The Hating Season (Seasons #2) - K.A.Linde Page 0,53
before.
I pulled up the app, expecting to see the car parked on the Upper East Side in front of an apartment building or something. But instead, it was parked on the Upper West near Central Park.
“Weird,” I muttered to myself and then flagged a cab down to take me to the car.
It was a half-hour trek to get to the car’s location on my phone. I was certain that it would move, and I’d have to follow it around through the city. But no. It was exactly where the app said it would be, parked harmlessly in front of a bagel shop.
I paid my cab and strode over to the car. I rapped on the window twice. The driver rolled his window down.
His eyes rounded in surprise. “You’re… English, right?”
“That’d be me,” I said with a smile. “I’m here for Court. Can you point me in the right direction?”
“Yeah. Sure.” He stepped out of the vehicle and gestured in front of him. “One block up into Central Park, and then he’s on the third field on the left.”
The third field? What the hell?
He must have seen my confusion. “Do you want me to walk you?”
“No. That’s quite all right. Thank you.”
“No problem. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“I will.”
I headed across Central Park West toward the fields inside the park. I regretted my heels and lack of jacket as I hustled through the tree-lined trails. It opened up onto an array of fields—soccer, kick ball, lacrosse, baseball. They were all completely packed. A few games were going on, but mostly, it looked like practice.
The driver had said the third field. So, I headed that way and stopped before I reached the field. My eyes couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing.
It was a lacrosse field with several dozen upper-elementary-school-aged kids running drills. They all wore matching red-and-white T-shirts and shorts with helmets and gloves and sticks. Most of them were drenched in sweat but appeared to be both deep in concentration and having the time of their lives.
None of that was unusual.
What was out of place… was the coach.
I recognized him from a hundred yards off.
Court Kensington coached youth lacrosse.
My jaw dropped open at the sight of him. He looked hot as fuck out there in red shorts and a white T-shirt. A whistle dangled from his neck, and he had a stick in his hand, demonstrating some move that I had no hope of imagining its purpose. I’d never seen anyone play lacrosse. It was a rich white guy sport. But the way Court handled that stick made me wonder why I’d never given it a chance.
My mouth went dry. I was staring. Surely, he would be able to feel my eyes drilling into the back of his head.
But he never looked up. His full attention was on the team of boys learning the sport that he’d played all through college. In fact, it was the very sport that I’d made him donate a shit-ton of money to when we first started working together.
My eyes scanned the logo on their shirt. It was the same recreation team. He’d funded the team. And now, he coached them.
How had this happened? How had he kept this from me? Why had he kept this from me?
Surely, he could see how good this would look to the press.
And then I realized that was why he hadn’t told me. He didn’t want it in the press. It wasn’t about him. It was about the kids and the love of the sport. Court Kensington had a heart.
I had completely misjudged him.
He wasn’t who I’d thought he was at all.
I slowly backed away. As much as I wanted to watch him coach those boys, I knew he wanted this all to himself for a reason. And I wouldn’t be the one to take this away from him.
20
English
As I slipped into my black cocktail dress for Penn and Natalie’s wedding reception tonight, my stomach twisted with doubt. I hadn’t gone to see Court. We hadn’t discussed what I’d seen. Or the assumptions I had made about him.
I kept wanting to do it. To tell him that I was wrong about what I’d said to him. Not that he’d given me an indication that he was in someway a different sort of person than he presented to anyone else. And it was unfair for him to place all the blame on me for not seeing past his facade. But I should have.