I grinned. “Does that bother you?”

He made a noise, something between a moan and a growl. “No. No, it doesn’t.”

* * *

After two hours on the soccer field with four Hamiltons and twenty-five eight-year-olds, I was maybe in love with all the brothers. The charm. The jokes. The pretending to miss goals so the kids had an excuse to dog pile them all.

It was interesting observing the personalities of each of the brothers—the similarities and differences among them. Jamie and Cooper were a lot alike. They were all about showing off their fancy footwork, which of course the kids loved. It made them fan favorites by a large margin. Dave was the technical one, creating the drills, orchestrating, instructing, keeping everyone on task and on schedule.

But it was Simon I watched the most. He spent a lot of time standing in the background with his arms folded across his chest. But then he’d cross the field and get down on eye level with one kid or another, and talk to them. Really talk to them. I was never close enough to hear what he said, but I saw the change in the kids after he’d finished. Chins higher, shoulders back, smiles on their faces.

I didn’t have an official role, so I floated, helping wherever help was needed. But my eyes were always drawn back to Simon and his mini pep talks bestowed like happy magic all over the field.

“Hey, you’re really good at this,” I told him after the kids had all gone home.

He stopped in his tracks, dropping three of the four soccer balls he’d been carrying. He scrambled to gather them back up. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Sorry. I just said you’re really good with the kids. I like the way you sought them out individually. I think it’s good for them to be seen like that.”

“Oh. Thanks,” he said.

“What do you tell them?”

“Who, the kids?”

“Yeah. They’re always listening so intently.” I picked up the bag for the soccer balls and held it open, letting Simon drop them in before cinching it up tight.

“Thanks,” Simon said, taking the bag. “It’s different for each kid, really. I try and tell them something they’re doing right and compliment them on that, then think of something simple they can work on that won’t overwhelm them.”

“I love that,” I said.

“I don’t know.” He scratched his chin. “The last kid I talked to spit on my shoe and told me I looked like a giant booger, so I’m beginning to question my methods.”

I laughed. “I guess you can’t win them all?”

“Hey, Jamie!” Simon called across the field. “Can you and Coop get those cones?”

Jamie waved a hand of acknowledgment and started gathering them up.

“You were pretty great out there too,” Simon said.