Chapter 18
Taysom
I scrub my face. If there’s anything I hate worse than losing a football game, it’s talking about getting traded.
“And if it happens,” I continue, “it’s going to be within the next few weeks. There’s always that fear there, but now it’s a huge deal, especially with Casey Riddock in the mix.”
Charlotte’s mouth pulls down in a frown. “I see. I bet that’s hard.” She squeezes my arm and then lets go. “I don’t want you to get traded.”
“There’s this sense of doom every day.”
Her brows knit together, and the warmth from her arm next to mine makes me feel like she cares. “Oh, that’s rough.”
“It comes with the territory. But the fact that I’ve been with the Wolves, my dream team, for six years?
That’s unheard of. I was drafted by the Tampa Bay Buccaneers but got traded that same night to the Wolves.
I couldn’t believe my luck. The fact that my friends and family are right here and can watch me play?
That I can still see my mom every week while doing what I love?
It seemed too good to be true. It still seems too good to be true. ”
“So why not date? I still don’t understand. I know it makes things harder, but not impossible.” At my glance, she scratches her ear. “I mean, I’m not wondering because…it’s just…I’m curious.”
The sigh that escapes me does nothing to ease the tightening in my sternum.
“My dad traveled about seventy percent of the time for work. It tore up my parents’ marriage.
When they divorced when I was little, I swore I wouldn’t have a job that travels, but then I discovered football.
It’s the only thing we really have that holds us together.
Go figure it’s the thing that we all love but the thing that takes me away from them the most.”
“I’m sorry. I mean, I knew your parents split up when you were young, but I didn’t know why or how hard it’s been.”
I smile faintly. “Not many families are like the Mercers.”
“Hey, we’re not perfect, not by any stretch of the imagination.”
“Yeah, but you were together.” I puff out a breath. “You’re lucky.”
She places her hand on top of mine, her big brown eyes meeting my gaze. “I know. I am.”
Her hand stays put and it anchors me enough that I keep talking. “And I am, too, in a lot of ways. That I get to do what I love? That I get paid a lot of money to do what I love? I don’t take that for granted.”
She swallows hard. “You shouldn’t. You are lucky to be able to do that.”
“What’s the word on the jobs you’ve applied for? Have you heard anything yet?”
“Not a thing.” Her gaze takes in the floor.
“Willa has had two interviews already. She hasn’t heard yet if she got them, but at least she’s interviewed.
I haven’t heard anything from anyone. Granted, she didn’t have a little baby kitten with the world’s biggest set of lungs show up, either.
I got a bit of a late start on the search. ”
As if on cue, Miley struts into the kitchen, her tail moving in cadence with her steps, her head held high as she scrunches up her face in an ear-splitting meow. “If you ever change your mind about the job at the Sports Med Institute, just say the word.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” She blows out a breath. “MJ came in today.”
“And? Is she still good for surgery?”
Charlotte shakes her head. “Yes and no. This particular surgery is risky in the sense that it might not work.” She explains the procedure in detail.
I don’t understand much of it, and though I’m used to talk of sports injuries, I still cringe at her description of the way the surgeon has to cut into the femoral head.
“I’m still so mad this wasn’t caught earlier,” she says, jamming her fists over her forehead. “It didn’t have to be this way.”
“That is really too bad. It makes total sense why you’d be doing the screening.”
“Yeah, I just want to give kids a fighting chance, you know? But I understand what MJ is going through. It’s the same procedure I had as a kid.
You know, sometimes we blame a child’s late diagnosis on unaware parents.
We think, if they’d only been paying better attention or whatever, that this could have been avoided.
But the truth is, if it’s not pronounced as an infant, it can easily go undetected.
And then you’re suddenly four years old and in traction in the hospital, screaming your head off. ”
Without thinking, I slide off the countertop and step to Charlotte.
Her legs are dangling apart just enough that I can get close enough for a hug.
I slide my arms around her waist and breathe in the scent of her.
I can’t think of what to say, so I’m quiet.
And pretty soon, she relaxes in my arms, our hug growing tighter and stronger.
For once, Miley is leaving us alone and her piercing mew is replaced by the sounds of her snuffling through her kitten meal replacement.
Our bliss is short-lived, though. As soon as Miley finishes, she’s back at it, her meows insistent.
Charlotte eases away from me so she can look at me. “Is she meowing because she’s a baby and that’s what babies do? Or will she always do this?”
“I have no idea!” I say. I rest my hands along her waist, not ready to let go of this hug quite yet. “I’m a new pet guy, remember? It is sort of cramping my style and getting on my nerves. It makes my ears ring.” I make a show of rubbing my ears.
She laughs. “Yeah, me too.”
“Should we plan our escape? I mean, she’s fed. She’s watered. She has fresh kitty litter.”
“What are you saying?”
I grin. “What do you say we go for some tacos? Our ears need a break.”