had been run like that.

  But he surprised me. Pleasantly.

  Not only had he not argued with me or even suggested that we do even one thing that he wanted, but he’d rolled up the sleeves on his dress shirt and pitched in picking up the trash.

  He had the girls giggling, and maybe ten years ago, they probably all would have had crushes on him.

  If I looked at him now through the eyes of my teenage self, I don’t think I would have.

  Back then, someone in their mid- to late thirties seemed like an old man to me.

  His hairline had started to recede, and as he had pointed out to me at Mrs. Thompson’s house, he definitely didn’t have six-pack abs.

  But looking at him through the eyes of my forty-one-year-old self?

  I don’t care about the hair. I don’t care about the abs either.

  Hair says nothing about character, and neither do abs.

  What I really admire about him is his willingness to continue working with me even though I’m not doing things the way he knows they should be done.

  That he is willing to pitch in and help.

  That he isn’t too good to pick up trash.

  That he would actually spend his time with a bunch of ragtag girls who obviously are not going to win again this year either.

  I’d heard he’d been offered a head coaching position in the next county—rumor only. I’d also heard he’d turned it down.

  Whether it was true or not, he had the freedom to leave, and yet he chose to stay. With me.

  And only four girls.

  We had six girls last year, and I’d been able to sub girls in throughout the game as they got tired.

  This year, they’d have to play the whole game themselves.

  I’d learned, after three seasons of coaching, that it is possible to foul out.

  None of my girls have ever done that, of course.

  I would put them on the bench long before they fouled out.

  We follow the rules explicitly, and fouls are not well tolerated by me.

  It is more important to be considerate and gracious and kind than it is to have to do anything that requires a potential foul.

  I definitely drilled that into their heads the first time one of my girls got three fouls in a game.

  That never happened again.

  Still, as much as I admire Trey for seeing things my way, as much as I love his kindness and consideration, and even with that little attraction—probably attraction that is left over from high school and college—it isn’t enough to make a relationship.

  My failed marriage taught me that at least.

  A relationship needs to be built on shared values and things you have in common. Trey and I have practically nothing in common. Including basketball. Since we have such differing views on the subject.

  Still, I can’t deny that my heart beats faster when he is around, and there is a lot about him to admire. Even if we don’t agree.

  “It’s good to see you all today, girls. You did a great job of picking up trash on Tuesday. Thank you.”

  They chatter a bit while they line up on the foul line.

  I spend some time talking with them about school and hobbies and what they are doing, and we joke a little bit.

  Then I straighten up and say, “Today, we’re heading to the nursing home, where we’re going to ride along with the residents as they take a trip to Walmart. Some of them just need someone to walk alongside them while they pick out their purchases, and some of them might have a list to hand you, and they’ll expect you to pick out the things on it. Of course, I will be there to help if you have any questions, and I’ll be in charge of paying for anything and handling the money. I know you girls will be a big help to ladies that might n
ot be able to walk around the store anymore but still want to make their own purchases.”

  We’ve done it before last year, so the two returning team members know what to expect. It’s a little bit crazy and a little bit hard because some of the ladies are very picky about wanting the exact kind of item they specify and aren’t willing to substitute.

  But sometimes, people are difficult to deal with, and we have to continue to be kind and gracious to them anyway. What a great lesson for the girls.

  I feel like there is no better place for the girls to learn character than an assisted living center. I am glad my sister Leah is the activities director and that she allows us to do the shopping trip with the residents there.

  “You’re going to a nursing home today?”

  I hadn’t heard Trey walk in. I definitely hadn’t heard his footsteps across the floor.

  I turn and see he’s dressed in basketball shorts, a T-shirt that is exactly the right size, and sneakers.

  He got along so well with the garbage thing that I hadn’t thought about letting him in on what I am doing today.

  Once he got used to the idea, it seemed like he hadn’t cared. I was sure he was starting to see that I am going to be doing things a little differently.

  “Mr. Haywood. I’m so glad you made it,” I say, loving that my voice sounds cool and professional.

  My insides definitely don’t feel that way, at least not the part of me that is still in high school and gets flustered around an attractive man.

  Did I mention his t-shirt?

  Okay, that seems a little shallow, and honestly, I don’t want some man drooling over me because of a t-shirt, but truly, I wouldn’t look twice at him if I didn’t know the character of the man in the t-shirt. That makes all the difference.

  I suppose some of you know what I’m talking about—he looks good to me, physically, because I’m looking at him from the inside out.

  Alright, enough grown-up talk.

  The man is yummy.

  Even the grown-up part of me can appreciate the way he looks striding across the floor as well. I smile bigger than I need to and swallow against the hammering of my heart.

  I am so caught up in admiring him that he is almost to me before I realize he asked me a question and way too much silence has elapsed without me answering.

  So much for the cool voice.

  It’s only been a few seconds, and hopefully, the girls haven’t noticed that Mr. Haywood has basically rendered me speechless.

  I try to give him a professional and cool look. I hope my voice doesn’t sound like a high school cheerleader when I say, “We are. Going to a nursing home today. The residents just love to see the girls. And—”

  “It builds character. I get it.”

  He doesn’t sound super happy, but maybe he’s had a bad day at work. I realize I actually don’t know anything about him. Well, nothing about his current life. Like what he actually does for work.

  Tomorrow, his dad is on my rotation, and maybe I can get a little information out of him.

  I pick up on the subject I think bothers him. “You don’t have to go. I mean, of course you’re welcome to. But it will probably last longer than a typical ball practice, and I totally understand if you’ve worked all day, you don’t want to spend the rest of your afternoon and evening helping the elderly go shopping.”

  “Oh. That’s what we’re doing. Shopping with the elderly.”

  There’s something odd about his tone, and I nod slowly. My smile has slipped, and I know my eyes are slightly narrowed as I tilt my head, trying to figure out what’s going on. “Yes.”

  I almost repeat my offer that he doesn’t have to go, but I know he heard me plenty well the first time. Whatever his problem is, it can’t be anything that I’ve done.

  Lifting my chin, I turn back to the girls. “All four of you can fit in my car. Make sure you bring your bags and stuff with us, since we won’t be stopping back at the school before I drop you off at your houses.”

  “Should I follow you?”

  Trey’s tone still doesn’t seem quite right, but the look on his face is completely devoid of any emotion, and I stop trying to figure it out.

  “You can. We’re going to Cherry Tree Assisted Living.” I don’t need to explain where it is. It’s the only assisted living home in our county.

  Sure enough, he nods. “I’ll try to keep up,” he says, and I feel like there’s a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

  I’m not sure where that’s coming from.

  I turn and start walking. He falls into step beside me.

  “Is it okay if I ask a question?” he asks, and although it feels like that question should make him sound insecure, he actually doesn’t.

  “Sure. I hope I’m not so intimidating that you’re afraid to speak up.” I know I’m not.

  I’m the least intimidating person on the planet.

  “You can be fearsome,” he says, and my head jerks sideways, my eyes wide. That has to be a joke.

  Trey looks just as serious as he did when we were standing back with the girls.

  “You have to be the only person in the world who thinks that way. No one has ever accused me of being scary, or intimidating, or even loud.”

  Probably if I had been a little bit more assertive, I wouldn’t have been married as long as I had been. I really let my ex walk all over me.

  I guess staying married had been more important to me than getting my own way.

  In the end, it hadn’t mattered. He found someone else anyway.

  “Maybe I see a side of you that no one else does.”

  I laugh. “In a way, that’s true. You live beside me, so no one else gets the view of my house that you do.”

  “Where’s Melody?” He looks around.

  “Is that the question you are free to ask me?” I ask, and I’m not really joking. I’m kind of aghast that he would feel like he needed to ask permission to ask a question like that.

  “No. I just realized she’s not around. And I thought you’d made her stay the last time because you didn’t want her home alone.”

  “Oh, yeah. My mom and sister had gone to Coeur d’Alene, and there was no one home.” I should have made her come, and normally I would have, but she’s been working on this big science project, hoping to place well in the local competition and move on to regionals.

  “So she’s with your sister?”

  “Yeah. I’ll pick her up on the way home.”

  “She’s not interested in basketball?”

  “No. She inherited my propensity for science. I have to watch her pretty closely, or she’ll have experiments going on everywhere. Most of the time, they don’t explode, but every once in a while...”

  “I see. You have to worry about your house burning down.”

  “We live pretty close to the fire station, and with my mom being the fire chief, that’s not typically something I spend a lot of time worrying about, but yes, it could be a concern with Melody.”

  “I don’t recall you ever having a problem growing up.”

  “My love for science has more of a bent toward biology. Hers definitely veers off toward a lot of chemistry.” I hear the pride in my voice, and I try to temper it. Everyone’s proud of their kids. No one likes to hear anyone brag about them.

  “She’s smart.” It isn’t a question. He is making a statement, and it is really hard for me not to gush.

  “I guess.”

  “False modesty?”

  That is a question.

  “Guilty.” I slip my gaze over at him, and my eyes are crinkled. They match his.

  “I’m proud of my boys too. I get it.”

  “They’re with your ex?”

  “Yeah.”

  He doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t really feel like we know each other well enough for me to probe. Maybe by the end of the season.

  “The question I asked permission to ask is...” He clears his throat and slows slightly. The girls, giggling and chatting, walk
out of the gym. “Are we ever going to actually practice basketball at basketball practice?”

  Now he does sound a little insecure. His hands are clasped behind his back as he walks alongside me, and his shoulders move a little more than what they had been. Maybe it’s a tell. A nervous tell.

  Although I don’t know why he might be nervous asking me about that, unless he really cares about the answer.

  “It bothers you?” I ask, answering his question with one of my own, trying to figure out what the issue is.

  “Would it make you mad if I say it does bother me some?”

  “It won’t make me mad. But I don’t agree.”

  “You don’t think basketball practice should include basketball?”

  “I think there are more important things in life than basketball. And spending a lot of time learning how to play it is a waste. But going to an assisted living home and helping other people is not.”

  “I can’t argue with you about helping people. I think that’s a good thing. But I also think it’s a good thing to exercise, to learn skills, to have the discipline to keep working at something and get better. There are a lot of lessons to be learned in sports. They’re not necessarily completely worthless.”

  He has me figured out. Because that’s exactly how I feel about sports. Completely worthless. For the most part anyway.

  I suppose he is kind of right in a lot of ways though. There are lessons a person can learn, and the ones he is talking about are some of the good ones.

  I don’t want to argue with him, and I really don’t have anything planned for Tuesday, so I say, “We’ll practice basketball on Tuesday. Does that satisfy you?”

  He doesn’t need to answer me. His lips have curved up in a contented smile like I handed him a victory.

  Maybe I did.

  I certainly hadn’t been planning on practicing basketball on Tuesday. But if it would make him happy, we could use Tuesday as basketball something or other and then continue to build character in the girls by doing other things on Thursday.

  “It does. Thank you.”

  Chapter 13

  Trey

  I WALK INTO LONE PINE Tavern and take a seat at the corner table over by the far wall.