He approached the teen, trying to look friendly rather than menacing, then sat on a nearby bench.
“Hey,” he said softly. “I’m Coach Kinne.”
She sniffed and looked at him. Her eyes were red, her skin pale. “I know who you are.”
“What’s going on?” Don’t be pregnant, don’t be pregnant, he chanted silently.
More tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’m pregnant. The father is Dylan. Only, he says he’s not, and I can’t tell my m-mom because she’ll be so mad and he said he l-loved me.”
And just like that Keith watched his Monday fall directly into the crapper.
* * *
Keith left work exactly at three fifteen. He would be returning to his office to finish up paperwork, supervise a couple of workouts and review final grades for athletes hovering on the edge of academic problems. But first, he had pressing personal business.
He drove the two short miles to his house, walked inside and headed directly for his seventeen-year-old daughter’s room.
Lissa looked up from her laptop when he entered, her smile fading as she figured out he was in a mood. Despite the attitude, she was a beauty. Long dark hair, big brown eyes. Damn it all to hell—why couldn’t he have an ugly daughter who no guy would look twice at?
“Hi, Dad,” she said, sounding wary. “What’s up?”
“Spot check.”
She rolled her eyes. “Seriously? There is something wrong with you. I heard what happened at school today. It’s not my fault. I’m not dumb enough to date a guy like Dylan, who would tell a tree stump he loved it if it would have sex with him. I’m not sleeping with anyone and I’m not pregnant. I told you—I’m not ready to have sex, as in I’m still a virgin. You’re obsessed. Would you feel better if I wore a chastity belt?”
“Yes, but you won’t. I’ve asked.”
“Da-ad. Why are you like this? Pregnancy isn’t the worst thing that could happen. I could be sick and dying. Wouldn’t that be terrible?”
“You can’t win this argument with logic. I’m irrational. I accept that. But I’m also the parent, so you have to deal with me being irrational.”
He pointed to her bathroom. She sighed the long-suffering sigh of those cursed with impossible fathers and got up. He followed her to the doorway and watched as she pulled a small plastic container out of the bathroom drawer and opened it.
Relief eased the tension in his body. Pills were missing. The right number of pills.
“You are a nightmare father,” his daughter said, shoving the pills back in the drawer. “I can’t wait until I’m eighteen and I can get the shot instead of having to take birth control pills. Then you’ll only bug me once every few months.”
“I can’t wait, either.”
“It’s not like I even have a boyfriend.”
“You could be talking to someone online.”
Her annoyance faded as she smiled at him. “Dad, only one of us in this house does the online dating thing and it’s not me.”
“I don’t online date.”
“Fine. You pick up women online, then go off and have sex with them for the weekend. It’s gross. You should fall in love with someone you’re not embarrassed to bring home to meet me.”
“I’m not embarrassed. I just don’t want complications.”
“But you do want to have sex. It’s yucky.”
“Then why are we talking about it?” He pulled her close and hugged her, then kissed the top of her head. “Sorry, Lissa. I can’t help worrying about you.”
She looked up at him. “Dad, I’m taking my pills every day. Not that it matters, because I’m not having sex. I’m not. I’ve barely kissed a guy. Having you as my father makes it really difficult to date. Guys don’t want to mess with you and risk being beat up.”
“Good.”
She smiled even as she hit him in the arm. “You’re repressing my emotional growth.”
“Just don’t get pregnant.”
“You need to find a more positive message. How about ‘Be your best self’?”
“That, too. Gotta go.”
“I’m having dinner with Jessie tonight. Remember?”
“No problem. Be home by ten.”
He got back in his truck, but before starting the engine, he quickly texted Ellen. I need a couple of beers and a friendly ear. You around tonight?
The response came quickly. Only if you bring fried chicken. I have beer and ice cream.
You’re on. See you at six.
* * *
Ellen couldn’t figure out why a six-foot-five-inch, seventeen-year-old guy crying bothered her more than pretty much any teenage girl crying. Was it reverse sexual discrimination? Because boys cried less often, their tears had more value? Was it the sheer size of Luka juxtaposed with the implied vulnerability of tears? As she was unlikely to figure out an answer, she decided to ignore the question.
“Luka, you’re going to be fine,” she said, reaching up to pat the teen on his shoulder as Cooper hovered nearby. “You’ll take the online Spanish class and you’ll do great. You’re plenty smart. You just got complacent.”
“He thought because he’s such a hotshot on the field, his shit didn’t stink,” Coop said, then groaned. “Sorry, Mom. Um, I meant to say, uh, poop.”
She turned to her son and raised her eyebrows. She was pleased that, despite his age and size, he took a step back and swallowed.
“I’m really sorry,” he added.
“As you should be. Luka, Coach isn’t throwing you off the bus.”
“You didn’t see him. He was really mad. He said I was an idiot.”
Not exactly the word she would have chosen, but then she didn’t spend much time in the jock/jockette world.
“You know how he gets. You disappointed him and he reacted. You’re a leader, so he expects better of you.”
More tears filled Luka’s eyes. Next to him, Coop winced.
“What if I can’t get an A?”
“You won’t with that attitude.”
Luka sniffed. “That’s what Coach said.”
Cooper leaned close. “It’s a teacher thing. They think alike. Welcome to my world.”
She did her best not to smile. Her boys, she thought fondly. Cooper and his friends had been running in and out of her life since he’d been old enough to invite kids over to play. Luka had been a staple in her life for nearly a decade. He and his family had moved here from Yap (a tiny island in Micronesia—she’d had to look it up). Luka and Coop had met the first day of second grade and been best friends ever since.
“Luka, I forbid you to think about this any more today. Your mom is waiting for you. Go have a nice dinner and relax this evening. Tomorrow, get your butt in gear and get going on the Spanish studies.” She hesitated. “I’ll talk to Coach and make sure you’re still on the college trip.”
His dark eyes brightened. “You will? Thanks, Ms. F. That would be great.”
Before she could step back, Luka grabbed her and lifted her up in the air. It was not a comfortable feeling, but all of Coop’s friends seemed to do it. He swung her around twice before setting her down, then gave Coop a high five. Both teens headed for the door.
“I’ll be back by ten,” Coop yelled over his shoulder.
“Have fun.”
Ellen gave herself a little shake to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be and that nothing had been crushed, then stepped out on her small deck to check out the heat level. The front of the house faced south, leaving the backyard in shade in the early evening. The temperature was close to eighty, but bearable.
The deck overlooked a small patch of lawn edged by fencing. Nothing fancy, but it was hers and she loved it. She quickly wiped off the metal table and dusted the chairs before putting out place mats, plenty of paper napkins and a cut-up lime. She’d alrea
dy made a green salad to counteract the calories from the fried chicken. Shortly after six, she heard a knock on the front door, followed by a familiar voice calling, “It’s me.”
“In the kitchen,” she yelled as she opened the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of beer. Dos Equis for him and a Corona for herself. She waited in the kitchen to greet him, then glared when she saw the extra to-go container in his hand.
“What?” she demanded. “We agreed on chicken.”
He held up the KFC bucket. “I brought chicken. Original, because you like it.”
“Don’t distract me. Are those potatoes? You never said anything about potatoes. I can’t eat those.”
“Actually, you can. I’ve seen you. You have no trouble using a fork.”
She set his beer on the table. “Do you know how many calories are in those mashed potatoes? Like a billion. I’m not some macho athletic guy.”
Keith gave her an unapologetic smile. “I’d still be friends with you if you were.” He set down the food. “Stop worrying about it. You look fine.” He glanced at her. “As far as anyone can tell.”
She ignored that and refused to look down at her oversize tunic and baggy pants. “I like to be comfortable.”
“Wear yoga pants.”
“They’re hardly appropriate for work. Loose clothing allows me to move freely on the job.” She ducked back into the house to get the salad, then joined him at the table.
He’d already taken his usual seat and opened both to-go containers. The smell of fried chicken reminded her she hadn’t eaten since lunch, which felt like two days ago. Her stomach growled and her mouth watered.
Keith put a chicken breast on her plate, then handed her the mashed potatoes. She put slices of lime in both their beers. Their movements were familiar. Comfortable.
Coach Keith Kinne and his daughter had moved to Willowbrook five years ago. He’d joined the faculty of Birchly High as the football coach and athletic director. Washington State might not have the religious fervor of Texas when it came to high school football, but there was still a lot of enthusiasm and the six-foot-two-inch, good-looking, dark-haired former NFL player had caught a lot of ladies’ attention.
Not hers, though. Mostly because she didn’t date—there wasn’t time and no one she met was ever that interesting. So when she’d found him cornered by a slightly aggressive novice teacher from the English department, Ellen had stepped in to save him and their friendship had been born. They hung out together because it was easy and they complemented each other. He’d helped her when she’d bought a new-to-her car a couple of years ago and she went Christmas shopping with him for his daughter.
“Why are you smiling?” he asked, picking up his beer.
“Just thinking that it’s nice we’re friends. Imagine how awkward things would have been if I’d gone after you when you first moved here.”
He frowned. “Don’t say that. If you had, we might not be friends now. I was fresh off a divorce and I wasn’t looking for trouble.”
“I’m not trouble.”
“You would have been if we’d dated.”
What on earth did he mean? “Trouble how?”
“You know. Boy-girl trouble.” He put down his beer. “Speaking of dating, Lissa got on me about my internet relationships.”
“You don’t have internet relationships. You find women to have sex with.”
He winced. “That’s what she said. Have you two been talking about me behind my back?”
“Oh, please. We have so many more interesting things to talk about. Besides, it’s what you do.” She’d never understood the appeal of casual sex. It seemed so impersonal. Shouldn’t that level of intimacy be part of a relationship? Otherwise, sex was just as romantic as passing gas.
“She told me to find someone I wasn’t embarrassed by so she could meet her.”
“That’s nice.”
“It freaked me out.”
Ellen grinned. “That’s because there are emotions attached to relationships and you don’t like emotions.”
“I like some of them. I like winning.”
“Winning isn’t an emotion.”
“Fine. I like how winning makes me feel.” His expression turned smug. “I get emotions.”
“You’re faking it.” She let her smile fade. “Cooper wants to go to UCLA.”
“Are you sure? He told me Stanford.”
She heard a ringing in her ears as her whole world tilted. “Wh-what? Stanford? No. He can’t.”
“Why not? They have a better wrestling program. I’ve spoken to the coach there and he’s really interested. I’m working on getting Coop a one-on-one meeting when we visit the school. With his skills and grades, he’s got a good shot at getting in.”
“I’m going to faint.”
“Why? You should be happy.”
She glared at him. “Happy? Are you insane? I can’t afford UCLA and it’s a state school. How on earth would I pay for Stanford? Plus, why isn’t Cooper telling me about things like meeting a coach? I should know that.”
“Breathe,” Keith told her. “If he goes to Stanford, you’ll be fine. With what you make, his tuition will be covered. If he gets a partial scholarship, it could go toward room and board. Stanford would be a lot cheaper for you than UCLA.”
Her panic faded. “Are you sure?”
He looked at her. “You have to ask me that?”
“Sorry. Of course you’re sure. You do this all the time.” She picked up her chicken. “Yay, Stanford. Go team.”
“You don’t have any contact with his dad, do you? Because his income would count.”
“No contact,” she said cheerfully. “Jeremy disappeared before Coop was born. I hear from him every five or six years for five seconds and then he’s gone again. He signed his rights away and he’s never given me a penny.” She smiled. “I say that without bitterness because I’m loving the Stanford dream.”
Keith grinned. “You’re saying you can be bought for the price of tuition?”
She smiled back at him. “I can be bought for a whole lot less than that. So why didn’t he tell me about wanting to go to Stanford? Why is he keeping secrets?”
“He’s growing up. Becoming a man. He needs his own dreams and plans.”
“But I’m his mom and he’s my baby boy. I don’t want that to change. Make him stop growing up.”
“Sorry. Not my superpower.”
“You should work on that. It would be really helpful.”
“Most parents want their kids to mature and have their own lives.”
She remembered what it had been like when Coop had been younger. It had been the two of them against the world. “I miss being the most important person in his life, but you’re right. He needs to make his own way. What are the Stanford colors? Will they look good on me?”
Can’t wait to find out what happens next? Preorder your copy of The Friendship List today!
Copyright © 2020 by Susan Mallery, Inc.
ISBN: 9781488055386
Sisters by Choice
Copyright © 2020 by Susan Mallery, Inc.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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