Page 88 of The Wrong Move

“Right.” I look nervously at Jessica, then back to Paige. “She loves sports and is a lot like Byron.”

“I didn’t stay long. I left Mason and went shopping. He was in his element with all the players around him.”

I let out a long, silent breath. “I prefer shopping to sports, so if I were there, I could have accompanied you.”

Paige slurs her words. “But to answer your question, Jess, I don’t think he is with anyone.”

For the past few years,my Saturday nights have been about wine, pizza, and late-night festivities. Tonight, I’m sitting in the VIP seats at the LA Sharks’ sell-out home game—the first of the regular season.

Byron’s parents are behind me. I’ve had little time to speak to his mother, and yet she has already invited me to their house for Thanksgiving. It’s a kind offer, yet I’d prefer to have Thanksgiving with my parents, then visit the Hendricks later.

Sensing someone is staring, I turn and sneak a glance. Jobe gives me a nod. His eyes are serious, and I can’t help but feel like he is assessing me. I understand he is looking out for his brother, but I am already nervous about being here, so I return my gaze to the front.

I’m sitting on the aisle seat, and Charlotte is next to me, Franklin and Penny on her other side. They got sitters for the game. I overhear Franklin and Penny discussing player matchups while the cheerleaders entertain.

The loud pump-up music ramps up, along with the lights. It’s entertainment at an A-list level. Flashing lights shine erratically over the crowd, and my eyes are pulled to the circular multiscreen scoreboard high over the court. One of the screens shows the players in the tunnel, jumping and bouncing off each other as they mentally prepare themselves for the game. Then the players run out onto the court as screams and cheers echo around the arena.

“Good evening, and welcome to the home of the LA Sharks.” The announcer continues to talk about player histories and the coaches and staff, and the cheers continue, but my gaze is stuck on Byron.

He is in the zone, his own bubble of concentration. I doubt he hears anything as he bounces up and down, runs fast on the spot, crouches low, then springs into a jump. When the announcer stops, he grabs the balls and bounces two at a time while focusing on something in the distance. He jabs and moves while his team gathers around the coach. Once the coach finishes, the team starts to take their positions. Looking up into the crowd, his intense gaze finds mine. He jogs over, up a few stairs, and kisses me, his lips lingering.

“Good luck,” I whisper. There’s a hint of a smile before he turns and bounces down the stairs to regroup with his team.

Charlotte nudges me. “Told you this will be his new routine before every game. Best book your flights now.”

But what if I’m not here?I have an upcoming trip to Italy for Austin Cisterna’s new movie. And then there’s Isabella’s new offer, which I have to consider without declining on instinct.Surely, after all his hard work, a little superstition of my absence won’t affect his performance.

It’s not a concern for tonight—the game is edge-of-your-seat fast, and we come away with a win.

The following morning,after sleeping at Byron’s, I park my new Alfa Romeo in the garage beside Mom’s Mercedes. Her car is now ten years old, yet still in pristine condition. I can’t help worrying about their future, what with Dad retiring early and all their finances dropping significantly. Thankfully, Dad had good insurance, but it’s a matter of time before he’ll need better supervision, especially at night if he gets confused and wanders. With an uncertain future, I understand why Mom wants me to take every opportunity possible to advance my career. More than ever, I need to be financially independent and continue with new contracts to help my parents with their health insurance and my dad’s ongoing needs.

“Morning,” I say to my mother, who is prepping food in the kitchen.

Mom turns around. “How was your night, love?”

“Great. Byron won, and he mentioned getting Dad and you tickets to the next game. He thinks Dad would enjoy it.” Mom doesn’t look excited. “Only if you want to go.”

This time, her eyes crinkle when she smiles. “We would, but the noise might scare your father. It could make him anxious and more confused.”

“Or it could be a great night for him. There is a special glassed room if sitting in the VIP section could be too much. The noise is dulled, but you can see everything, and it’s private, away from the crowd.”

“Byron offered to do that?”

“Yes. He’s thoughtful, Mom.”

She ponders my words. “I’ll talk to your father first.”

“Of course.”

“Are you going to tell Byron about your offer to return to Italy?”

I sense my brow tightening. “Not today. I’ll wait until after the next game.” They travel to Boston, and Byron believes their guard has an edge over him in an away game. It’s not like Byron to admit someone is better than him. He is all about the win.

She turns to the kitchen window to keep a watchful eye on my father puttering in the garden.

Before I take the stairs to change my dress, I stall, thinking about my dad. “Does he garden all year round? Even on the coldest days?” I should know this about him. While he did when he was younger as gardening was like therapy, even when I was at school, I’m concerned for his health. His immunity has weakened.

“I try to keep him indoors, but it’s like caging him from what he loves. So, we often go out and sit and watch the rain with a throw over our knees.”

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