Back to Me (Carolina Rebels 1)

“Fine,” I mumble.

Noah smiles. “Thank you.” He leans over to kiss me. At least that hasn’t changed. He would always give me the most gentle, tender, loving kiss after an argument. I knew things would be okay with that kiss. “I love you.”

My eyes widen. That’s the first time he’s said it since I’ve been here. He’s said how much he’s missed me, but not that he loves me. It’s such a relief to hear him say it. I didn’t know if I’d ever hear those three little words from him again. “I love you too.”

He grins, kisses me quickly, and then gets out of bed. I wonder if I should go back to sleep for a while. When I glance at his clock, I see it’s 5:45 in the morning. Why the hell am I up this early?

“What time do you have to be there?” I ask as he grabs his clothes.

“Have to report in by seven. Go back to sleep for a while.”

Now that is an order I can follow.

None of the majors sound particularly interesting when I look up programs. Now what am I supposed to do? Be careful about spending my money, so I can try to live off of it for the rest of my life? I need to do something other than go to my PT appointments. Everyone should be proud of me because I’m all set for my first appointment tomorrow. Whoopty freaking doo.

With a sigh, I pull up my browser once more and truly think about the programs. I could get a business degree. It’s broad enough that I could be flexible with whatever I end up doing from this point on. I could do a concentration in marketing or something. Although, the thought of attending college makes me a little queasy. I’ve never actually been on a campus as a student before. I went from high school to playing pro and taking online classes.

I continue scrolling. My heart aches a little as I see what used to be my major. I was going to get a degree so I could coach once I retired. But now, with my shoulder, I might not be able to rally or demonstrate without agitating it. Who would hire a coach who couldn’t play?

Do I want to be involved in tennis somehow? I’ve been thinking about it on the professional level, and that’s what’s made me hesitant. If I can play, that’s absolutely where I want to be, but if I can’t, I could do something on a lower level. There wouldn’t be the possibility of running into old friends or Vance that way.

My love for the game and how much I miss it cause me to do a quick search for job openings in the a

rea. My heart skips a beat when I see that a local high school is in need of an assistant coach for their year-round team. I may not have the educational background, but I definitely have the tennis experience. If they’re desperate enough, they could hire me. Should I apply even though I may quit the second I’m given the all-clear to train like usual, so I can return to the pro circuit? If that doesn’t happen, though, then my backup plan will already be in place.

On impulse, I fill out the application online. What can it hurt?

Two hours later, I’m getting ready to leave the apartment to explore like I promised when my phone rings. It’s a local number based on the area code. Hesitantly, I answer.

“Hello?”

“Meredith Quick?”

“This is she,” I confirm.

“Hi. My name is Gail Nicholson with Brady High School. I saw your application and I would like to schedule an interview with you. When’s the soonest you’re available?”

Oh. Wow. Okay. Gathering my wits, I say, “When would you like me to come in?”

“Could you be here in an hour and a half?”

“Absolutely.”

“Great! Just stop by the school and ask for me in the front office.”

“Okay, thank you.”

I hang up in disbelief. It can’t be that easy, can it? Shit. What am I supposed to wear to a job interview? How can I be twenty-six and feel so clueless? I grab my things and hurry down to the parking garage. I definitely don’t have anything worthy, and I’ll have just enough time to make a quick shopping trip.

By the time I make it to the school, my hands are trembling with nerves. I’m not going to get this job. I don’t even know if I want it! Before my injury, I would’ve been confident that I would be hired. I’d have the skills and no one could deny my ability. But being unable to play has shaken my confidence.

Worthless.

Pathetic.

Useless.

I cringe at remembering a few choice words from Vance. Now isn’t the best time to have that running through my head. Nonetheless, I force myself to walk in to the school and ask for Gail, adding that I’m here for an interview. The receptionist asks me to take a seat. I run my fingers through my long brown hair, hoping I didn’t frizz it up too much when I changed.