Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Olivia POV
A fter my oh-so-fun chat with Schorr and Eberhardt, where I had been grilled about my team knowledge—I'm pretty sure one of the questions went back to what Fendleman ate for breakfast in kindergarten—I decided I'd try to 'surprise' Dotty. Sneak attack, catch her off-guard and willing to be interviewed.
And of course Coop should be in his dorm resting, and definitely not . . . sitting at the front desk, looking at me with that smirky, arrogantly-handsome face and so very kissable lips.
I pulled my ID from my wallet and held it up. “I can't seem to get away from you.”
“You wouldn't if you could.”
“Maybe I would. It's not like you're nice to me.” I tucked my license back into my purse and accepted the pen. I signed my name on the page. “Why would I want to be around someone who's always so . . . grumpy?”
“Hm. Well, since you're playing the part of my girlfriend, I guess you'll have to find some reason.” He tucked his hands behind his head and leaned back in the chair. “In case someone asks.”
“Seriously?”
“Maybe I just do it for you in the sack. I can live with that.” His eyes narrowed.
“Clearly, I do it for you. In your dreams .”
“We need a story.”
“Do we? How about we got drunk at a bar and hooked up. Oh, damn, that underaged thing again.”
His lips twisted into a wry expression. “You're not the type. Try harder.”
“Why do I have to come up with all the stories?”
“Isn't that what reporters do?”
“We chase down leads and write other people's facts. Novelists are the ones who make shit up.” I huffed as I moved around the side of the desk. “You tell me how we fell in love, mister genius . . . smirky ballplayer guy.”
He sat up, staring at me as he tilted his head to one side. I felt like he was examining or studying me. Heat flashed through my body. He closed his eyes and leaned back, again. “I fell for you the moment we met.” His mouth curved on both sides. “You were the hottest girl I'd ever seen.” He opened his eyes and grinned at me. “Literally.”
“Oh ha ha ha. I was a mess, trying desperately to cool down.” And I know you're lying because a couple of hours later you were calling me a snake in the grass .
“It took us a while, but in the end I realized.” He tucked his hands behind his head, again, and spoke to the ceiling. “You believed in me. When not many people wanted to give me a chance.” His chest rose and fell. The room was quiet, still. He was just making up a story, though, right? I glanced up at the clock on the wall. Crossed my arms against the fluttery warmth in my stomach. I flit my eyes up at him. Blue irises smoldered, like the tip of a blue hot flame. His gaze dropped to a point lower than my face. “Who can resist a chick who flashes you the first time you meet?”
I groaned. Ass. “Just let me in to see Dotty. I have got to get an interview out of her or my grade is toast.” I grumbled. “She's squirrely. At least you're just like: no comment. She's all 'oh I'm not up for it, let me ask you a bunch of questions about you, instead.'“
“She doesn't get many visitors. I've seen her son sign in one time this semester. She doesn't really belong in a place like this.”
“You know, now that you mention it. A guy shouldn't deny his girlfriend an interview.” I have some questions for you, on the record.
That super-annoying smirk was back in full force. “I'll let you interview me.”
“Really?”
“As long as you're naked.”
My jaw dropped. I glared at him. He just looked . . . so fuckin’ pleased with himself.
“Maybe you should be the one to get naked for me. 'Breslin Cooper's Revealing Interview. Take a peek at the real ass inside those hot baseball pants'.” I gave him a wink, then turned, sashaying my hips as I runway model strutted to the hallway door.
I set my bag down on the floor and slid into the seat next to Dotty’s window. I crossed my fingers and said a silent prayer that this woman would be?—
“It was lovely of you to come by, dear.” Dotty smiled up at me, and patted her hand on top of the table.
I sighed inwardly. “Still not up for it, then.” I stirred the tea she'd served. A nice cinnamon chamomile blend I'd picked up at the store on my way. It smelled spicy and floral.
She shrugged. “I’m really not all that interesting. You sure you need to interview little old me?”
“She likes being difficult. And enjoys the attention,” a deep and familiar voice cut in.
Dotty straightened in her seat. She scowled. “Oh, don’t listen to that spoil sport.” She gestured like she was trying to shoo him away. “He’s a giant-sized pest. Even if he does have pretty blue eyes.”
Coop stood, filling the doorway. “Should I bring your dinner now, or are you waiting?”
“Waiting. What is it tonight anyway? Another episode of 'guess the mystery meat surprise'?” She groused as she poured more milk into her tea.
He shrugged, but instead of going away, he moved further into the room.
“She has you pegged.” I told him as I sipped my tea.
He lifted an eyebrow and turned that smug face and the aforementioned blue eyes in my direction. Ugh, ass, I hate that smirk.
“That I’m a spoil sport? Or that I have pretty blue eyes?”
“The latter. I mean former. You’re the worst spoil sport, refusing to give me an interview—week after week. The latter only applies insofar as you have blue eyes.” I huffed and looked away as I lied through my teeth. “No one thinks they’re pretty.” Mesmerizing. Smoldering. Dammit Liv.
“Oh, they’re lustrous.” Dotty's voice quavered. “If only I were fifty years younger.”
I scoffed. “He’d still be a spoil sport.”
“True. True.” She wagged a finger up at him. “She has you there, Copper.”
“Coop-er. And you know that.” He shook his head. “You like playing the tottering old lady for effect.”
“Stop giving away all my games.” She smacked her hands on top of the table. “What else does an old lady have to do in this place?”
“You don’t have to put up with this kind of treatment.” I rose and put my arm around her, feigning indignation. I need that interview! “Sounds terribly disrespectful.”
“Nah, Cooper’s a good egg. A little rough around the edges.” She cast a look over her shoulder, a fond smile perched on her lips. I slid back into my seat.
“Hm.” She shook her head and picked up her mug. “Still needs a good woman to put the work in,” she said and sipped at her tea.
Breslin rolled his eyes, sighed, and caught me looking at him. I glanced away.
“Take him in hand, and give him a solid spit and polish.”
He rubbed a hand over his mouth as he ducked his head.
I coughed. “Metaphorically speaking. I hope.”
Twinkling eyes met my gaze. He held up four fingers, then folded one away. I scowled and pretended to scratch at my temple with my middle finger. I returned my focus to my tea, but not before I got caught in Dotty's knowing stare.
Her lips curved into a small, impish grin. “I’ve changed my mind.” She clapped her hands together. “I would love for you to stay for supper. I can answer all of your questions, Olivia, dear.”
A cold, deep pit opened in my abdomen. I swallowed. “Oh, but I. I'm not?—”
“Cooper darling, please bring two of the best mystery meat dishes on the menu. And do hurry up, dear. My guest looks downright famished.”
I broke out into a cold sweat. I had no idea what had just changed in Dotty’s mind, but she had a look like a cat ready to feast on a downed canary.
I glanced at Breslin’s dark features and wondered which of us was missing feathers.
The mystery meat surprise was about as appetizing as high school cafeteria food. But didn’t seem any worse than that. After dropping off our meals, Coop went back to his front desk guard post, I assumed. I didn’t ask. I had an assignment, and I was beginning to suspect the old lady was watching me . . . for some inexplicable reason.
She answered my questions while I recorded our session. And, proving Coop’s assertions to be more truthful than she was—Dotty's stories and recollections were sharp-witted and entertaining. But it wasn’t to be kept up for an extended time. She quite obviously began to tire . . . not too long after we finished dinner and had the plates taken away.
Some other orderly stopped in about the time she expressed the desire to retire for the evening. I waved him away, following her to her bedroom. A pale blue knitted blanket with lace-like edges draped over the foot of the bed. “Did you make this?”
She shook her head. “My niece made it for me.”
“It’s very pretty. I’m always amazed by people with that sort of talent. It’s not in my genetic code.”
She chuckled. “Mine either. I’m the worst at being old. I don’t quilt or crochet. Bingo is terribly dull, and don’t get me started on daytime television.”
“Well, if you can do it, then there's hope I might be able to manage after all.”
“And what alternative is there?” She shook her head. “Checking out early doesn’t seem your style.” I wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.
“Although you do seem a bit, well . . . not quite the same as you did the other day.”
“Me? Oh.” I held my breath and offered a small smile. “Nothing to worry about. I’m . . .” Worried and anxious. “Tough. Definitely not the type to—” Admit when I’m drowning. “Stay down. Not for long, anyway.”
“I think you mentioned last time . . . you don’t have a good relationship with your mother.”
“Ah, it’s not bad. Just . . . not close.”
“Yeah, Cooper lost his mother last year.” She clucked her tongue. “Poor kid.”
Obvious much? “I’m beginning to see what he sees. You can just say it. You don’t have to play games.”
“I think you have a lot in common. And I’ll leave it there because I get the impression . . . you’re not in the right place in your life to be in a serious relationship.”
“Serious? Coop? Pbbft. Clearly I didn’t get the good tea. What’d they put in yours?”
She frowned. “You don’t know him as well as you think, then.”
“Oh, no, let’s be clear: I don’t know him at all. That’s how he wants it. And that’s how things will stay.”
“It was a lovely visit.” She patted my hand. “Perhaps you’ll come by again, even if there’s no interview next time, Olivia. You’re always welcome.”
I nodded and moved hair behind her ear. “I'll be here.” I blinked back the warmth in my eyes. “Count on it.”
Breslin POV
Before I went back to regular desk duty, I stopped a last time to check on Dotty. Call it habit. Call it two stubborn oxen who recognized a stubborn ox when they saw one. Maybe she decided to adopt me because all her other kids had grown and left her in a place like this. Maybe it just gave her something to do.
I froze in the doorway . . .
Milline covered Dotty in her niece's blanket and sat beside her bed. I couldn't hear them speaking, but she stroked the old lady's hair and held her hand. I found myself drawing closer. I'd seen Dotty's son and daughter-in-law visit just the one time. The son was stiff and stoic. The daughter-in-law at least had kinder eyes than her husband.
Neither of them held Dotty's hand and hummed a lullaby when she reached her limit . . .
Covered her in her favorite blanket. Promised to visit again, soon. Waited for her to fall asleep.
I let out a quiet breath. The story I'd told her earlier . . .
“In the end I realized.” A warm band loosened its grip on my chest. I took a deep breath as dozens of electric pulses zipped around inside my ribcage. One nudged my heart. “You believed in me. When not many people wanted to give me a chance.”
It wasn't a lie.
“I rooted for you in the finals last year. Not Meyers, you.”
“You were with me,” she said and took in a deep breath. “All night . . .”
My heart gave a heavy thump, then changed its rhythm to something lighter. Easier. Like it’d just dropped the heavy luggage it’d been carrying on its back.
Milline continued humming as she sat on the floor beside Dotty's bed. Where no one could see her. No one would know.
I'd never been in love before, nor known anyone who had. I saw it in TV episodes, and played out in the in-between spaces of my life. My dad sitting for hours by mom's bedside. The way she'd hold my hand and tell me that I was capable of doing anything I set my mind to, said with a fierceness I'd always admired.
Love was soft and sad, tough and kind. And Milline, Liv, wasn't like that. She was brash and careless, stubborn and relentless. She makes me crazy half the time I'm around her. And somehow, she's always . . . around. But there were times when her kindness and loyalty to the people she cared about, shone through. She has a fierceness, all her own.
The thought made me smile. I held my breath and closed my eyes, just listening to the wordless song of falling . . .
Love was the quiet hum of a lullaby slipping past sleeping ears on a late November evening.
I ducked my head and made my way back to the front desk.