One Little Chance (Sweet River)

Chapter 12

MARCH 4TH, 2023

Jordan

I hope the new favorite teacher didn’t catch a cold last night after our dinner

Me

No worries. Miss Sophia showed up to work this morning bright and early and healthy

ok, maybe not bright…or early. But definitely healthy!

Jordan

Good to hear. Had to check on ya, Sophie

thanks for being better than any valentine support group

O ne March morning, I woke up to the sound of children’s squeals and shouts, parents clapping, and the distinct thud of a soccer ball being kicked. Ah, I realized. Saturday soccer for the pre-K kiddos had begun across the street.

I hopped from my bed to my bedroom window to confirm, peeking through my mini blinds. Children were racing around in baggy tee shirts with glee, parents passing out juice boxes, and there was the finest soccer coach I’d ever seen standing in the midst of it all. I opened the blinds wider, taking in how well Jordan could pull off a baseball cap and sweatshirt when he looked straight toward me and cocked his head to the side curiously.

He couldn’t see me… Could he? I stepped back quickly, the blinds snapping shut.

I tiptoed out of my room to the kitchen even though no one could hear me. I tightened my robe as my coffee maker whirred to life.

My morning was quiet and calm as I ate my breakfast and tried to pretend Jordan wasn’t steps outside my window, even as my heart rocketed around inside my chest. I decided the best course of action was to proceed normally and don my usual running attire for my Saturday morning run. I did my pre-run stretch in my living room.

I walked out the front door and saw practice wrapping up in the park. Parents were picking up tired three-year-olds and packing up snack bags. I waited on my front porch, pretending to prepare a playlist or something on my phone, trying to muster up the courage to go over and say hi to Jordan after the mini blind moment.

Or maybe I could just pretend to casually run by him?

I glanced his way sneakily. He was crouching down talking to a group of kids. The group grinned to themselves and snickered.

I tucked my phone into my armband and started stretching my legs behind me. A little extra warm-up never hurt anyone.

“MISS SOPHIA! MISS SOPHIA!” I stopped what I was doing and jerked my head toward the park where little voices were shouting my name in unison.

“COACH JORDAN WANTS TO...” more excited whispering, then, “DRINK COFFEE WITH YOU!” This shouting was followed by tons of laughter. The kids beamed with pride as Jordan high-fived each one.

My cheeks literally hurt from smiling so wide at the utter cuteness. I immediately raced down my front porch steps. Running across the street to the sound of cheers from the kids and parents.

“COACH JORDAN, SHE’S COMING OVER HERE!” a little boy shouted.

“Will you? Will you drink coffee with him?” A tiny girl with pigtails asked when she saw me, cutting in between Jordan and me.

Jordan’s gaze was on me. He bit his lower lip. “I would love to have coffee with Coach Jordan,” I said, looking straight at him. Spotting the soccer ball a few feet from us, I added, “On one condition.”

“What’s that?” Jordan asked, crossing his arms.

“I think you should show off some of your moves for the kids.” I placed my hands on my hips.

“How do you reckon?”

“Well…” I started to take a few slow steps toward the ball, and he lifted a brow. I shuffled the ball while I said, “Come and get it?”

The remaining kids squealed, and their parents laughed. One mom said, “Jordan, you’ve met your match!”

He was breathless, chasing after me, as he said in reply, “Oh, this one has always kept me on my toes—sometimes, literally !”

I was kicking the ball as he chased me down the field, heart racing from the run, racing from his throaty laughter. He caught the ball from me and started down the field. I decided I didn’t want to play fair and leaped on his back.

Our audience was laughing, as he yelled, “Rule violation!”

But he had his hands gripped around the backs of my thighs, my skin warm where we touched, my arms laced around his neck. The two of us laughed ourselves breathless.

“What are you teaching the kids, Miss Sophia?” he asked gravelly.

“Distraction,” I whispered as I swung my body around his landing between him and the ball. I kicked it across the field. The kids cheered while I lifted my arms in victory. Jordan lifted me up and threw me over his shoulder so easily like he was tossing on a scarf as he ran after the ball, catching it as it rolled across the field. His shoulder muscles moved underneath me. He dribbled the ball, then hopped it between both feet before giving it a big kick in the other direction—all with me over his shoulder. He slid me down his body. We were both sweaty and panting, chest to chest.

The few remaining from the team clapped, and parents bid their goodbyes to us and each other while we were still catching our breaths. And I was trying to stuff down the desire to climb back on him.

“You’re still a showoff,” I said.

“You said the deal was to show off my moves,” he said, spreading his arms out. “Did I earn my coffee date?”

Date. My heart caught. “You put in the effort.”

I helped him clean while he told me about his first practice. He was bright and excited with a smile on his face that he couldn’t contain—a smile I’d missed desperately. I loved the way he loved coaching these kids.

Finally, as he slammed his truck door after the final load, he looked at me and said, “Where to for that cup of coffee?”

“I know a spot,” I said, grabbing his hand and leading him across the street to my house.

M y kitchen suddenly felt tiny once Jordan with his miles of broad shoulders and long legs was standing inside it. I tried to calm my excited little heart bouncing around and busy myself with making coffee.

I could feel his warmth when he walked up behind me, his breath inches away from my neck. I lost count as I spooned ground coffee into the filter.

“What kind of coffee you got there?” he asked.

My hands were so jittery coffee spilled from the spoon. We both ignored it.

“What are you a fancy coffee snob now?” I scooted to the side so he could see for himself. “Is that good enough for you?”

“I’ve used an espresso machine for the last couple years.”

“No.” I gasped, returning to the coffee machine. “Do you use the tiny cups, too?” I snorted at the picture of a tiny espresso cup in Jordan’s big hands. I poured water into the dispenser.

“Sometimes,” he said, taking a step closer to me. “And it’s good, Sophie.”

“Mhmm,” I hummed. Click . I turned on the coffee machine.

“Maybe I should make you a cup some morning?” he said. A bright idea. I was pretty sure if Jordan was making it, I would like it. “I can still add cinnamon.”

I twirled around. My back was against the kitchen counter. Jordan put an arm around each side of me and hunched his shoulders so we were face to face.

“Now you’re a fancy espresso drinker.” I raised my chin. “What else is new?”

He took a step back, crossing his arms. “Well, I like plants.” I felt cold in his body’s absence.

“You like plants now? You’re a plant daddy?”

He grabbed my hands as if pleading with me. “I don’t know what that is, but please don’t call me that ever again.”

“Okay, so what do you mean you like plants ?” I cocked my head, my ponytail falling across my shoulder.

“I have maybe ten different potted plants around my place. They each have their own schedule with the sun and water. I’ve done this for years now. I like the routine of it.”

“Did you name them?” I felt a pang in my chest, dying to know the plant routine.

He just grinned. I knew Jordan. He’d definitely named them. “Now, you. Tell me something new.”

“Something new.” I tapped my chin thoughtfully. He felt like something new and something familiar all at once. “I’ve gotten super into reading mysteries and thrillers. I can’t get enough. I’ll read one a night sometimes.”

Jordan laughed. “You say this like you’re admitting an addiction?—”

I grabbed his hand and led him back through the living room, then turned into my bedroom. I pointed at the bookshelves lining the wall stuffed with books. His eyes went wide at the sheer volume.

“I never knew you were this into mysteries.” He walked in and perused the spines. “What a collection.”

“I never knew I was into them either. But my first year of teaching felt so stressful and exhausting, I needed an outlet. An escape. Another teacher raved about this Gillian Flynn book and lent it to me… I haven’t stopped since. They’re my treat.”

Jordan was beaming down at me as if every word I said was sunshine he wanted to soak in. “Tell me what else is new with you.”

“Um,” I hummed. “Well, I changed running shoe brands. I’m officially a Brooks girl.” I shrugged.

“You’re copying me now?” he said. We used to argue over which running shoe was superior. After I moved, when it came time to buy a new pair, I found myself buying his brand. A silly way to stay closer to him. Every morning when I went for a run, I’d see my sneakers, and it was like he was still joining me in some tiny way.

“You were right about ‘em. I can’t go back.”

He bit his lip. “I’ve got one for you, Sophie.” His eyes twinkled with mischief. “I’m a Swiftie.”

I peered at him critically. I adored Taylor Swift—always had. He used to tease me and turn down the volume when I played her. It was a point of playful contention during our entire relationship.

“I don’t believe you. You’re kidding.”

“‘Speak Now’ is probably my favorite. I mean, ‘Folklore’ is amazing, but ‘Speak Now,’ just hits here,” he patted his chest earnestly. “‘Mine?’ ‘Last Kiss?’ ‘Long Live?’”

“Since when?” I gasped.

He shrugged in reply, the corners of his mouth tugging into a grin. His eyes tripped down my outfit. “You’re in your Brooks now.”

“Well, I was going to go for a run, then this whole team of little soccer players started shouting my name.” I leaned against my doorway.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your run,” Jordan said.

“It’s no problem.” The nutty smell of coffee crept into the room. “I think our coffee is ready, anyway.”

He followed me back to the kitchen.

“You still take two spoons of sugar, no milk?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Some things never change.” And this, for whatever reason, tugged on my heart so strong tears pricked my eyes.

So much time had passed since we’d been in each other’s lives. We’d forged new lives with new habits and new memories. Other relationships had been built and broken since us. Yet, some things hadn’t changed—like his inky, sweet coffee. Or how his smile broke out over his face as if he never could contain it. Whatever string had tied me to him still hung between us. It tugged me to him, hung me on his every word, this string unbroken, after all this time.

He reached over me toward the cupboards and pulled down two mugs with my back against his chest for a moment. I poured his mug full and dropped two sugars in. Jordan’s scent still lingered near me even though he’d walked across the kitchen by now.

I turned to find him in my fridge with my carton of half and half. He raised a brow in question.

I nodded. “Like you said, some things never change.”

By the time our mugs were empty, Jordan and I were sitting on my front porch, the two of us side by side on the front steps. He kicked my Brooks with his own pair. “I have to admit I’m dying to see you put these bad boys to use.”

“You sure?” I had my arms around my knees, peeking a glance up at him. “You can’t cheat in a race. Can’t throw me over your shoulder to win.”

Jordan chuckled. “Sure, Sophie, that’s why I picked you up earlier. To win.”

My cheeks flushed.

“You want to meet up next Saturday after practice and go for a run? I’ll bring my running shoes.” A twinkle in his eye.

“Sure, we’ll see who’s faster now.” I bumped my shoulder against his.

He bumped me right back. And everything in me felt warm and right, even if just for a moment.