Chapter 14
Fourteen
Sitting on the bench across from Zev, I pull on my socks, ready for our second night game of the season. There’s a reason we don’t do many night games in March; it’s going to be a chilly one—at least for the fans. I’ll be running miles, so cool weather isn’t going to bother me.
I peer at my friend, discussing our weekend plans. “I thought you already went to Noreen’s this week,” I say, referring to Rosalie’s grandmother.
Zev is so whipped. The man is head over heels for Rosalie.
“Well, yeah. She doesn’t like eating alone since Kermit passed away.” His brows lift. “You get it.”
And I do. While Rosalie’s grandmother may not have raised her, I understand wanting to be there for her.
But does Zev have to go? I mean, every time?
Especially when his boy Lucca needs some company.
“Zev, sometimes you act like you’re married to that girl.”
“Yeah?” he says, completely unbothered by the comment. He leans down, tying the laces of his shoes, a whipped grin on his face. Hmm—well, that didn’t have the effect I hoped for.
“Yeah.” I groan. “Callum and Fran have plans. Roman is crazy hooked on Stella. He can’t go one night—”
“So?”
“So, those boys are married. Ball and chain. We’re supposed to be the single guys. You’re supposed to be the guy who’s able to go out with Lucca on the weekend.”
“I bet Wade’s free.” Zev laughs, like I haven’t heard this joke before. I like Wade, and maybe if he were five or six years older, I’d think about it.
“Guess I’ll go home—again,” I say, though my guilt trip isn’t going to work on him.
“You know what you need?” Zev says.
“I’ve got plenty of date options.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Zev says. “I was going to say, you need a cat.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Excuse me?”
“You need someone to come home to at night.”
I stand, turn my back on Zev, and throw on my warmup kit. A cat? He’s lost it. “So, how is Noreen? Any better?” I say. I can’t help it; it’s a soft spot.
“She’s okay. She’s taking it one day at a time. What about you? McCrae’s out there tonight. Did you guys clear the air?”
I bob my head side to side. “Not exactly.”
“You gonna keep it together?”
Maybe it’s wrong—but seeing Maggie’s rainbow flick, feeling her energy as she beat me out for the ball, listening to the little she said about her nephew, it’s changed how I think of her.
I’m not saying I like the woman. I still think her calls are premature and at times out of line, but my level of respect has changed.
It’s transformed with this new information.
And her cryptic answers only made me more curious about her situation.
She quit for her nephew. But it sounds like the boy has a mother to care for him.
Something I didn’t have.
“Lucca?” Zev says. I’m unsure how long I’ve been thinking and quiet.
“Don’t worry about McCrae,” I say. I have no plans to bother her.
“I’m not worried about her. I’m worried about you,” he says.
I force out a laugh and blink out of my trance. “Not necessary.”
I run through our warmup, like every other Red Tail, but I’m blaming Zev for getting into my head.
Like a magnetic pull, my eyes keep ending up on the sidelines, where four refs huddle together.
Maggie, the only female of the four, stands out.
Her legs are long, lean, and muscular. Her ash brown hair is tied up in a ponytail, and I swear she glanced my way once or twice.
Music blares from the stadium speakers as I pass a ball between Tru and Wade.
“Lucca!” I hear my name, and as this warmup is winding down, I search the crowd. Fran waves from her usual spot, Rosalie and Stella next to her.
Tapping the ball back to Tru, I jog a few feet over to the front row seats Callum keeps for his family. “Hey, ladies,” I say.
“Callum said you might need some company this weekend,” Fran says.
“Are you volunteering?”
She smirks. “You’re always welcome at our place.”
Oof. As the third wheel. Sounds like fun.
Rosalie chuckles. “Zev says you need a cat.”
“We just had that conversation. How—” I shake my head. “Forget it.”
“What you need,” Fran says, “is a nice girl. You need to stop it with Candy or Mandy or—”
“Fran,” Rosalie scolds. “Judging a woman by her name? Not cool.”
“I’m not judging the women. Or their names. I’m judging Lucca for not remembering their names.”
“Oh. Fair.” Rosalie nods—apparently, she’s fine with that.
“The women I date are nice,” I say.
“I’m sure they are,” Fran says. “But never nice enough for you to remember their names or call them for a second date. You need someone you’re actually invested in. And no offense, Lucca, but the women deserve better, too. They deserve to be invested in.”
“Amen.” Rosalie lifts one hand in the air.
“This is extremely entertaining.” Stella wrinkles her nose. “I’m loving it. But I have to pee. Again.” She groans, then makes her way past Rosalie and Fran and into the aisle.
“Wait, I’m coming with,” Rosalie tells her. She and Stella make their way up the stadium stairs.
Fran leans on the half wall between us. “I’m serious, Lucca. You need to stop with all this super suave flirting business and find someone that means something to you.”
“I can’t help it if I’m suave.” I shrug and give her what is sure to be a suave smile. “Charm is like breathing for me. I can’t turn it off.”
“Please,” Fran deadpans. “What you need is something real. When was the last time you had a real relationship with a woman?”
I know it’s not what she means, but I immediately think of Vovó.
My grandmother. She loved me as I was. I never needed to be anything but myself for her.
My parents left—Dad through death, Mom because she couldn’t handle the situation.
Vovó could have left me to institutional care, but she didn’t.
She took me in, she loved me as a son, and she told me every day I was worth something. I was important, I was loved.
She changed the trajectory of my life. I don’t know where I’d be without her, but I wouldn’t be here.
I don’t say any of that. Because that’s between me, Vovó, and the heavens that separate us. “I’m not sure I’m meant for one woman. How would that be fair to the world? Shouldn’t I spread the love?”
Fran rolls her pretty brown eyes. “I’m serious, Lucca.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Maggie jogging up and then down the sideline—her own warm-up. I swallow, not recalling what it is that Fran said just seconds ago. “I have to go, Franny. You can lecture me later all you want.”
I’m very aware that McCrae chose to cross this field to jog up and down my sideline. The side where I am currently warming up. She could have stayed where she was, with the other three referees, but she’s over here. Maybe the ol’ Cruz charm is finally wearing her down.
Tru and Wade are still passing the ball back and forth, and while I can see Tru waiting for me in my periphery, I ignore the pair. I don’t have a plan, but I do have a goal.
I jog up beside Maggie. “Hey,” I say with a nod.
Her body jerks, and she glances over at me. “Oh.” She peers forward again, pumping her arms as she jogs. “Hey.”
“You wanted to talk to me?” I can’t help but grin over at her.
Her brow furrows. “No,” she says with a small breathless huff.
“So, you crossed the field to jog on the side where I happen to be, when in”—I glance at the countdown clock on the scoreboard—“three minutes you’ll just have to jog back.”
“Yep.” She picks up speed just a little, trying to convince me that she didn’t come over here for me. But I refuse to be convinced.
“Okay, then. I guess I should leave you alone.” I keep pace beside her, waiting for her to give in and say whatever it is she wants to say.
But Maggie likes to win. “I guess you should,” she says, curving around and running in the opposite direction.
Okay. I can play. I’ll let her have this one. I backpedal my way to the center of the field, back toward Tru and Wade, keeping my eyes on Maggie. She doesn’t look back at me, though. She doesn’t extend any kind of peace offering.
I keep going, keep watching her, until I’ve bumped right into Tru.