Maybe This Time

by Jennifer Snow

  Probably because Dean had been saving the good techniques for other women.

  Pushing all thoughts of her ex away, she reached for her diet soda and extended the glass toward her daughter. “To starting over.”

  The little girl just shrugged, reaching for another French fry. “Sure.”

  Guess that was about as much excitement as she was going to get from the kid. “So, tell me about your first week at school. How was it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, do you like your new teacher?” Kelli Fitzgerald was Dani’s teacher until her maternity leave started, and then Abigail could potentially be in that position. She wondered how Dani would feel about that.

  “She’s okay.”

  Wow, had she been this vague as a child? Well, if Dani still didn’t feel like talking, she would. “I’m excited about the new position and if things go well…”

  But Dani wasn’t listening as her gaze drifted past her. “Oh my God, there’s my new friend!”

  Okay then.

  Abigail turned in the seat to look where her daughter was pointing, but she didn’t see anyone Dani’s age—just Jackson Westmore. Again. She knew this was bound to keep happening, but it still irritated her. The sight of him reminded her of all the times he’d tried to get between her and Dean. He’d always tried to exclude her, claiming their annual Super Bowl party was “guys only” and their weekend camping trips in the summer were women-free. She often wondered if maybe Jackson Westmore might be hiding a secret about his sexuality. He was just a little too attached to his best friend.

  Well, he could have Dean now.

  He glanced their way and she turned quickly, hoping he hadn’t seen them. She just wanted to enjoy a nice dinner with her daughter. “Where’s your friend, honey? I don’t see anyone,” she said quietly.

  “Right there. Taylor!” she called, waving her arms to get her friend’s attention.

  Abigail turned again to see a little girl a few inches taller and maybe a year older coming toward them. She wore a hockey jersey, and her short dark hair was tied back in a messy ponytail.

  “Hi, Dani, Dani’s mom,” the young girl said.

  “Hi, I’m Abi—Ms. Jansen,” she said, realizing she could have this girl in class someday. “You and Dani are friends?” The girl was definitely too old to be in the fourth grade.

  “Yes. I’m a new student helper at school.”

  “Oh.” She remembered being one of those at that age. Students were assigned to new classmates to help them adjust to the new school, help them make friends. She was glad they still had the mentorship program. This might be her hometown, but Dani had grown up in L.A. Transitioning to a new school was tough. It was great that her daughter had a friend already in the older girl.

  “Do you want to sit with us?” Dani asked. “Is that okay, Mom?”

  How could she possibly say no when her daughter looked happier now than she had in a week. “Of course. Are you here with your parents?” She glanced around, wondering if the girl’s family was anyone she knew and instead caught sight of Jackson coming toward their table.

  Oh not now.

  She shot him her best “fuck off” look, but he still continued toward them.

  What the hell did he think he was doing? She refused to get into it with him again in front of her daughter and her friend. The few times Jackson had visited Dean in L.A. during the off-season, he’d insisted on staying at a hotel and only spent time with Dean. Now wasn’t exactly ideal timing for Dani to meet her father’s best friend. Their earlier conversation didn’t inspire confidence that any interaction between them would be easy, and she didn’t want Dani feeling the awkward tension.

  “Actually I’m here with my hockey coach…and uncle,” Taylor said with a giggle.

  Abigail’s eyes widened as she swung her attention back to the girl. “Your hockey coach uncle?” Seriously?

  Jackson stopped at the table and draped an arm around the little girl. “Hello again.”

  Or for the first time. She couldn’t remember actually exchanging pleasantries earlier that day. Nope. She was pretty sure he’d gone straight for the jugular.

  “Can we eat with them, Uncle Jackson?” Taylor asked, looking hopeful.

  He shook his head. “Oh, I don’t think…”

  “My mom said it was okay,” Dani said quickly, moving in a seat to make room for Taylor on her side of the table.

  Which meant Jackson—the world’s biggest a-hole—would be sitting on her side. Wonderful.

  Abigail wanted to say no, but Dani was already chatting happily to her friend. “It’s fine. Please, have a seat.” Her teeth were clenched so hard she’d need to start wearing her night mouthguard again.

  Jackson looked just as happy about it as he sat in the empty chair beside her, moving it as far away as possible.

  Ha! As if she was the one who smelled. It was he who’d obviously just come from the arena—the faint smell of sweat mixed with his soft aftershave…an all too familiar one, making her stomach tighten. She’d always loved Dean’s fresh-from-practice smell, but she hadn’t expected it to cause her pulse to race now on account of Jackson.

  Damn.

  Reaching for her glass, she took a sip of her drink, appetite gone. She looked longingly at the nachos, but there was no way she could polish them off now.

  To starting over, she thought wryly. Yeah right. More like—To picking up right where she’d left off.

  * * *

  With his niece ignoring him across the table, Jackson took out his cell phone and opened a game of Candy Crush, while they waited for the food he’d ordered at the counter. He had no desire to make small talk with Abby, and he suspected she’d prefer the awkward silence as well.

  Damn, why had she come back here? With a nice divorce settlement—which she would no doubt get from his friend—she could have moved anywhere…or stayed in L.A. But no, she’d moved back to Glenwood Falls to make his life miserable. Being around her before had been tough enough; now it would be torture. The only thing more off-limits than your best friend’s girl was your best friend’s ex-girl. And besides, the shit she was putting Dean through wasn’t easy for him, a loyal lifelong friend, to swallow.

  But damn, she looked good…And smelled better than the scent of apple pie baking in the restaurant’s kitchen. Her soft, delicate perfume tickled his nose, and he hoped it helped to mask his sweaty self. He should have showered, but he hadn’t expected to be sharing close quarters with the woman he’d never been able to get over.

  “Mom says we’re not allowed to use phones at the table,” her little girl said, glancing at him.

  His first instinct was to respond, Your mom’s not the boss of me, but before he could say anything, Taylor spoke up. “Yeah, Uncle Jackson. You know the rules.”

  He was getting schooled by preteens. He sighed and tucked the phone away. He glanced around the nearly empty restaurant. Nearly empty. They could have had any table in the place.

  Beside him, Abby cleared her throat. At least he thought that’s what she was doing. She might have been choking on pride. It was hard to say.

  She did it again and he turned to face her. “Need a drink?” Man, that sound must have driven Dean nuts.

  That’s it—focus on the one flaw you can find in her.

  She glared at him briefly, then after a deep breath, said, “So, you’re still coaching the Junior team.”

  His jaw clenched. She could make that statement sound casual, but he heard the meaning behind it. What she was really saying was So, you still haven’t made it as a professional hockey player like your brothers and best friend. “Yes I am. And you’re back living with your parents.” He couldn’t help it. She’d touched a nerve. Correction: she had nerve.

  “Only temporarily. Once the di…” She stopped. “It’s a temporary thing.”

  “Until you can find another ticket out of here?”

  When her expression changed to one of raw hurt, he immediately wished
he could suck the words back in. That was too far. Damn it. They should have just let him play Candy Crush.

  Recovering quickly, but not fast enough, she turned in her seat ready to argue. “Are we really going to do this?” she asked, her eyes the color of the blue circle at center ice and just as cold.

  He sighed. “No. Let’s not.” Best to leave things unsaid.

  As usual.

  * * *

  “How was school?” Becky Westmore asked her daughter as they entered her home an hour later.

  “Fantastic. I scored twice on Uncle Jackson, and he says my drills are faster than any of the boys on the team last year,” his niece said, tossing her backpack into the hall closet.

  His sister rolled her eyes at him. “I asked about school, not hockey. Man, can we talk about anything else in this family, just once?”

  He kissed her cheek. “Sorry, sis. The curse of having all brothers, I guess.”

  “Yes, I know. I just thought I was getting a break from all of it when the ultrasound revealed I was having a girl,” she said.

  “Well, maybe this time you’ll actually get a real girl,” Taylor said, hugging her mother’s pregnant belly. “Hello, in there,” she said to the stomach.

  Becky laughed and kissed her daughter’s head. “Start your homework.”

  “Don’t have any,” she said, opening the fridge and grabbing a soda.

  Jackson opened the closet door and retrieved the backpack. Tossing it at his niece, he said, “If your grades drop, I can’t let you be on the team, so start studying. I plan on keeping the championship trophy in the school’s display case.” Three years in a row, he’d coached the Junior league team to a win and with his niece on the team this year, he expected an easy fourth victory.

  “Fine,” Taylor grumbled, grabbing an oatmeal chocolate chip cookie from the counter and heading upstairs before her mother could stop her.

  When she was out of earshot, he said, “She really is doing great, though. Even better than last year.” He, too, reached for a homemade cookie cooling on the rack, and his sister slapped his hand, forcing him to drop it. “Hey!”

  “Those are for the school bake sale on Sunday.” She collapsed into a chair, looking exhausted. “They’re back to school two weeks and already they have a fundraising event.” She shook her head. “Don’t they know some of us are pregnant and exhausted?”

  He sat across from her and grinned. “Mom of the year, as usual,” he said, his thoughts immediately turning to Abby and the odd, somewhat strained relationship he’d seen between her and her daughter in the school hallway and again at dinner.

  It was the first time he’d even met Dean’s little girl, and he felt guilty that over the years he’d basically gone out of his way to avoid Abby and Dani. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to get to know the child; he just wasn’t sure he could handle seeing the family together. Up until nine months ago, when news of a suspected divorce hit newsstands, his buddy had had it all: the successful NHL career, the beautiful wife and family…everything Jackson had wanted for himself. Exactly everything.

  The little girl looked just like Dean. It was hard to find traces of her mother in her at all, and according to Taylor on the way home, Dani’s personality matched her father’s as well. Taylor had gushed about how great it was to finally have another girl friend who loved hockey and knew as much about the game as she did.

  He was happy his niece had a cool new friend; he just wished it wasn’t Abby’s daughter. Coaching next door to the school meant he would see her far too often already.

  “Are you even listening to me?” his sister said across the table.

  “Yeah, of course. You were saying you were exhausted…” And that was the last thing he’d heard.

  “Yeah, about three minutes ago. I just gave you a complete rundown of the Desperate Hearts episode today, complete with plot insights from yours truly, and you missed it all.” She stood and grabbed a cookie and took a bite.

  He laughed as he stood and took the rest of her cookie. “As much as I love hearing about your daytime soap opera addiction, I do have a lot on my mind, you know.”

  “Like Abby Jansen?”

  He coughed as he choked on the bite he’d just taken.

  Becky reached into the fridge and grabbed a soda. Opening it, she handed it to him.

  He took a gulp to wash down the piece of cookie stuck in his throat.

  “I take that as a yes,” his sister said with a smirk.

  “You’re wrong. I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Abby’s back in town?” He tried to sound nonchalant, but he suspected his sister wasn’t buying the act.

  “Okay, I’ll play along. Yes she’s back in town. Taylor is her daughter’s student mentor and hasn’t stopped talking about how awesome she is all week.”

  He nodded, giving up the act. “She may have mentioned that…and we may have run into them at the Slope and Hatch.”

  “Aha! I knew I’d seen that look on your face before.” Taking an oven mitt from the counter, she opened the door and retrieved a chicken and veggie casserole.

  Despite having already eaten, or at least having tried to eat in the awkward company of Abby, his stomach growled as the smell of her homemade garlicky white wine sauce reached his nose. Annoying as she was, his sister was still the best cook he knew. “What look?”

  “That pathetic, lovesick look you used to get over…”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said quickly. His sister was the only one who knew about his feelings for Abby, but certainly not because he’d admitted to them. Ever.

  “Fine,” she said with a sigh. “Keep on denying it.”

  He would. Till his dying day. He watched as she cut the casserole, his mouth watering.

  “I suppose you want a piece to go?” she asked, pointing the knife at him.

  “Yes. Why else do you think I came in here? Because I like your abuse?”

  She popped a serving into a plastic container and handed it to him, adding a cookie on top of the lid. “Bring my containers back. I’m running out.”

  “You keep filling ’em, I’ll keep bringing ’em back.”

  Chapter 4

  When her cell phone rang Tuesday morning at six thirty, Abigail lifted her head and fumbled around the bedside table for it, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. Seeing the Glenwood Falls Elementary number lighting up the display, she quickly sat up and forced her voice to sound as though she’d been awake for hours. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Abigail, this is Liz calling from Glenwood Falls Elementary,” the receptionist said.

  “Yes, hi, Liz.”

  “I apologize for the short notice, but one of our second grade teachers called in sick this morning, so can you make it in?”

  She was nodding. Second grade. She could do second grade.

  “Abigail?”

  “Oh, yes. Definitely. Not a problem. I love second grade.” Shut up, Abigail.

  “Okay, well, just stop by the office and we will give you today’s lesson plan and everything you need.”

  “Great. Yes. Will do.” She disconnected the call and jumped out of bed. Her first day teaching! This was…She paused. Absolutely terrifying. Her excitement faded to anxiousness as she grabbed a towel and headed for the bathroom down the hall.

  In the shower a minute later, she tried desperately to remember back two years to Dani’s second grade experience. Double addition…the introduction to chapter books…She could add. She could read.

  She had this.

  Three hours later she stood staring at twenty blank expressions staring right back at her.

  She so did not have this.

  She cleared her throat and forced a deep breath. “Hello, everyone. I am Ms. Jansen, your substitute teacher for today…” In movies, they always wrote their name on the board. Seemed like as good as any place to start, so she did.

  And underlined it. Twice.

  Good, she thought nodding her approval at her o
wn name in white chalk across the black board.

  Now what?

  She opened the file from the office and saw the math tests on top. “Well, it looks like we have a math test today,” she said.

  A collective groan went through the classroom. A hand in the back shot up.

  “Yes…” She glanced down at the seating chart with all the students’ names on it taped to the corner of the desk. “Matthew,” she said, glancing back up at the boy.

  “I’ve seen you on TV.”

  Okay. “That’s possible. I assume it was a commercial for Dreams for Life?” She’d been the spokesperson for the charity for two years, and the television commercials were the things she’d enjoyed least. She preferred getting her hands dirty behind the scenes, raising money and organizing events.

  “Yeah. My mom said you are married to Dean Underwood, the right wing for the L.A. Kings,” the boy said.

  A murmur went through the rows.

  Technically that was still true until the papers were signed. “Um…yes. Anyway, back to this math test. Who will volunteer to hand them out?” She scanned the classroom.

  A little girl—Ashley—in the front row raised her hand. “I will.”

  “Great, thank you.” She handed them to her.

  Matthew raised his hand again.

  “Yes, Matthew?”

  “Are you getting a divorce?”

  Man, what was with this kid? “Do you have any other questions? About the math test maybe?”

  He shook his head no.

  “Okay then. Once you all have your tests in front of you, you may begin.” A minute later, all heads were bent over their papers and Abigail sat in the chair.

  Immediately, her skirt felt wet.

  Her eyes widened as she quickly stood back up and glanced toward the seat. Red Jell-O was spread all over it and now covered the back of her three-hundred-dollar pencil skirt. She clenched her teeth as she reached for a tissue to wipe the globs of red goo from her butt.

  Giggles could be heard in the room, but she silenced them all with one stern look.

  Welcome to the world of substitute teaching, she thought. Though admittedly she’d take pranks over personal questions any time.