Page 15 of The Rebound Play
Of all the scenarios I thought could play out when I saw my high school girl for the first time since we broke up, not once did it occur to me that she might be in love with someone else. That she might have fallen in love and be married with kids. That she’d well and truly moved on from me.
What was I thinking? Of course she’s moved on. It’s been ten years! Of all people, I know what a truly amazing person Keira Johnson is. Of course she’s been snapped up by some guy, some guy I’m having seriously negative feelings about, right about now.
All this time I’ve been comparing every woman I meet with her and seeing them come up short, and she’s moved on, gotten married, and become a mom.
I’m an idiot. A total idiot.
As Scotty outlines some of his ideas for training, due to start up in a couple days, I steal a glance at her. She’s still as beautiful as she was back in high school—only more so. Not that I thought that was possible. Back then, she was easily the most beautiful girl in town. Her face has matured: her once plump face now less so, showing her high cheekbones. Her eyes are still the same gray-blue, her lips still full and luscious. Her blonde hair is cut shorter than it was when she was seventeen, falling softly just below her shoulders, framing her face.
She’s the kind of woman you can’t help but notice, but who you know isn’t looking for attention.
We were opposites back in high school, her and me. I was the jock, always at practice, always with my teammates, playing games, hanging out. She was more of a loner, with just a few close friends, but a whole lot more studious than me. Some people called her a nerd back then, but they didn’t know her. Not the real her. Sure, she liked books, and she did great at school, but there is so much more to her than just being bookish and smart. She always saw the best in people. She was kind, even to the people who labelled her, who questioning why a popular jock like me would go for a girl like her. Why not a cheerleader type?
I knew why.
Because they weren’t Keira.
“Roberts? You with me?”
I pull my attention back to the two guys I’m standing with.
“Yeah. Just lost in some memories, I guess,” I tell them.
Scotty glances at Keira. She’s got her nose buried in her book again and doesn’t look up. “An old girlfriend or something?” he asks.
How the heck did he guess that?
Who am I kidding? I must have it written all over my dang face.
She’s the one I could never forget.
I clear my throat. “It was a long time ago.”
Scotty smirks. “She’s pretty. Bookish, by the looks, but then you know what they say: opposites attract.”
“She’s smart. Smarter than me, anyways,” I reply.
Scotty grins. “I always say when it comes to exes, it’s best not to be an archaeologist.”
I regard him quizzically. “Meaning?”
“Don’t dig up the past.” He grins at me as though his total dad joke was somehow funny.
“Archaeologist. Dig. I get it,” I reply. It might not be funny, but this guy is one of my coaches for the next six weeks. I always find with coaches that it pays to get on their good side.
“You played for the Peaks, right?” I ask, purposefully moving the focus away from me and Keira.
Not that there is a me and Keira anymore. Or ever will be, by the looks of things.
I try not to let that idea take hold. I mean, I don’t know for sure she’s a mom or even married.
There’s still hope.
“Yeah, it’s been a while. I’m a coach these days, but I still like to get out there on the ice.” He regards the rink with a look that can only be described as wistful, and I get the feeling he misses the game.
“It must be weird to come back to your hometown to play. I bet it brings back some memories,” Troy says. “My wife Kelly and I are relatively new to the area. Did you play at this rink a lot?”
Memories of me playing in high school wash over me, of the wins and losses, the highs and lows, of Keira always in the stands, cheering me on. Wearing my jersey.