Page 25 of For Crosby

“I scored a couple goals already.”

She shook her head, in that proud sort of way only a mother could. “You’re going pro. I just know it.”

“Maybe.”

“Keep playing like you’ve always played and the scouts won’t be able to resist. Just don’t give them a reason not to want you.” Guilt flitted across her face. “Another reason for them not to want you.”

“Stop blaming yourself. My skills speak for themselves. Who my parents are doesn’t matter to them.”

Her eyes dropped to the handcuffs on her wrists. “Let’s hope.”

“I’m serious.”

She nodded, but I knew she didn’t believe me.

“I sent some money to Rosa,” I said.

Her eyes lifted to mine. “You did?”

I nodded. “I wanted her to be able to get her kid a little something for Christmas.”

“Oh, honey.” She reached across the table and placed her hands down on mine.

My gaze wandered to the guard who quickly looked away, as if he noticed, but wanted to give us a minute.

“I figured sending money now would give her time to find something nice. And use her coupons.” A quiet laugh escaped me. “Remember how she used to spend all her free time cutting coupons?”

My mother smiled sadly, likely remembering our housekeeper. The one who’d been there for me when my parents traveled. The one who carted me to most of my practices when I was a kid and had been there for every big milestone in my life.

I called her from time to time to check that she and her new baby were doing okay. She assured me they were, but there was no way her office job paid anything like my parents had.

“That was very generous of you, but you must be depleting what little money you have left.”

I shrugged. “I’ll be fine. I applied for a job.”

“Oh, yeah?” Her voice drifted as she removed her hands from mine. “Your father and I did you a disservice by not forcing you to make your own money.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. She lifted her linked hands and wiped them away.

“It’s all right. I wasn’t ready for a job then. I am now.”

“Right,” she said, laughing through her tears. “You need money to take out all the girls who are undoubtedly fighting for your attention.”

I laughed. “Obviously.”

She laughed again, and I was so damn happy her tears had subsided. I hadn’t visited to make her sad. Her eyes moved to my tattoos. “You haven’t gotten any more, have you?”

I shook my head.

She lifted her chin at the un-tatted area on the inside of my left bicep. “Glad to see that spot’s still empty.”

I scoffed. “Yeah. I can assure you, it’ll stay that way for a very long time.”

She remained silent. I let the silence between us settle, giving her a chance to say whatever it was she wanted to say. That’s how it usually worked when we spoke. She spent so much time alone, she liked having me there, whether in person or on the phone. I figured the silence was easier with someone else sharing it.

I glanced around the room at the other people. Some smiled, some cried. It wasn’t a happy place by any means. It reminded you that you were separated from the people you loved. And no matter how terrible their crime, they still loved you.

“I think you should talk to someone.”

My eyes shot back to my mom. “What?”

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