Completing the Pass Page 17

  “Carri, hi.”

  Her head snapped up to see Josh’s mother standing behind the kitchen counter, watching her with a smile.

  “Uh . . . Gail. Hi.” Carri turned to face the wall and finish buttoning her shirt. Thank God she’d actually put her bra on. “What are you . . . Are you visiting? Does Josh know you’re here? Where is he?”

  “Oh, I had Josh go downstairs to bring up the casseroles I baked him. I like to bring by a few small frozen dishes at the start of each season. Moms, we just can’t quit mothering our babies.” Gail laughed lightly, seemingly unfazed by Carri’s undressed appearance in her son’s apartment. “He put up quite the fight to go out to my car, though. Now I see why.”

  Right. Well.

  “Uh, I was having a rough day,” she said over her shoulder. Work, top button, damn you, work! “He just helped me, you know, work through it.”

  “I’m sure he did.” Smiling as if there was nothing odd about talking to Carri with her back turned, Gail pulled something out of a plastic sack and put it in an open cabinet. “Will you be staying with Josh for dinner? If so, I could make you kids something to eat before I leave. I brought him some noodles, I could do homemade mac and cheese. I seem to remember you enjoying that as a kid.”

  Carri’s neck burned with embarrassment as she turned to face her mother’s best friend. “No, I need to get . . . home. Help Mom, you know.”

  “I’ll give you a lift, then, so Josh doesn’t have to—”

  “I’ll take her, Mom.” Josh walked in through the ajar door and set five loaf-sized aluminum pans on the counter. “Thanks for the offer.” He kissed her cheek and took the plastic sack from her. “I can take it from here.”

  Gail gave them both a sunny grin. “I’m sure you can.” With a pat on his cheek, she said, “I’ll see myself out. You two kids have fun! And be safe!”

  “I’ll walk you down,” Josh added quickly. He followed his mother to the door, then turned around and gave Carri an apologetic look.

  What the hell just happened? she mouthed at him, still feeling shell shocked from the experience.

  Hell if I know, was his reply, then he followed his mother out the door.

  ***

  Josh wondered if Carri was actually spooked by his mother’s appearance in his apartment, or if her silence was an indication of something more serious. “I’m sorry again about my mom. She has a key for emergencies but a lot of times she’ll just come in and stock my fridge when I’m not around, or even if I am. It’s never really been an issue before.”

  “I’m not upset. Embarrassed,” Carri admitted, hooking some hair behind her ear and staring straight out the window. “But it’s fine. Whatever. It’s just . . .”

  When she sighed heavily, Josh prodded, “Just what?”

  “It’s just the moms are so intent on us. Like, us.” She motioned between them. “Together.”

  Josh thought about that for a second. “So?”

  “So, it’s weird. It’s awkward. It’s like it was decided before we could speak for ourselves. An arranged marriage or whatever. Your mom’s not as bad about it. My mom is . . . Maeve.”

  “Maeve’s formidable,” Josh agreed. “I’ll give you that. But your mom doesn’t decide your life.”

  “Feels like it, with this whole debacle of being here while they figure out the insurance issue. I’m glad to get the time with my dad, but Jess is getting antsy holding down the fort, and I have investment property I should be looking at myself, with my own eyes . . . I’m in limbo.”

  “You’re torn. It happens.” He reached for her hand, and she easily slid hers inside his grasp without looking. As he pulled up to a red light, he glanced down at their laced fingers. Without hesitation, she’d accepted the physical support. They’d spent hours together in his bed, learning each other’s bodies in the only way they hadn’t been familiar with each other yet. They knew each other’s life stories. And there was nobody else he’d wanted to come home to after two games on the road besides her.

  From the way he saw it, they were together. He wanted to keep it that way. But all this the moms talk told him now wasn’t the time to push it.

  As Josh pulled into the driveway of Carri’s parents’ house, she gathered her sketchbook. “I’ll walk you up.”

  “No,” she started to protest, but he’d already turned off the car and gotten out of the vehicle. He heard her sigh from inside just before he closed his door. When he jogged around front and opened hers, she glared at him before stepping out. “You know my mom’s probably watching.”

  “Fine.” He started to reach for her hand, but she clutched the sketch pad harder. So instead, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed a little. “I’m walking you to the door. I’m not getting down on one knee. Or, actually . . .”

  He paused, looked at her confused face, then bent down on one knee.

  “Oh, my God,” she said on a quick intake of breath. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Her voice had risen several octaves in panic. Josh chuckled, then retied his shoe. When he popped back up, her expression still hadn’t changed. “Loose shoelace.”

  “I. Hate. You,” she said through clenched teeth. Then she knocked him on the side of the head with her sketch pad and stomped toward the front door. Laughing, he watched her fumble with her keys until she could get the door open.

  As she shut the door with a snap and without a backwards glance, his eyes caught the slight fluttering of curtains at the bay windows of her parents’ bedroom. He gave Maeve a wave, and headed back to his car, feeling pretty damn pleased with himself.

  ***

  Carri hung her purse up by the coat rack and slid her shoes off, hoping she could sneak into her room without—

  “Carrington!”

  Damn. Carri cringed, then straightened her shoulders and walked toward her parents’ bedroom. “Hey, Mom. Where’s Dad?”

  “Asleep on the sofa.” Maeve sat on the edge of her bed and patted the comforter beside her. “Sit down. Let’s do girl chat.”

  Girl chat, Carri knew, was just her mother’s not even remotely veiled attempt at ferreting out information about her daughter’s life in order to manipulate and pull the strings. “What about?” she asked cautiously, perching on the very last sliver of mattress, ready to take flight at the first sign of conflict.

  “I wanted to talk to you about the day after tomorrow. I was thinking you could take your father to this class they’re holding downtown, at the Santa Fe Ballet Academy.”

  Carri blinked. That was so not where she thought Maeve was going with this conversation. “You want me to take Dad to a ballet class?”

  “It’s a class and case study rolled into one. Gail showed me the information.” Her mother’s eyes were steely with determination. “There are studies showing the movement and coordination can slow the effects of . . . of dementia.” Maeve hesitated only long enough for Carri to notice. But her mother soldiered on. “I can’t take him, can’t work my schedule around it. But—”

  “I’ll do it,” Carri said instantly. “Yeah, of course. Does he know?”

  “He knows. Uh, I might have told him you wanted to do a father-daughter ballet class, though.” Her mother rolled her lips in and gave a shameful performance on looking guilty. “I wasn’t sure he would go otherwise.”

  Carri sighed, but nodded. “We’ll try it out.”

  “Thank you.” Her mother wrapped her arm around Carri’s back and rubbed gently. They both listened to the clock on the wall tick, and to the faint rumble of Herb’s snoring across the ranch home.

  This was nice, actually. No pushing, no guilt trips, just quiet companionship. This is how Carri envisioned most mother-daughter duos spent time as adults.

  “Sooo, how are you and Joshua getting along?”

  And just like that, the magical spell was broken.
Carri shifted a little, and her mother’s hand dropped from her back. “We’re just spending time together. Company, and all that. Please don’t make anything out of it.”

  “That’s not what Gail said,” Maeve said in a singing voice. “She said you were in Josh’s apartment, and you came out of his bedroom still—”

  “Oh, look at the time.” Carri popped up like her seat had an Eject button. “I’m going to go check on Dad. Thanks for the talk, Mom!” She scurried out of the bedroom, knowing if she could reach the family room where her father slept, her mother wouldn’t chase her in to confront her.

  Safety was in the snoring man’s den.

  She settled down on the love seat catty-corner from the sofa where her father stretched out. One leg was on the sofa, the other hung down with his foot flat on the floor. An arm was flung over his head, the other on his stomach clutching the remote to the muted TV with a death grip that wouldn’t be loosened with a power tool.

  Some things, Carri thought with a smile, didn’t change no matter what. Fuck dementia.

  As she thought it, her phone beeped with a text. It was Jess. With reluctance, Carri opened the long-winded text that had been sent in two parts.

  And as she read, she felt her heart pick up speed. She scanned, then scanned again. The gist wasn’t shocking . . . that Jess was done with her job, and was giving notice. Carri shot a quick text back asking how long she was willing to continue working. Jess replied almost instantly. She wasn’t going to up and leave, but she was going to start moving on to her own investment real estate, and it was a conflict of interest with her current job. She wrote that Carri had inspired her, and she wanted to give it a go herself.

  “Flattering,” Carri muttered, even while knowing it was unfair. She’d left Jess propping the property management company up. Nothing her employee and friend couldn’t handle, but still. They’d both assumed—wrongly, as it turned out—that Carri would be back within a week, maybe two. Instead, it had been over three months.

  Fighting back the tears at the situation, Carri forced as much cheer and goodwill into her reply text as she could.

  Why didn’t they make an emoji for This Sucks but I’m Dealing?

  In the end, she went with a generic smiley face, and told Jess she understood, thank you for being there when she couldn’t, and she’d do her best to call in the next day or so in order to put details together.

  Jess replied back instantaneously, almost as if she’d been holding her breath while waiting for Carri’s reply.

  Thank you. Seriously, thank you. I will be as helpful as I can be before I go. If you want me to start looking for new PMs, let me know.

  Carri bit back a snort. No, I’ve got it. Thanks for offering. Just keep me updated and I’ll call you tomorrow.

  She was about to silence her phone when it buzzed once more. But not from Jess.

  I miss you. When do we get to have a sleepover?

  She grinned at that. Josh, you nerd.

  Sleepovers went out of style when we left high school.

  A sleepover in high school wouldn’t have gone over too well with the moms.

  All the better.

  With that, she included the devil smile.

  You’re naughty. I love it.

  The L-word caused a quick fumble of her thumbs while typing up the next reply.

  Off you go. Be important. Throw the football. Hit your targets. Aim high. Insert other generic inspirational quote here.

  You’ve got a way with words. You should look into a career change: motivational speaker. Seriously, though. Think about the sleepover.

  She wanted to reply . . . but couldn’t.

  Coward.

  Yup.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Media training felt like failure and tasted like death.

  Josh walked out of the board room of the Bobcats home office as if he’d been run over by an eighteen-wheeler that had backed up and did it again for good measure. Physically, he was fine. It was his soul that had died a little.

  Simon Poehler, their media manager, followed him out. “You’ve improved a ton. You’re really looking good in there. I’m impressed.”

  “Yeah.” Josh rubbed at the back of his neck. It wasn’t failing the job itself that was weighing so heavily on him. It was the rush he’d felt during. That sense of accomplishment, of being noticed, of liking the attention. As if the attention was the end goal for him, and not the win on the field, the final hike of the ball.

  That wasn’t good. He knew himself, knew his own personality. Knew that attention went straight to his head. That he could very easily become a super-dick if he wasn’t careful.

  Man, this was a lot easier when nobody gave a shit what he said or how he said it.

  Coach Barnes poked his head out of his office as Josh and Simon walked by. “Leeman, need you.”

  Josh did his best to swallow a sigh, but apparently it didn’t work. Simon chuckled beside him and gave him a small push on the back. “Better you than me, my friend. Better you than me.”

  “Hey, here’s an idea.” Josh gave him a sly grin. “Why don’t you see what it’s like from our side of the table? Come on in. I’m sure Coach Barnes wouldn’t mind.”

  “Yes, he would,” Simon countered easily. “And so would I. Good try. Go in and get it over with. Nothing could be worse than the unknown.”

  “That’s deep,” Josh muttered as the suit walked away. He headed to the now-closed office door and gave it a few quick knuckle raps. “Coach?”

  “Yeah, come in.” When Josh pushed the door open, Coach Barnes leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “Sit.”

  “Yes, sir.” He sat, quietly considering his options. What had he done wrong this time? What play or whatever had he missed when they’d done their practice tape viewing and game play walk through?

  The options were endless.

  “I wanted to tell you you’re looking good.”

  He jerked his head up, surprised. “What?”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ve been riding you.” Barnes lifted one shoulder, as if to silently say, So what? “You’re playing football, not tap dancing. You can’t let hurt feelings get the better of you.”

  Easy for the man with his ass not on the line to say. “Yeah, well, it’s just temporary anyway.”

  “That’s exactly the problem.” Coach Barnes sat forward now, elbows propped on the desk. “I kept thinking, ‘He’s good. He’s great. Why isn’t he amazing? What’s keeping this kid from being a franchise quarterback?’ Know what I came up with?”

  I’m sure you’ll tell me. Josh shook his head.

  “You know it’s temporary. You know that eventually, Owens will swoop in and take over. Each game you play, you’re in there a fraction of the time. You’re in there as a stopgap. An emergency measure. You’re expendable.”

  Nothing he didn’t know, but hearing it out loud was sort of . . . lowering.

  “And you play like it. You play like you’re temporary. Like this isn’t your team, like you’re just babysitting. Keeping the kids alive until mom comes home to pay you your twenty bucks and send you on your way.”

  Josh wondered if that was true. Did he play differently now than when he’d been the starting QB in college? In high school?

  “Owens proves you don’t have to showboat to make it work. You don’t have to be an asshole. You don’t have to create your own god complex. But son . . .” Barnes looked disappointed for a moment. “You’ve gotta have more in the tank than what you’re working with. You’ve made it work in preseason, because, let’s face it. You’re playing against you. You’ve been up against other backups. Just like always. Now you’re starting game one. Tomorrow. Can you get your head around that shit?”

  Josh had no clue. But he knew there was only one appropriate answer. “Yes.”

 
Barnes looked unconvinced. “That was pretty pathetic. Go home, Leeman. Figure out what it is you need between now and first snap tomorrow. Whatever it is that will fire you up and keep you from losing your shit at the same time. Go get it. And come in tomorrow ready to play like this is your team. You’re not the babysitter anymore. You’re all they’ve got. You’re their everything now.”

  Josh left the office and walked toward the front of the building. As he passed by Kristen’s desk, he paused to give himself a moment to collect.

  “Hey, Josh.” Kristen smiled up at him, her fingers still typing another few seconds after she stopped watching what she’d been doing. “How were your . . . Josh?” She stood, coming over to him. “Honey, sit down. You look like you’re either going to puke or pass out.”

  “Maybe both,” he breathed, sinking into Kristen’s chair as she guided and pushed and prodded him into it. Kristen, for being barely ten years older than him, managed to play mother hen and cool aunt to most of the team. She was irreplaceable to the organization. Anyone who doubted it would be sadly mistaken.

  She squeezed his shoulder gently, then left and came back with a cup of water from the break room off the first hallway that led to the offices. “Drink. And tell me what’s going on.” Her mouth set in a grim line as he sipped from the paper cup. “Did that quarterback coach lay into you? The day before the first game? What kind of sense does that even make? Isn’t common sense something you’re required to show up with when you coach a team?”

  “It’s not his fault,” Josh interrupted. “It’s me. Apparently I thought I was ready . . . and then . . .” He held out his shaking hand as proof. “Jesus. What the hell is wrong with me?”

  “You’re human?” Kristen asked, baffled as to why that was even a question. “Go home, shut out the world, and relax.”

  Everyone had advice, Josh thought with a wry smile. “I’ll do something. I’ll be in control tomorrow. Just gotta, I don’t know, get it out of the way today.”

  “Good plan.” She smiled in a maternal sort of way when he stood and was steady on his feet. “Take care of yourself. Whatever you need to do to take care of yourself tonight, do it. You’ll be happier tomorrow. Happy athletes perform better.”