Page 16 of (La)Crosse My Heart (Sweet Sports Kisses #7)

Jessa

O ur adventure in the park was very eye-opening.

I should probably try to keep Clark away with a ten-foot pole, but I find myself more and more at ease around him. I don’t feel like I have to change anything or be someone I’m not. His light teasing is actually kind of fun, too.

Who am I and what happened to the crazy type-A Jessa?

I’m not completely gone, but is this what it’s like when I relax? It’s been so long since I’ve had that luxury.

With Dan, it felt like I was always wound up.

I’d be worried about why he wasn’t looking for work, even after borrowing money from me a number of times.

Then I’d spend hours putting together the perfect date, hoping that if everything was done exactly how I envisioned it, the spark we’d had at the beginning of our relationship would return.

That was more of a subconscious thought than anything.

Each and every time I’d head home disappointed that things weren’t how I wanted them to be.

And yet, yesterday was practically a dumpster fire and I have nothing but good feelings about it.

I’m grateful Clark wasn’t seriously injured when he fell off the monkey bars. That’s probably the last time I should get “real ideas” from the internet about how to get out of a rut.

I’ve probably replayed the scene where I impulsively invited Clark over to watch a show a hundred times.

He was kind about saying he had something, which is why I need to keep telling myself he’s not interested in me like that.

I shouldn’t be either, but there was a point while I was sitting in the sand that I didn’t care about the consequences of anything.

On the off-chance Clark might be attracted to me, would I give up this job to see where it went?

That’s something I’ll have to think about more deeply, when I’m not trying to track down information about an event that can give Clark some good practice at communicating. I’d imagine there will be a bunch of cameras around as well.

Maybe we should try exposure therapy?

I laugh and shake my head, knowing that buying one camera was a stretch to my budget.

I focus on the notebook in front of me.

After a lot of research, this Play It Forward event sounds like such a great thing, but it would be nice if someone were available to answer questions. I wanted to get things ready so I could prep the team, but it’s been all quiet on the Wasatch Front.

Maybe another call would help? Or should I look for another charity?

It isn’t until around two that afternoon when I get a whirlwind of emails and messages about the Play It Forward event. It’s about time.

I call Clark, waiting for him to answer.

He finally picks up right before his voicemail.

"Hey," he says, his words soft because he's out of breath.

"Hey, are you running?"

He chuckles and says, "Yeah. Well, I just finished. What's up? Are we doing some more princess training?"

"Did you just call yourself a princess?"

"I couldn't come up with another funny line that quickly."

We both laugh, and it feels good to do it so randomly. Just like when we were at the park. Ugh, I can’t keep collecting moments like this.

"No training today. We'll just need to be ready for tomorrow. The event starts at ten in the morning. I’ll send you the address to the park.

You'll be meeting a bunch of kids from the community and teaching them a bit about lacrosse.

" I glance down at the emails and search to make sure my information is correct.

"It looks like you'll have the freedom to teach them whatever you want. "

"So are we running a practice of sorts? A clinic? What are the people expecting us to do?"

I grit my teeth, wishing I had more information about that.

"I'm not sure. This is the least amount of information for any event I've ever been part of.

I would think that coming up with a plan with your roomies would be a good idea, though.

It's never good when the kids suffer because of lack of communication.

" I scan one of the emails again and see an apology for the late information. “It sounds like their communications director had her baby early and they weren’t prepared.”

Now I feel bad for being irritated.

"I'll talk to the guys and we'll come up with something."

“Perfect. Let me know what I can help with. There will probably be a few cameras around, and they might need you to do an interview, so prep for that. I’ll be there to help. We can even call your mom beforehand if needed.”

He laughs, the deep rumbling doing something to my chest. “I don’t know if that would be any better, but I guess whatever will help the cause.”

We hang up, and I smile, thinking of Clark interacting with the kids. He'd always been good with the ones in our neighborhood as a teen and had even helped a bunch of the younger field rat siblings get excited when they saw him.

I'm curious to see what he comes up with for tomorrow. It’ll be a good time to get shots of all the players on my camera, and maybe I’ll do an impromptu interview to help him get used to it.

I spend the afternoon creating posts and trying to get things started for the social media platforms.

There's a call from Coach Martin around dinnertime, and while I'm mentally exhausted from the day, I know I probably shouldn't let it go to voicemail.

"Hey Coach," I say, leaning back on the wall in my bedroom. I glance around and see that I've moved so much while working in my bed that I've pulled the comforter almost all to the one side.

"Jessa, how did things go today?"

"They went well, Coach. How can I help you?" When I'm not in the mood for small talk, my filter slips.

"That's a great question. I was thinking about Clark and figured I'd check in. How are things coming along with him?"

"There's some progress, not a ton, but enough to give me hope."

"Good, good. Is there anything I can do?" he asks.

"Not unless you can think of anything that would help him get over this. I'm planning to do some fake interviews, and I've worked on his wardrobe. The guy needed help with his style."

Coach Marting chuckles. "That's awesome. I'm grateful for that. He's a good-looking guy who loves his comfort."

"Well, hopefully he's a little more ready to go. Also, does the organization not have a camera crew or social media people? I thought that was just standard stuff."

"You would think that, but we'll get there. Stockton just bought out the company less than a year ago, and while sometimes their movements feel slower than we'd like, they’ll get around to it. I'll push that along, though."

"Well, I started a new profile for the team. The other one only had a few strange posts anyway.”

“Yeah, that was probably Penny. She was the granddaughter of the old owners and they kind of let her do what she wanted.”

“That makes sense. It might not be big money at the beginning but every bit helps when we're trying to help the guys progress. I’ve got a camera and can get that started, if you’re okay with it?”

"That's outstanding, Jessa. If you need to be on the field to get shots for any of this, you have my approval. Anything that will help the guys get the recognition they deserve, I'm behind it."

I tear up a bit. Would Brock's career have looked different if he had someone like Coach Martin in his corner?

He'd been injured, but the coach hadn't given him the time of day when he came back the following year, looking at him as damaged goods.

"Thanks, Coach. That means a lot for even me, and I don't play."

"You know where to find me, Jessa. Have fun and I'll see you soon."

"Oh, before you go, have you heard about anything for this event tomorrow?"

Maybe the organization had sent the more intensive and detailed instructions to him.

"Yeah, it's going to be a good one. The Play It Forward organization donates the equipment and our guys will show up to interact with the kids."

"Do you have a time frame? I'm worried the guys won't show until noon and then the kids will miss most of the activities."

"Let me check on that." I wait for his words, my pen poised to write it down.

"Okay, it looks like we'll need to be there for registration at nine and then the day ends at three thirty."

I hadn’t planned something that long. "That helps. Are we filling the slots for registration or how is that working?"

"No, they’ll have a couple of people who come and do it. I think we can just play a few games and make it fun for the kids. I wish we had something the guys could sign for the kids."

Nodding, I try to think of something that would work. If they haven't had a camera person for their club, which makes it feel like this club is still in the nineteenth century, then they probably don't have some great action shots to create cards with.

But I took pictures at practice.

My photo editing skills are even more rusty than using a camera, so it might not be a good idea to try anything fancy.

"I'll see what I can do," I say.

"Thanks for all you do. We're already making progress in the few days since you've been here."

I laugh. "I don't think I've done much of anything yet."

To be honest, I'm a little let down by my progress so far. The athletes I'd worked with in the past had been easier than Clark, although not as interesting.

Maybe it's the oldest daughter people pleasing in me taking over with those thoughts, but I'm hoping to get rid of some of that now that I'm not living at home.

I plug the camera into my older laptop and start scrolling through the pictures I took the other day at practice. Maybe there's something I can do with these.

It’s going to take a miracle.