Page 44 of Lose You Twice

Donnelly taps his pen once against the desk. “Any issue working around them?”

“No.” My answer comes out fast. Too fast.

He notices, one of his brows raising.

I expect him to call me on it.

Instead, he says, “The players won’t be your bosses. I will. You’ll answer to me, sometimes Coach, sometimes the assistant equipment staff if we get another hire approved. You won’t be alone in the locker room with the team, and you won’t be expected to tolerate anyone making your job harder. Clear?”

Relief moves through me before I can hide it.

“Yes. Clear.”

“I mean that,” he says. “Some of these guys are good kids with loud mouths. Some are idiots. Occasionally, one is both. If any of them gives you a problem, you tell me.”

“Okay.”

“You don’t handle it yourself.”

I almost smile.

Handling things myself is most of my personality at this point.

But he is being serious, so I nod. “I understand.”

He looks back at my application. “You wrote household responsibilities under experience.”

I fight the urge to cringe. “I wasn’t sure how to phrase it.”

“Tell me what that means.”

“It means I manage a lot at home.” I keep my voice even. “School drop-offs, pickups, meals sometimes, laundry, homework, schedules. My mom works at the hospital, so everyone pitches in.”

Not a lie. Not all of it either.

Donnelly hears the missing parts. I can tell by the way his face changes.

He doesn’t pity me, which I appreciate.

He just nods.

“Equipment work is in the details,” he says. “A lot of repetitive details nobody notices unless they’re wrong. If a guy’s missing a jersey, he notices. If his skates are where they should be, he doesn’t. You okay with doing work most people only see when something goes wrong?”

I think about lunch boxes. Permission slips. Grocery lists. Gas. The twins’ socks. Justin’s poster board. Mom’s bills. Holden’s quiet worry.

I know invisible work. The things that most would think nothing of, yet if it wasn’t done, chaos would ensue.

“Yes,” I say. “I’m okay with that.”

Donnelly watches me for another second. Then he nods once, like he decided something.

“Can you start Friday?”

My heart rate spikes; I didn’t think it would be that soon. “Yes.”

“Paperwork has to clear through work-study, but I’ll tell them I want you. Friday would be shadowing. Mostly walking you through how we do inventory, laundry flow, all of that stuff.”

That means I have at least two days to become a person who can be normal around Kai Mercer.