Completing the Pass Page 6

  “Trey Owens, idiot. Who the hell did you think it was?”

  “Honestly? No clue.” But now that he’d said it, the voice sounded more familiar, and it clicked. “Okay, now that that’s out of the way, what are you apologizing for again?” He toed off his shoes and left them by the door, a habit he’d taken from his mother’s home and been unable to give up when he moved into his own place.

  “For putting you in the position you’re about to be in.”

  “And what position is that?” He headed straight for the kitchen and his water bottle he’d left in the fridge. Taking a long gulp, he analyzed the silence. “Not gonna say?”

  “Me getting hurt, putting you in the firing range.”

  “It’s my job to step up when you’re out of the game,” Josh reminded him.

  “Yeah, it is. But usually that’s because we’re up, like, a bazillion points or we don’t have a shot in hell of winning.” Trey paused. “No offense.”

  “Hey, I pale in comparison.” It wasn’t meant to be snarky . . . it was simple truth. Trey Owens was a franchise player owners dreamed about. Josh had been an outstanding high school QB, and a damn good college quarterback. But in the pros, he was best suited to second string. A spot he was perfectly content with . . . he thought.

  “Yeah, well, the comparison part will come soon enough. I know you’ll be getting a lot more attention during training camp, so again, sorry about that.”

  “Why are you apologizing? Don’t guys like attention?”

  Trey was silent for a moment. “Some guys, sure. Matt Peterson would bask in it. Bathe in attention, if he could.”

  Josh chuckled at that. So very true. Their flashy defensive lineman was all that glittered, and loved being the center of any party.

  “But not everyone relishes the attention. I don’t. A lot of others don’t. I’m guessing, with how easy you’ve been as backup, you won’t really love it, either.”

  “I don’t know,” Josh answered honestly. “But this really isn’t relevant anyway. So I’ll play a little more during the preseason games. People will just know they’re saving you for the real deal. Nobody will look twice at me.”

  Trey blew out a breath. “Man, I hope. But I think they’re riding a little too high on expectations for me to get back. This ankle . . . it’s pretty fucked up, man. That’s just between us, you know? I’m a little worried.”

  Josh’s gut clenched. No, please . . . he wasn’t ready to lead a team for an entire season. He wasn’t That Guy. Trey was the clutch player, the one everybody watched to emulate, to take their cues from. He was a natural-born leader. Josh just threw a football. “Rest up, ice and heat and all that. You need to get back here.”

  “If you have trouble with press, let me know. I’ve been there. I can give you a few pointers.”

  “Positive healing vibes, positive healing energy,” Josh said, feeling a little panicked. He sank down onto the couch, heedless of the fact he was still dripping wet and would regret it later when his cushion was crusty with dried sweat. “Keep it positive, man.”

  “Just prepping you for the worst. And when Simon comes to you to give you the rundown on media training . . .” Trey grunted. “Everything with a grain of salt. Be yourself. That’s my best advice.”

  “Thanks, that’s great, but you’ll be back.” Josh forced his voice to stay firm. “So this is a moot point.”

  “Here’s hoping,” Trey said lightly.

  Josh waited a beat, then realized Trey wasn’t done with the conversation. “So, uh, how’s marriage? Cassie seems pretty great.”

  “She is.” Sounding smug, Trey chuckled. “Marriage . . . it’s not so bad. Anyway, last piece of advice before I get off here. Find someone who’s gonna give you shit.”

  “That . . . makes no sense.”

  “Find someone who, no matter what happens, won’t be impressed with you. Who won’t let you get a big head. Even the most humble of guys can get caught up in the PR trap. Family, friends, whatever. Find that person and let them keep you grounded.”

  Trey hung up before Josh could ask a follow-up question. He set his phone down and used the tail of his T-shirt to wipe his face.

  Family . . . that was his mother. And while she knew nothing about football—except to cheer on her baby boy—she thought he walked on water, more or less. She wasn’t the one to prick his ego. Tony and Derrick . . . God love ’em, but they’d probably get more excited about his added play time than he would.

  Would he get excited? Josh had no clue how he’d handle it. He’d been loved in high school, but that had never felt real. In college, he’d been revered again, and maybe he’d liked that a little too much, but he’d been a young guy, fresh into adulthood. Lacking maturity.

  Now that he was almost twenty-eight, how would he handle the attention? The loss of anonymity? Something inside him clutched at the idea he might like it a little too much.

  Chapter Six

  You leave for training camp in two days, and we’re having dinner to say good-bye. Tonight. So be here.

  That had been his mother’s mandate left on his voice mail while he’d been working out. Knowing better than to argue with her, Josh planned ahead and rearranged his schedule, pushing his Last Meal with Tony and Derrick to the next evening. They understood: When Gail summoned, you followed. End of story.

  But she hadn’t mentioned anyone else. So when he showed up at his mother’s home, wearing the sports jacket she requested, a bouquet of flowers in his hand, he was shocked that Carri had beaten him to the door and opened it from the inside.

  She gave him an assessing once-over while lounging in the doorway, not letting him in. “You clean up.”

  “I’ve been known to shower and shave on occasion.” He took the chance to soak in her appearance. She was barefoot—his mother’s no-shoes rule applied to everyone, even guests—but wore a skirt with bursts of color all over it and a top with a neck that scooped low enough that he knew he could see the shadow of her breasts if she bent over slightly. “You don’t look wrecked.”

  “Flattery and flowers. What will the NFL teach him next?” Carri snatched the bouquet from his hand before he could think to stop her. The cellophane crinkled obnoxiously. “Nice touch, Leeman. Your mom’s setting the table.”

  “I didn’t know you’d be here,” he said, toeing off his shoes and following her into the kitchen. It was empty, but he could hear the television in the family room. “Your parents here, too?”

  “Yup. Mom said Dad needed a walk, so we trekked over. I didn’t invite myself,” she said hastily, as if he was going to accuse her of it. She looked around the kitchen, as if searching for something in the pristine room. There were two pots on the stove, simmering gently, but nothing else was out of place. “Vases . . . here. They were always here, right?” She zeroed in on a bottom cabinet and let out a little sound of triumph before bending over to reach in.

  She’d been as comfortable in his childhood kitchen as he’d been in hers. The benefits—or not—of living two blocks away and having mothers who were inseparable. Still, he struggled to hold on to his annoyance as she reached farther back into the often-unused cabinet. The skirt clung to her hips and ass in a way that made him regret leaving his phone in his car. That would be quite a picture to take and have later, when she was pissing him off.

  “There we go.” Straightening, Carri held up a vase and grinned. “I had to fight the cabinet for it, but I won.”

  Her cheek had a little dust streaked over it, likely from when she pulled the vase out. It, too, was coated in a thin layer of dust. Though Gail Leeman liked her home tidy and treasured mementos from her son’s life, she didn’t often worry about the impractical. Once his father had left, she hadn’t dated. No men to bring her flowers. Josh did on occasion, but more often he sent a fruit basket because she was a fresh-fruit nut.

  It made him sad t
o see how dusty the vase was as Carri took it to the sink to rinse out and dry off with a dish towel. He vowed to bring his mother flowers more regularly.

  “I’ll just go say hi to your folks.” He edged away while the water was running. If she didn’t hear him make his escape, that wasn’t his fault.

  He was already seated beside Herb on the couch watching some SportsCenter when he heard her outraged sputter from the kitchen.

  “Women,” Herb muttered.

  ***

  “You leave tomorrow for camp, is that right, Josh?” Maeve asked, using the serving spoon to scoop some green beans onto her plate.

  “Day after tomorrow, at the crack of dawn. They provide a bus, so it’s not too bad, thank goodness. We don’t have to drive down there ourselves.” He forked some ham onto his own plate, then shot Carri a look to his left. “Ham?”

  She glanced at him, then back at her own plate. “No, thank you.” She hated ham, which he knew very well. As did Gail, who had graciously made a small chicken breast for her. Gail clearly had not passed down her polite genetic material to her son.

  Or more likely, he just did it to annoy her. Everyone else had always seemed to enjoy his company. Nobody understood why she was so annoyed with him, hated him so much in high school.

  He dropped a small piece of ham onto her plate anyway before passing it to her father sitting on her left.

  Oh, she had her reasons.

  “And you’ll be gone a few weeks. That must be so hard, leaving each summer for several weeks. Don’t you get bored?”

  Josh gave her mother a small smile across the table. “No, believe me, they keep us busy. Football’s a lot of the goal, but media junk and fan time keep the schedule full.”

  “You have fans?” Carri asked as sweetly as possible.

  He just elbowed her while he reached for his water glass.

  “I do love watching the team now that you’re here. It was so sad to see you go to . . . Oh, what was that team, the one in the middle of the country?” Maeve scrunched up her nose.

  “Rams, before they tucked tail and ran to LA,” Herb provided, shoveling a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth soon after.

  It astounded Carri that her father could look at her one minute and not have a clue who she was, and then next minute remember the NFL team a family friend’s son had played on for all of fifteen minutes five years ago.

  “The Rams, yes.” Josh nodded. “I’m glad to be back, though. It’s pretty rare, as I’ve found, for someone to be so close to their hometown.”

  Gail simply reached for his hand quietly, and he covered it with his own.

  No, that was one thing she could never say for Josh. He’d never been a bad son.

  And while she’d poked fun at him at the door, she had to admit he looked especially decent tonight. The sports coat was gone, but the white button-down dress shirt fit him well. He’d had his hair cut, and shaved off that lazy scruff he seemed to think looked so good on him. Carri preferred the clean-cut look herself. It was hitting buttons she nearly forgot existed.

  Quick, think of something you hate about him.

  “Carri, sweetheart, you have something . . .” Maeve caught her eye across the table and motioned with her finger across her cheek. “Something gray. Dust?”

  Carri swiped at her cheek and came away with, indeed, dust. “Wow, that’s been there the whole time?”

  Josh snickered beside her.

  There, that would suffice. She hated that he took pleasure in making her look like an idiot. He’d probably seen the dust in the kitchen and purposefully hadn’t told her.

  “So, Carri, your mother has been telling me all these years about the wonderful homes you work on.” Gail smiled at her with genuine affection. “Can you tell us about that?”

  She had? Carri sat for a moment in shock. Her mother had always made Carri’s career sound like an idiotic dream anytime they’d talked about it. Eventually, Carri had moved on to answering only the most basic of questions when they’d spoken. “Uh, well, we just finished up a rehab this week. Or it should be finished up.” When she had five minutes, she really needed to talk to Jess without interruption. “So that will go on the market soon. That makes my seventh house as a rental. I’ve purchased a few others, but I flipped them, so they’re gone now.”

  “This is so . . . so HGTV.” Gail leaned forward, appearing excited. “Tell me more. How do you find the houses? Do you do any of the work yourself? Oh, do you use power tools?”

  “Yeah, right,” Josh scoffed beside her. “Let’s all just picture Carrington carrying around a buzz saw for a second.”

  Ignoring him, she turned more in her chair to fully see Gail. “Yes, actually, I do some of the work myself. Not the heavy lifting or work that requires a license. No plumbing, electrical, that sort of thing. That’s all left to the professionals. But I’ve laid some carpet, helped hang drywall when we were behind schedule, and I usually try to do as much of the painting myself as I can.” She grinned. “I’m pretty good at cutting in with an angled brush.”

  Josh blinked and watched her, as if he wasn’t sure if she were real or a mirage. “Something in your eye, Joshua?”

  “No.” He turned away from her, focusing on his ham.

  She counted to three, then used her fork to flip the piece of ham he’d dropped on her plate. It landed in the middle of his mashed potatoes, which splashed tiny dots of gravy onto his white shirt.

  He growled low, in his throat, but the parents didn’t notice.

  Carri simply grinned. “Great potatoes, Gail.”

  ***

  “Carri, your father and I are going to start heading back.”

  Carri stood from the table and grabbed her father’s plate. Josh stood as well, coming around quickly to help Herb pull his chair back.

  “I can do it myself,” he snapped, grabbing the plate from Carri the same time he tried to shove back. Josh had to lunge to catch him before he fell, his balance thrown off by too much movement at once.

  Maeve gasped. Gail stood quickly, and Carri grabbed the plate from her father’s hands before he dropped it. All three watched with mixed looks of horror and worry, and maybe a little secondhand embarrassment.

  “Snagged the chair on the carpet,” Josh said without hesitation, doing his best to soothe the older man’s pride. “Happens to me all the time.”

  “Damn rug,” Herb muttered. “Stupid fucking thing.”

  “Herb!” Maeve scolded sharply.

  “It’s okay,” Gail started.

  “Dad?” Carri asked quietly.

  “Will everyone just leave me the fuck alone?” Herb yelled, shuffling toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms. After he got there, he let out a muffled curse and shuffled back. “How the hell do you get out of this stupid house anyway?”

  Maeve looked at Gail, who mouthed it was okay. “I’m so sorry. Carri, please stay to help them clean up. I need to . . . I just need to,” she finished and hustled out the door toward Herb. None of the three remaining moved a muscle until they heard the front door close with a bang.

  “Are you all right, Carri?” his mother asked.

  Josh risked a look at her, taking in her red face, her glassy eyes that were staring at her father’s half-full plate of food, at the way her shoulders slumped a little.

  “Yeah, no, I’m good.” She gave his mother a brilliant smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sorry about that. He’s . . . He gets irritable when he gets tired.”

  “Of course he does,” Gail soothed, coming over to wrap an arm around Carri. “Let’s clear the table. Then you can go to the family room with Josh for a bit.”

  “I should get home and help them,” she said, following Gail into the kitchen with the plate in her hands.

  “Nonsense. Your mother has it handled. You give them time to get Herb to bed,
then head on home. Just a few minutes of quiet will do your father a world of good.”

  Josh started collecting glasses. After dropping off the plates at the sink, Carri wandered back in and picked up the silverware, their movements blending seamlessly into a routine they’d been used to since they were young children. After depositing the glasses and silverware in the sink and beside it—nobody washed dishes but Gail, as she had her specific way about it—she followed him into the family room. SportsCenter was still on the television, but muted.

  He picked up the remote and held it out. “Your pick.”

  She watched him sit, then stared at the couch for a moment. Deciding whether he would bite? Not tonight. Tension was written all over her face. She was close to losing it, and though he loved messing with her, even he had his limits. “Just sit, Carri.”

  She did, her skirt fluffing around her like a pillow. She clicked the channel button up a few times, then back down, then up again.

  “You’re just seeing the same stuff over and over again. You know that, right?”

  She huffed, then let the remote fall to her leg and her head rest on the back of the couch. Eyes closed, she looked . . . defeated.

  “Carri, talk to me.” His mother started the water in the kitchen sink, ensuring they wouldn’t be overheard. He reached over and covered her hand on top of her leg. “C’mon. I promise tonight I won’t give you shit about it.”

  She just shook her head, dislodging a few pins that had kept her hair from her eyes.

  He tugged a little, flexing his hand over her thigh. Then, shocking him, she scooted over and curled up beside him. Her head rested on his shoulder and her knees curled up on top of his thigh. She said nothing, and from what he could tell, she wasn’t crying. But for the moment, she needed comfort.

  She must have been in a bad place if she considered him comforting.

  Draping an arm around her shoulders, he rubbed her upper arm a little and sat in silence. At one point, with the water still running, his mother poked her head in. Before she could speak, she froze, saw them together, and nodded before ducking back into the kitchen. If Carri knew Gail had seen them, she didn’t acknowledge it.