Completing the Pass Page 19

  “I already knew that.” He held up his hand. “Which is why I only have one slice.”

  Damn. “Apparently finding something you don’t know about me is going to be difficult.”

  “Don’t shove that, We’ve known each other since diapers crap at me. Think about it.”

  “I don’t know . . . Oh! Okay.” She grinned. “I used to have a crush on Derrick.”

  That stopped him short. He squirted a little mustard on the countertop as he turned to stare at her like a hooked trout. “Derrick? My Derrick?”

  “Well, I used to imagine he would be my Derrick, not yours.” Carri smirked. “I was fifteen, he was a big, tall guy already, and strong. Kicked ass at football—”

  “I kicked ass at football, too,” Josh muttered, turning around to give the sandwiches his full attention. And squeezed the mustard bottle just a little harder than necessary before setting it down forcefully on the counter.

  He was jealous. Or maybe annoyed. Probably both. The thought made Carri smile. “Yeah, but you weren’t a mystery to me. Derrick was.”

  “He’s married,” Josh snapped. He slapped the top pieces of bread on the sandwiches and cut through one with vengeance, as if the sandwich had personally wronged him.

  “He’s married now. I don’t have a crush on him now, either. He’s still a good guy though, isn’t he?”

  Josh hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. He is. His wife’s pregnant. They’re sloppy-happy about it.”

  “Aw.” Carri went a little mushy for the big guy. “He looks good with a beard, even if some of the weight has redistributed. He always reminded me of a big teddy bear. But anyway, there. You asked, I answered. Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

  He took his time loading the plates with the sandwiches, as if the placement of each half were paramount to how it tasted. Then he poked his head back inside the fridge and came out with a bag of carrots. “I had a crush on you in high school,” he said quietly, pouring baby carrots onto each plate.

  Carri snorted. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

  “Senior year, I sure did, for one very aggravating month.” He slid one plate beside her, put the other up on a ledge and leaned in for a kiss and a quick nuzzle at her temple. “But since you acted like I was one step up from dog crap—”

  “Not that bad!” she protested.

  He gave her the You sure about that? look.

  “Well,” she amended, “I was still hurting from your disinterest in me before.”

  “What?” Josh pulled back and stared at her. “You said you had a crush on Derrick.”

  “A girl can have multiple crushes in her teenage years. There was a very short time during my sophomore year—your junior—that my hormones went wonky and I wanted you.” Face hot, Carri reached around for her wineglass, only to realize it wasn’t there. So she picked up the sandwich and took a big bite. Josh gave her a speaking glare, but she shrugged and said, “Goo san-ish.”

  “Gross,” was all he said, and took a bite of his own. “So you’re saying . . .” he said, managing to chew and talk much better than her—probably thanks to his big mouth—“You’re saying that we missed simultaneously crushing on each other by one year.”

  “Probably for the best,” she said after swallowing. “We never would have worked out back then.”

  Josh nodded, his chin bumping her shoulder slightly. “What’s that saying, how sometimes ships pass in the night because they’re not ready to meet yet?”

  “But we’d met,” she reminded him.

  “Since we were in diapers,” they both added in unison, quoting the moms. Then they grinned.

  More seriously, Josh added, “So, maybe back then we weren’t ready to meet like we are now. How we are with each other now. We just weren’t prepared for it.”

  “Oh, and you’re prepared to handle me now?” she joked.

  And he rocked something inside her when he answered, “Yeah, I am.”

  ***

  Josh tore his T-shirt over his head before dumping it at the bottom of his locker. He’d done the pregame media circus with little hesitation, earning Simon Poehler’s look of gratitude—not that he wanted it—and Trey’s look of admiration. There had been questions, comments, and a few concerns from people wondering how he would fill in for Trey. But the starting quarterback had nipped those in the bud early, and Josh had done his level best to not make an ass out of himself.

  Hopefully, he’d succeeded.

  By now, he’d normally turned his phone off, but he couldn’t resist checking one more time before he slipped his uniform on. Something about putting on those Bobcat blues felt too close to suiting up for battle to him. Too final. Like he couldn’t go back.

  When he found a text from Carri, he grinned and opened it.

  Don’t fuck up, or no veggie juice and cookies for you tonight.

  He snorted and turned his phone off. She just got him in a way nobody else ever had.

  “That’s a loose smile. Glad to see it.”

  Trey sat down beside Josh on their folding chairs and stretched out his legs. For a man whose career was currently on hiatus, he looked shockingly calm.

  “Feeling okay?”

  Josh rolled his shoulders, then nodded. “Yeah, feeling fine. Good. Great. I’m doing great.”

  “You should have ended with fine.” Trey analyzed him for a second while Josh pulled on his socks. “Watch your left side. The Bills always—”

  “Come hard from the left. I’ve heard.” Josh gave him a wry smile. “From you, from Barnes, from Jordan, from the guy who stands out on Fifth and Lexington and hands out pamphlets on the next coming apocalypse. Believe me, I’ve heard.”

  “So you’re prepared. Better to be too prepared than caught with your pants around your ankles.” Trey sat up a little straighter. “You look more solid than yesterday, so that’s good. Yesterday you were a bit scary.”

  “I scared myself,” Josh admitted. “Then I found that thing I needed. So I’m more level.”

  “Hope so.” Trey lifted his right leg, indicating his ankle. “You’ve got backup for the field . . . but it’s not me. But just remember, if you need something . . .”

  “Ask. I’ve got it.” Josh started to brush that off, then thought better. “Actually, I do have a favor.”

  “Let me hear it,” Trey said without hesitation.

  After lacing his fingers together and stretching his biceps, Josh started to pick up his pads. “Grab your phone. We’re about to send Cassie on an errand.”

  ***

  “The game is still almost three hours away, and you’re already in the kitchen.” Carri watched with amusement as her mother checked a pot on the stove and simultaneously peeked in on the dough in the oven. “It’s just Gail, Mom. She wouldn’t care if you served her Lunchables.”

  “First off, that’s terrible. I raised you better. I hope you never actually serve guests Lunchables.”

  “That would mean I had houseguests, which I don’t. Because I’m a hermit,” Carri said.

  Maeve swatted at her with a dish towel. “And secondly, it’s a tradition. Gail and I have gone back and forth hosting each other for Josh’s games since he started playing.”

  “She doesn’t go to the home games?” That came as a bit of a shock, given it was her one and only son playing. “I would have thought she’d be a season-ticket holder.”

  “Oh, she was, the first couple of seasons. But eventually it got to be a bit too much. She says she can watch better from home, and more comfortably, too.” Maeve began washing vegetables that would go on the platter for the coffee table. “And since your father and I already watch the games, it was just a natural progression for her to join us.”

  “Hmm,” was all she said. “Okay, I’ll bite. Let me help.”

  Maeve shot her a look of such happiness and gratitude, Car
ri almost felt guilty for not having offered before now. But she also hadn’t known her mother was going to throw such a fuss together for a single family friend to come over. The kind of family friend they normally didn’t even straighten up for, because she’d seen the house looking at its worst and didn’t care.

  “Thank you, sweetheart. You can wash the rest of these while I start making the dip. It needs to chill for a few hours after I’ve mixed it.”

  “Sure thing.” After scrubbing her hands, Carri took over the job of peeling and washing the veggies.

  “I’m so glad you’re here for this,” Maeve continued, getting things out of the refrigerator. “With Gail coming over, and you here . . . it feels like this is where we’re all supposed to be. Together as a family, watching Josh.”

  “Mom.” With a sigh, Carri set the celery stalk aside and turned the water off. “This isn’t going to happen forever. I don’t live here anymore. Josh and I aren’t going to ride off into the sunset and get married.”

  Maeve’s lip quivered a little—a trick Carri recognized from her childhood—and Carri turned the water back on. She’d been honest, but not rude. There was nothing more her mother could ask.

  The doorbell rang, and Carri thanked the blessed Saint of Game Day that Gail’s early arrival had saved her from an uncomfortable conversation. Much as Maeve loved to harp on her daughter, she’d never do it in front of an audience.

  But a few seconds later, her mother’s confused voice pierced through the gratitude.

  “Carri, you’ve got a visitor.”

  She turned around and found herself looking straight at Cassie Owens.

  “H-hey,” she stuttered. When she stepped forward, she realized she was still holding a cucumber. “Oh, God. Here, uh . . .” She set it down and walked toward a smiling Cassie. “What . . . I mean, how did you know where I lived?”

  “A little birdie told Trey, who told me.”

  Of course. “Mom, this is Cassandra Owens. Cassie, this is my mom, Maeve Gray.”

  Cassie hooked her left arm through Carri’s and tugged gently. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Gray.”

  “Maeve, please.” In her element now, Maeve smiled and held out a hand, which Cassie shook easily. “Carri’s mother. Family friend of Josh’s. He’s practically a surrogate son.”

  “Mom,” Cassi interrupted, hoping to end the inevitable word vomit. “I’m just going to sit with Cassie in the living room for a little bit, okay?”

  “Of course it’s okay.” Looking totally unruffled, Maeve nodded. “Let me know if you want refreshments. Cassandra? Drink? Chips and salsa? Mints?”

  At this rate, her mother would start offering up the fine china. “We’re good, Mom. I think Dad wanted a glass of juice, though.” That had her mother taking a step back. “I’ll be back to help in a minute,” Carri added. “Thanks.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Cassie said slowly as they walked into the living room. “I’m on a mission.”

  “From God?” Carri asked, then shook her head when Cassie lifted her brows in question. “Sorry. Blues Brothers quote. Couldn’t help myself. What can I do for you?” They sat on the couch.

  “I’m here to abduct you. But since my kidnapping skills are a little rusty, I’m just going to appeal to your basic goodness and ask you to come with me instead.” Cassie grinned. “Josh wants you at the game, and he thought you would come if you had some in-person social pressure. So that’s me. The heavy social pressure. Look at me doing all the lifting.” Cassie flexed her biceps in a mock pro-wrestler pose.

  “He sent you to do his dirty work?” Carri let that sink in and tried to tamp down the feeling of joy that Josh had gone through so much trouble to get her to the stadium.

  “He sent me to do something that mattered. He’s a good teammate. Trey really likes him. So, here I am.” Cassie laughed. “And you, Cinderella, need to get to the ball.”

  “There’s three hours!” Carri checked her watch. “Okay, two and a half.”

  “And by the time we battle traffic, and get to our spot in the skybox,” Cassie reasoned, standing with her arm still around Carri’s, “it’ll be in just enough time to get a snack and drink and sit in our seats. Plus, you have to change.”

  Carri looked down at her simple gray T-shirt, jeans, and boots, and back up again. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

  “Nothing . . . until you go to a game. I’ve got some Bobcats gear you can borrow. Come on.”

  “I shouldn’t.” She resisted the pull. “I should stay here with my mom and dad. They’ve got someone coming over and—”

  “You go!” Maeve called from the family room, clearly having eavesdropped, and not at all ashamed of it. “We’ll be fine! Just fine. You go on and have fun! Come back whenever! No curfew.”

  That . . . was embarrassing. Carri felt the tips of her ears burn, but Cassie just burst out laughing. “That’s awesome,” Cassie gasped out. “Hilarious. Okay, let’s roll.”

  ***

  Josh stood at the mouth of the tunnel, his legs shaking with pregame jitters. Not bad, just dancing nerve endings. It kept him on his toes. But he saw the way his teammates watched him warily, as if checking for signs he’d crack under pressure before they even left the relative safety of the tunnel.

  Not today, boys. Trust me.

  Trey stood beside him, wearing a Bobcats windbreaker and jeans. He wouldn’t be running out with them, but would step aside and walk with the support staff to the bench. “She’s here.”

  Josh blinked, then looked at him through his helmet opening. “How do you know that?”

  “I have eyes everywhere.” Trey grinned. “And also because I’ve been watching the Jumbotron and they flashed a picture of Cassie up in the skybox. She’s got Carri with her.”

  Everything in him tightened all at once, and then the tension flowed out like water. “Hey, great,” he said, his voice hoarse. “That’s . . . great. Really great.”

  Great. Jesus, Leeman.

  “Great,” Trey repeated back, grinning like a fool. “It’s so nice to see friends get stupid with love.”

  Josh’s knee-jerk reaction—to deny loving Carri, honed from years of conversations with the moms—caught in his throat. “Whatever,” he said, scoffing.

  “Yeah, whatever.” Trey’s grin never wavered. “Go give ’em hell, Leeman.”

  With Carri in the stands, there wasn’t another option.

  Then the announcement came, and the team thundered out in a herd. It was totally improbable, but Josh imagined he could hear Carri screaming for him. Even more improbable would be that she’d be screaming for him in the first place.

  As the team gathered around their home-field sidelines, Coach Barnes started to pull him back to the quarterback bench. A little removed from the rest of the team, it was a quieter spot to go over plays and gather last-minute instructions. But Josh shook off the coach’s urging and held up a hand. “Everyone! Come in close, ’cause I can only say this once.”

  He felt his teammates’ eyes on him and the bodies pressed close . . . or as close as men their size could with pads and helmets.

  “Guys, this is game one. We know this team. We’ve dominated this team before, but they’ve beaten us, too. We can’t go in there cocky. Confident, not conceited. We’re good, but so are they. We can’t go in thinking we’ve got this just because we’re three and oh for preseason and they’re one and two.”

  He paused, taking a breath, measuring the audience.

  They were listening.

  “I need you, guys. I need you when I step out there. I’m not Owens, but today isn’t about what we can’t have. Today, you need me. And I’m going to need every one of you to help me out there.”

  Almost as if the admission of needing help lessened the tension in the team, a few players nodded, jumped on their toes.

  “Let�
�s wrap this up before our resident tree hugger starts singing campfire songs,” Matt Peterson suggested, nudging Josiah Walker who stood beside him.

  Josiah merely shrugged, as if it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

  “Well, then.” Josh searched for a way to end the little pep talk without sounding like a wet blanket, then just went with, “Let’s kick some ass!”

  His teammates let out grunts and yells of approval, jumping up and down in a circle until Josh had no clue which way was up or down. It was a mosh pit with pads. Then a hand grabbed his wrist and pulled so that he popped out of the circle and came face to face with Coach Barnes.

  Aw, shit. Here it comes.

  The quarterback coach just stared at him for a moment, then nodded. “Let’s get to work.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The idea of watching Josh play from her parents’ TV suddenly paled in comparison to watching the game live from the comfort of a skybox. Not that she’d often be invited into the skybox, Carri reminded herself. This was a one-time favor.

  And she was going back to Utah soon.

  Why was it getting harder to remind herself of that?

  “Pretty cool, right?” A young lady, maybe sixteen or so, with dark hair and a friendly smile sat beside her. There was a chili dog and a scoop of fruit on her plate, and a soda in the cup holder beside her. “I think I was jaded about the skybox thing for a while, like when I was ten or so. But it’s growing on me again.”

  “Sit a few games in the real stands and you appreciate the box more,” Cassie said wryly, sitting on the other side of Carri. “Carri, this is my youngest sister, Mellie.”

  Mellie held out a hand. “Nice to meet you. Who do you belong to?”

  “Myself,” Carri answered, at the same time Cassie said, “Herself, Mellie.”

  “Sorry.” With a sheepish grin, Mellie took a bite of pineapple. “I didn’t mean that in a chauvinistic sort of way. Just, you know, who are you here to watch?”

  “Oh. Uh, well, the whole team, right?”

  Mellie gave her a sidelong glance. “I’m sixteen, not six.”