Chapter 19
Connor
Duffy: Thank you again for what you did for my dad tonight.
I sat on the couch, mindlessly staring at the TV while trying to figure out what in the hell had happened earlier.
For the first time since…well, ever, I’d actually had a conversation with someone who seemed to understand the overwhelming…overwhelmingness of my fucking life. Because on a daily basis, I felt far too inexperienced for the life I was trying to uphold.
The older guys on the team who’d played together forever, the fans, the money, the endorsements; those were all things I had zero experience dealing with. Add to that the fact that I literally didn’t know anybody in the state of Minnesota aside from my teammates, and I was pretty pathetic.
My life was basically me just trying to fake it until I made it, or whatever the hell that expression was.
But Duffy was just so fucking cool about it all that talking to her was the easiest thing in the world.
Connor: Of course. It was fun.
Duffy: Also can you please apologize to Josh and Justin for my family?
Connor: They actually loved them so forget about it.
That was a hundred percent true. Josh, Justin, and a couple of the other guys were pretty much the only people I’d ever hung out with outside of work, but even so, we weren’t close.
I could literally count on one hand the number of times we’d socialized.
But they’d had a fucking blast with Duffy’s family, and it was strange that I felt like I’d made progress because of it, like I somehow knew my teammates slightly better now that we’d all hung out with the Distefano clan.
And the beta version of COD was absolute bullshit, bullshit Tony hadn’t even questioned.
The truth was that I’d invited her dad over for one simple reason.
He reminded me of my grandpa.
So much so that it hurt a little.
Because even though I FaceTimed my grandpa every morning, every morning was the same.
The nurse at the memory care facility connected us, and even though he technically still remembered me, he was unable to successfully engage in a two-way conversation.
I usually told him about my day or what I was having for breakfast, and he usually smiled and made a trivial comment, but then he’d start talking about something random that’d happened with someone, sometime in his life.
It was obvious that he was vividly remembering a moment, but his recollections came out in choppy segments that didn’t often connect.
This morning it’d been something about the way he used to have to line up outside of the building before school, no matter how cold it was, and his mom always got mad because he lost his hat all the time.
“Couldn’t keep track of it, huh?” I teased. “Even when it was on your head?”
“I didn’t know where they parked the boat,” he said, shrugging. “I asked but he said he had no idea.”
With each passing day, it became more impossible to follow.
I’d gone from asking questions and trying to figure it out, to just smiling and nodding. Commenting for the sake of engagement, even though I had no idea what he was actually talking about.
And fuck, I hated it so much because I missed him.
Selfishly, I missed the spark in his eyes, the connection between us. I longed for a conversation where he was my grandfather and I was his favorite grandson and we were in the same moment together.
So yeah—it was safe to say that I was a sentimental fuck who probably enjoyed Duffy’s dad’s company too much, for absolutely selfish reasons.
But the last thing I’d imagined when I invited Tony over was that kiss.
Sweet Jesus.
I’d been shocked as hell when Tony told me she was on her way up, and before I even had a chance to register that fact, she was in my apartment, bossily leading me onto the balcony and kissing the bloody hell out of me.
Dear Lord, she’d damn near made me forget my fucking name with that kiss.
And I didn’t know what it meant, really. She’d laid down some bullshit about gratitude, but that kiss had nothing to do with manners. She might’ve been grateful I’d taken Tony out, but the kiss had been all chemistry, I swear to God.
Duffy: Well thank you just the same.
I knew I shouldn’t push it, but I couldn’t stop myself.
I texted: You never gave me that number, Distefano.
Duffy: Do we really want to get bogged down in data and statistics, Cunningham?
I replied: Hell fucking yes
Duffy: Okay, fine. Um…so it was 40% gratitude, 60% the other
Me: OH YOU CANNOT SAY “THE OTHER,” YOU COWARD
Duffy: All caps. Okay, I see you, Bossy.
Me: Say it
Duffy: Fine. It was 60% me wondering if you’d fumble the pass or if you could convert.
I didn’t use the word “love” lightly, but I fucking loved the way Duffy Distefano talked to me.
I texted: And…?
Duffy: And quit begging for compliments, it’s embarrassing.
I started laughing alone in the dark living room, because the girl was too fucking much. I texted: What’s embarrassing is that I can’t stop replaying it in my head. You scrambled my brain with your fucking mouth, Distefano.
Duffy: Then I can go to bed happy, knowing I messed with your mind. G’night, Connor.
I sighed and shook my head. G’night, Duff.