Page 43 of Gossip Game

“And you just made my day.” His father gave Noah a side hug, complete with two hard pats on the back. “Hell of a game last night. On both sides of the ball. I’m proud of you, son. Always have been.”

“Thanks. It was a team effort.”

His dad made a sound at the back of his throat. “Yes, it was. But you are the leader of one half of that team when it’s on the field. It’s okay to take a little credit for yourself occasionally.”

“From the looks of it, I don’t have a choice today.”

“Okay, yeah.” His dad put his hands up. “That’s on me. The boosters wanted to do it last year as a way to draw some attention—and outside funding—to the school’s athletic programs. I knew you were busy trying to find your place in the league and you’d hate any sort of additional recognition, so I stalled them. Once you were named player of the week at the start of this season, though, there was no holding them back.”

“You might have mentioned it to me.”

“Have you met your grandmother? She was the one leading the charge with the boosters. She insisted you wouldn’t show up if we told you.” He eyed Noah. “Given your reaction, I agree with her.”

Noah dropped into one of the two chairs in front of his father’s desk. “The media have been a bitch. You know that. I’d prefer to stay away from the glare of the spotlight when I can.”

His father stared down at him for a long moment before walking over to close his office door. He sat down in the chair opposite Noah.

“It was a small-town story until you brought your—” He made air quotes. “—Friend, the princess, with you.”

Noah let out a groan as he tilted his head back. “Not you, too, Dad. You do know she’s not a princess, right?”

“I realize that. But what I’m trying to determine is how good of a friend is she?”

Let me know when you figure it out, Noah wanted to say.

He met his father’s questioning gaze. The man’s brown eyes, a mirror image of his own, always compelled Noah to tell the truth. Their build was so similar that both of his nieces had mistaken Noah for their Gramps on more than one occasion. The only striking difference was their hair. His dad was prematurely gray. The stress of Alex’s cancer battle had seen to that.

“I don’t know,” Noah admitted before he could rein in the words. “I mean, yeah, we’re friends.”

They were, weren’t they?

“That’s not the impression I get when I see photos of you two.”

Do you always kiss your friends like you’re the last two people on Earth?

Noah sat forward in the chair, draping his clasped hands between his knees. “Honestly, dad, I don’t know what we are.” He hung his head.

“What do you want to be?”

Everything. “It doesn’t matter. She leads a very different life than I do.”

“Does she? Maybe she grew up differently?—”

Noah hiked up his eyebrows.

“Okay, very differently. But at the end of the day, when it’s just the two of you, are you actually that different?”

“I do know that she’s not the person the media makes her out to be. Not anymore, anyway. And she was a kid back then. Trying to find herself.”

“There you go.” His father tapped him on the knee.

“But is that enough, Dad?”

His father shrugged. “Hard to say. Life, love, marriage, they don’t come with a playbook. Where would the fun be in that?”

“Failure isn’t fun.”

“No, but you’ve never shied away from going for something when the results weren’t guaranteed.”

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