“So you feel like you lost,” I said stepping forward. “So you worked hard for a whole week, got here today, tried your hardest, and got beat.” All heads were looking at me now, eyes wide and sparkly with a sentiment that, had I been smarter, I would have interpreted as my cue to shut up. But it bothered me seeing them like this. “Well, news flash, girlies. Life is not a walk in the park. Life is hard. Sometimes you win and oftentimes you lose. But this is only the outcome of one game. You fall and then you stand up and chase after the… little league cup.”
I sensed Adalyn shuffle closer. “There’s no cup,” she whispered loudly. “The prize is a trip to the Jungle Rapids Family Fun Park.”
“I love the Jungle Rapids,” Juniper grumbled.
“So you fall and then stand up and chase after the… trip to the Jungle Rapids,” I continued. “Tripping only toughens you. It’s moments like these that harden you. And believe me, you have a minimum of three more games ahead of you, so toughen up.”
María sniffed loudly. “But—” Another sniff. “I… I don’t want to be hard. Or tough. I want to be soft.” Her head turned toward Adalyn. “Miss Adalyn, tell Coach Carwash that girls can be both.”
My gaze jumped from the girl to the woman by my side, who was now glaring at me.
“It’s a figure of speech,” I explained. But it didn’t seem to make a difference with either of them, because María sniffed again, and Adalyn went from pissed to… sad. I shook my head. “Girls can be soft and hard, yes, all at the same time. I also wanted to win today, all right? I wanted you to beat those kids and wipe the floor with them. But you didn’t.” I heard a sob, and my eyes widened. “That’s another figure of speech. Listen—”
“Coach.” Adalyn’s hand fell on my arm, and I could feel how cold it was through the fabric of my jacket. “I don’t think this is helping.”
“Adalyn.” I stepped toward her, as if my body had a mind of its own. She was freezing. “Darling—”
“I’m fine,” she said, but she had to be lying. She was shivering in that stupid trench coat she had insisted was enough. “But the girls are not. They’re sad, and I know you mean well, but you’re not making it better.”
In confirmation, a few more sobs broke out in the group.
“I’m not good with motivational stuff,” I muttered.
“I see that,” Adalyn answered. She lowered her voice. “They are crying, though. And I don’t know what to do with crying children, Cameron.”
A throat was cleared behind us.
I turned to find Tony planted on my other side. He’d been hanging out in the stands after being asked by Adalyn to drive the girls to Rockstone in a minibus she’d arranged for.
“Can I…” He hesitated, scratching that mass of brown shaggy hair atop his head. “Can I suggest something? Hmm, sir?” His cheeks reddened. “Ma’am?”
“Please,” we said at the same time.
“Sno-cones.”
“Sno-cones?” I repeated.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “It’s like ice cream but… without the cream? Sorry, I’m sure you know what they are. I saw a coffee stand outside when I was parking the van. It’s a little cold, but I know for a fact they will go crazy over them. The stand had a sign—”
“Yes,” I rushed out. “Ice-lollies, of course. Ice cream.” Some of the kids looked in our direction, still weeping but definitely interested. “How fast can you fetch them?”
“Huh, fast?”
I pulled out my wallet and slapped more than enough cash in his hand. “Grab me something hot, too, all right?” I checked the time. It was past noon. “Not coffee. Tea, cocoa, or whatever else they have. The largest size. And keep the change.”
“Yes, sir,” Tony said, looking down. His eyes widened. “Whoa. This is… thank you, sir.”
“Just Cam,” I told him. “Now go.”
Tony shot off running, disappearing through the crowd of Rockstone parents and locals gathered around the field.
My wrist was squeezed.
With the commotion, I’d missed how Adalyn’s hand had shifted to my sleeve and was holding on to it. “I hope the sno-cones work.”
“I hope so, too,” she said with a little tug at my jacket. Without thought or reason, I brought her hand between mine. Then, quickly snatched her other one and trapped both between my palms. Her words were wobbly when she spoke next, “You really suck at speeches.”
I looked up at her, expecting to see a complaint in her face. But there wasn’t any frown. Her nose was red, her eyes glassy, and her lips shaped in a pout that told me she was relieved by the way my hands were rubbing hers, warming them up.
“Maybe that’s the one thing I don’t know how to do,” I admitted. I brought our hands to my chest. And when she gave me one of those tiny smiles, I had to stop myself from pulling her into me. “I can’t believe I told them to toughen up.”
“No wonder they cried,” she said in a serious voice. “For a second, I thought even you were going to cry. It was terrible, really.”
I stared at her. At her lips, now twitching. Bending upward. I couldn’t believe she was teasing me. With a goddamn smile.
I pulled at her arms, gently but firmly enough to make her stumble toward me. Our hands were sandwiched by our chests.
“It was worth it.”
Her breath caught. “What was?”
“The tears,” I answered, my eyes fixated on her mouth. “Me making a fool of myself and bringing a team of kids to tears. It was worth it. Because it made you smile.”
Her expression remained frozen for a second, and then it crumbled down. Her lips parted, her eyes glazed over, and her cheeks turned pink in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. “Cameron,” she said. Just that. My name.
“I warned you,” I told her, because I’d been serious. “I’m a selfish man.”
A loud burst of giggles erupted behind her, making whatever bubble we’d just been in burst. Adalyn snagged her hands from my grasp. We both turned around.