Page 16 of A Whole New Game

I look up at the middle-aged woman with wavy blonde hair that resembles her daughter’s. She’s placing the potatoes in the boiling water, watching me with a curious expression.

“It’s fine.”

She bobs her head. “Where is it located? Not downtown, I hope. Traffic is always horrible in that part of town.”

“No, it’s in Midtown. It’s actually in the same building as Carlee’s apartment”

“What? Really?”

Shit.

Maybe I should have kept that to myself.

The door leading to the garage opens. In walks in Mr. Jones carrying two grocery bags. I immediately move to take them from him. “I’ve got those, Coach J.”

“Corey!” The patriarch of the Jones family grins at me, looking much thinner than the last time I saw him. He had amild heart attack two years ago that served as a wake-up call regarding his lifestyle. He rarely eats meat nowadays, and he no longer enjoys an evening beer most days of the week. Physically, he no longer looks like the imposing, athletic man from my youth, but he’s healthy and alive. That’s what matters.

Mr. Jones lets me take the bags from him, then places both hands on my shoulder and squeezes. “It’s damn good to see you, Corey. It’s been too long.”

“That’s what I said,” his wife chimes in affectionately.

Emotion clogs my throat as the feeling of beingwantedthreatens to overwhelm me. I’m not an emotional guy. I keep what I’m thinking and feeling close to my chest—not wanting anyone to know the depths of my issues and risk them using them against me. It’s why I became so obsessed with baseball after Mr. Jones convinced me to give it a try. The sport gave me an outlet for the pain that would have built up to a debilitating level. I shudder to think what I would’ve done with my life if I hadn’t had baseball to distract from my hellish childhood. Likely, I would’ve become an addict. Just like my dad.

Carlee walks in behind her father, and it takes everything I have to keep my expression neutral. She wears tight blue jeans with a burgundy blouse that flows as she moves. Her long blonde hair is twisted up in a bun, revealing her graceful neck, flanked by gold hoop earrings. She looks elegant and beautiful. It’s impossible to keep my eyes off her.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me Corey moved into your building,” Mrs. Jones greets her daughter with the reprimand.

Carlee stops in her tracks. Her eyes dart to mine. I shrug my shoulders in silent apology, then back away to place the bags on the counter. I busy myself with emptying them while Carlee deals with the fallout from my slipup.

“Did I not mention that?”

“No, you did not,” disapproval laces Mrs. Jones’s tone.

“Odd. I thought I had. My bad.”

I fight off a smile. That didn’t sound convincing at all.

“So you two are working and living together,” Carter observes with an instigating grin. “That’s a recipe for a disaster.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” From the corner of my eye, I see Carlee place her hands on her hips.

“Wait,” their mother interrupts the impending sibling bicker. “What does Carter mean that you’re working together?”

Carter speaks before his sister has the chance, “Carlee has been assigned the task of revamping Corey’s social media accounts to help repair his image. She’s in charge of making sure everyone believes he’s happy to be on the Lonestars and living in Dallas. A monumental task considering it’s Corey we’re talking about.” He chuckles at his own joke.

“I’m not in charge,” Carlee argues. “I’m working with Corey’s PR team. They’re calling the shots.”

“That’s not what Corey told me.”

I feel Carlee’s attention slide my way. I turn over the package of rolls and pretend to read the nutrition information before putting it on the counter.

“I can’t believe this,” Mrs. Jones says. “You’re working directly on Corey’s accounts, and you didn’t tell us. What in the world, Carlee? Why the secrets?”

I’m wondering the same thing.

The Jones family always shares everything. Well, almost everything. I’m sure Carter and Carlee keep certain details of their romantic lives to themselves, but if anything else is going on in their life, they tell their parents.

Does Carlee’s silence about working with me mean something?

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