Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
WASHINGTON, D.C.— LYLA KERRIGAN WAS NERVOUS. Her hands shook as she put on her morning cup of coffee, as she put two waffles in the toaster for Stevie, and as she prepared for whatever the day would bring on. To say she was tired was an understatement. She had spent all night tossing and turning. D.C. hadn't exactly begun to feel like home. Lyla felt like a stranger in her own home, even though, as of yesterday, all of her and Stevie's things had been unpacked and put in the proper places. Remnants of their life in Westchester lined the walls in the form of photographs. The same drawings that hung on the fridge in there were plastered on the fridge here. It looked like her and Stevie's home— it just didn't feel like it yet.
Everything had happened so fast. One moment, Lyla and Tommy were tangled up in the sheets, foreheads pressed together, talking about expanding their family and moving to the west coast. The next minute, Tommy was packing up his things to head on an impromptu tour with his band, that hadn't had a hit in the last ten years (not that Lyla judged— she used to be his biggest fan). He never came home. Instead, he wrote her a letter, saying he was sorry, and that he had met someone else on the road. It infuriated Lyla more than anything, especially when she found out that the "someone else" was the twenty something college student who designed the band's shirts. Lyla wasn't sad, though, and eventually the anger faded, leaving her feeling one thing, and one thing only— afraid.
Lyla didn't realize it, but she had been playing the part of single mom for the last seven years. While Tommy would be out for days, being "creative," or whatever the fuck he described it as, Lyla dedicated her time to making sure Stevie had it all. She worked as a teacher, meaning while Stevie was in school, so was she. She got to spend the summers off with her, taking her on all sorts of adventures. Lyla went on every class trip, she never missed a birthday, and made sure her daughter knew she loved her unconditionally.
Lyla and Stevie had been in Washington, D.C. for sixteen days. Sixteen days of unpacking and dodging the "where's dad?" questions. In all honestly, Lyla couldn't answer them. She had absolutely no idea where in the world Tommy was. And this morning, for the first time in a while, she didn't care.
Lyla had snagged a job as a substitute teacher at the local elementary school, grateful that she wouldn't be thrown into work right away and that she had some time to adjust to her new life. For the first time in ten years, she wouldn't be Mrs. Adley. She'd be Ms. Kerrigan. She was home today, however, today was Stevie's first day of second grade. She smiled to herself as she heard the sound of little footsteps trotting down the stairs. She hummed as she put Stevie's waffles on a plate, smiling as she saw the seven year old take a seat at the table, a bright grin on her face. She was dressed in the clothes Lyla had laid out for their the night before, and had attempted to put her own hair into two pigtails.
"Good morning, momma." Stevie friend at her mom with a mouthful of her breakfast.
"Good morning, kiddo." Lyla laughed as she walked over and wiped her daughter's mouth with a napkin, smiling as the girl giggled, "You ready to rock and roll?"
MEANWHILE, ACROSS TOWN, AARON HOTCHNER WAS IN A HEATED DEBATE WITH HIS SON AT THE TABLE.
"I don't get it." Jack let out a huff and squinted his eyes at his father, who sat across from him with a deadpan expression on his face, "What do you mean you can't?"
"I can't, buddy." Aaron shook his head, flashing his son an over exaggerated frown, "I'm sorry."
"But dad, whyyyyy." Jack whined, and Aaron let out a sigh as his son exaggerated the last word, "You would be like the best, soccer coach, like, ever."
"I don't know the first thing about soccer, Jack." He shook his head again, "Plus, I don't know the schedule, or the rest of the parents, or even your team—"
"Oh, come on. It's peewee soccer." Jack pouted, "How hard can peewee soccer even be? We don't even score points."
Aaron hated to admit that his son was right. There were really no rules to the game— the kids were still young enough that they would just play the game, rather than play against each other. It honestly wouldn't take up too much of his time. Aaron was trying his best to become more involved in his son's life, but dedicating his free time to coaching seemed counterproductive— he could just use that time spent strategizing and making schedules with Jack instead. With his job, he barely saw his son as is, and didn't want that to change.
"I'm sorry buddy. It's a no from me."
"Fine. I'm not eating..." Jack pushed his plate to the other side of the table and pouted at his again, "Until you say yes."
"Jack-"
"Until you say yes." Jack had crossed his arms over his chest in protest, and Aaron couldn't help the small smile on his face. Even when his son was mad, he still had the most adorable face in the world.
"Jack, you need to eat breakfast." Aaron pushed the plate back over to his side, "Please?"
"No, thank you."
Aaron snorted as his son remained polite, even in moments of protest, "Jack. Come on. You're going to be late for school."
"It doesn't matter. There's no soccer after school anyway." He huffed.
"Why doesn't Mason's dad do it?"
"Mason's dad stinks." Jack groaned loudly, "You would be so much cooler. Soccer coach is much cooler than your real job."
Aaron let out a laugh, "You really think so?"
"You're already so cool. Imagine how much cooler you would be." Jack's pout had turned into a grin, "Maybe you could even get a girlfriend."
"What?"
"Or not." Jack shrugged, and pushed his plate away again, "I'm not hungry."
"Jack-"
"Dad."
Aaron sighed, then took a deep breath. Coaching children's soccer couldn't be that bad, right? "Okay."
"Okay?" Jack's eyes lit up, "Okay?!"
"Okay." Aaron nodded slowly, a small smile on his face, "I'll do it."
