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I rush over to his room, and this boy who used to wake up at five in the morning to play with Lego sets now won’t budge when I try to wake him up.
I try to get him in bed earlier at night, but he keeps pushing and pushing for a later bedtime.
So I do the mean mom thing. I pull open his curtains and let light stream into the room while I grab him a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from his drawer. I toss them on his bed. “Get dressed! I’m getting in the shower!”
We have an hour, but it’s never enough time. Every morning feels like the same rush, and I wish I knew some magical solution to fix that, but it is what it is. And Fridays when he’s going to Jeremy’s house are even worse since I need to pack his overnight essentials in his backpack.
We plow through breakfast and rush out to the bus stop, and he bats me away when I give him a million kisses since I won’t see him until Monday after school. Jeremy will pick him up from school and drop him there on Monday. Or, more than likely, his wife Alyssa will be doing the pickup since he’ll probably still be at work, but either way, it means my heart will be in another place for the next eighty or so hours.
I hate it.
Every single time, I hate it.
But as much as I want to, I can’t wallow.
Cade is at his dad’s house this weekend, too, and Sam is off work, so we’ve already planned a night out together to get our minds off…well, everything.
I work for a few minutes at home—checking the news, reviewing the scripts for a few different off-season story ideas, and emailing Marcus. And then I head to the Complex for the media meeting with the general manager.
The closer I get, the more my heart thunders at the thought of running into him. This is Steve’s meeting, but certainly Lincoln will be here somewhere in this building.
It feels like I can’t take a deep enough breath at the thought. He’s already suffocating me and we’ve barely had any interactions at all.
I go straight to the press room, where I find a very small group of familiar reporter faces. A team assistant standing at the entry hands me a notebook, and inside is a listing of every team-related activity this season.
I glance through it.
It’s lengthy.
It’s not just the game schedule that’s typically issued publicly. This is a comprehensive breakdown of everything, from practices to charity events to camps to flights and accommodations for every away game.
It’s my life for the next year.
The problem? It’s also Lincoln Nash’s life for the next year.
Steve steps up to the podium and says a few words welcoming us and taking us through the schedule. “Any questions?” he asks.
“How much input did Nash have on this, and where is he today?” James from CBS asks. “Coach Thompson was always here to talk that through with the media.”
I perk up at the question as my eyes move from my notebook up to Steve. I wasn’t here at the previous media itinerary days since my predecessor was, so I wouldn’t know to even ask that.
“I’ll start by reminding you that our new head coach will have his own way of doing things separate from that of Thompson,” Steve says, and I hear a few grunts around the room.
They don’t like Lincoln? I thought I was the only one. He seemed to show up and win everyone over immediately, but it’s hard to step into the shoes of such a legendary coach as Mitch Thompson.
“With that said, Coach Nash is with his family this weekend,” Steve finishes.
With his family.
The Nash family.
I wonder if he’s going to tell them he shoved me up against a wall and his lips were centimeters from mine.
I shake out the image.
A few others ask questions, and that’s it.
I rush over to James before he leaves. “What do you have against Nash?” I ask.
