Page 90 of Breakaway

When he sees me, his eyes light up. They’re like mine—like Dad’s—that deep blue. Callahan blue, my mother used to tease. She’s always been nicer when she talks about Uncle Blake, even though she’s not the one related to him.

“Know anywhere good around here to grab a bite?” he asks.

“Pizza okay?”

“Come on, kid. I can do better for your twenty-first birthday.”

“There’s a good burger place not too far away.” I hitch my bag onto my shoulder. “Did you drive here?”

He scrubs his hand through his hair. “Had a buddy drop me off.”

“No problem,” I say, rummaging around in my pocket for my keys as we cross the parking lot. “Remember that truck I bought after saving all summer? Last time you were in town? I’ve been working on it this whole time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It runs great now.” I run my hand over the glossy black hood before hopping inside. “Sweet, right?”

Uncle Blake settles into the passenger seat. “I’m sure Rich loves this.”

“It’s been a sore spot,” I say cheerfully. “He wanted to get me a Range Rover like James, but I prefer this.”

“See, you and me, we’re the same,” he says. “There are Richards and Jameses. Blakes and Coopers.”

I glance at him. “That’s one way to put it.”

He gives me a half-smile. “Tell me what’s up with you, kid. I know I haven’t exactly been around. But I’m clean and sober.”

My heart swells in my chest. “I’m glad.”

“Took a while to get back on my feet and make it stick, but I’m here.”

I make a left; I know how to get to this restaurant in my sleep. I’ve lost count of the amount of times Sebastian and I have made late-night burger runs through the drive-through window. The shakes are the perfect consistency. I probably shouldn’t have one, but it’s not like I can try to use my fake ID one more time to order a beer in front of Uncle Blake.

“I’m good,” I say. “Season’s been going well. I’m... I’m team captain.”

“There’s the Cooper I remember.” He smacks his palms together. “I suppose it makes up for missing out on the draft.”

My breath sticks in my throat. “Yeah. Mostly.” I pull into the parking lot. On a random weeknight in February, it’s not too crowded, just a couple of other cars in the lot. “It’s fine, I love my team and I’m really improving.”

“There’s no need to be so modest. You’d have gone first round, and you know like I do.” Uncle Blake leads the way to the door and holds it open for me; the blessedly warm air blasts us in the face. “If you were my son, I’d have pushed you to do it.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to.”

He waves his hand. “Right. Rich.”

I huff out a laugh. “No one calls him that, you know.”

“I’m his brother, it’s allowed.”

We order burgers and fries and a chocolate shake each. I need to take Penny here sometime; I know she’d prefer the strawberry milkshake and I love the little happy dance she does when she’s tasting something good. Maybe when McKee does one of its film screenings on the quad in the spring, we’ll make it dinner and a movie.

Uncle Blake picks out a booth in the corner. The neon of the sign on the wall above washes over his face in shades of pink and purple. When I sit across from him, he leans in, elbows on the sticky tabletop. “Scouts been in touch?”

“Some,” I say. “They know I’m staying for the duration. Dad and James’s agent is going to work on an offer after graduation.”

“Fuck that,” he says, fiddling with his watch. It’s an expensive one, a gold and silver Rolex. My dad has a Rolex too, and judging by his graduation present to James, I’ll have one coming my way after next year. “Teams are going to be lining up around the block. You won’t need an agent. Save your money.”

I shake my head. “No way. Contracts are complicated.”

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