“Obviously.” I mimic her tone. I’ve seen my sister cry a total of four times in her life. Once when her cat died. The three other times were when she was pregnant with the twins.
She doesn’t have a cat right now so…
“Are you pregnant?” In hindsight, I will admit I said that louder than necessary.
“What?” Jeremy yells just as loud, so I shouldn’t carry all the blame. “You’re pregnant?”
Even the kids stop running around to look over.
A shirt lands on my shoulder, and I take it, sliding it over my head like a dutiful brother. I’ve attracted enough attention for the evening.
“I’m going to kill you,” Collins mutters through tight lips. “Enjoy being the coach now.” She shoves the whistle against my chest and I flinch. Sometimes I forget how aggressive she is. She goes to talk to her husband, who is probably doing all kinds of daunting mathematical calculations for the future in his head.
Cost of raising three children in this economy…? Too much.
I study the team. My team. They look a lot different than the team I led into a supposedly desolate village in Iraq. But they are a lot cuter.
“Alright, kids.” I blow the whistle even though the kids are already out on the field running around in circles. “Hustle up and kick some balls.”
Several people gasp and I raise the whistle to my mouth again, ready to stop the game for whatever just happened. But all the parents are staring at me.
What did I just say?Oh shoot.I glance at Lyndi, who is very poorly hiding her laughter behind her palm.
“I meant soccer balls. Go get it, guys.” I’m terrible at this job.
I was a terrible leader of my last team, too. That’s what got half of them killed.
My heart thuds against my rib cage and I struggle to get enough air into my lungs.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
In and out.
I’m not in Iraq. These kids aren’t in danger.
Not right now anyway. There’s always danger, whether it’s visible or not.
It’s not enough. Nothing I do will ever be enough to undo the damage I did there. Not the hours I spend fighting fires and inhaling enough smoke to get lung damage.
I’ll always let everyone down.
“You should try smiling.”
The air whooshes from my lungs like I’ve been sucker-punched. I blink and look to my left. My breath only catches more when I meet Lyndi’s bright blue eyes.
“Huh?”
She points to my forehead. “Your frown is scaring the kids. And the parents.”
I was frowning? “Sorry.” I release the tension from my forehead and return to my normal “resting brooding face.”
My sister’s words, not mine.
Lyndi tugs at a strand of her long hair, twisting it around her finger. “It’s fine. You don’t scare me. I know how to take you down.”
I choke on the air that was supposed to go straight down my windpipe. Why did that sound suggestive? And how does she keep getting the best of me?
